At one point on our journey, we passed some strange springs.  There were a great many of them and they were of many colors.   Some of them seemed charged with nauseous vapors, and we were told that birds flying above them and animals that wandered too close, were sometimes overcome by the powerful gases with which the waters were charged, so we watched them from a distance.  Mother would not allow me to go close enough to even see the lovely colors that the older ones talked about.

     I missed a lot of things in spite of myself.  I did not really intend to miss anything if I could help it.  I think the reason that I remembered it all so well was because I never talked to anyone, I was just eyes and ears.  But it seems to me as I look back to it, that this small pilgrim's westward progress was richly sprinkled with "don't."

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     Sometimes we passed springs where the waters were strong with minerals.  Even the thirsty cattle would snort and dash away, when they smelled of them.  Once we stopped at a spring that looked clear and fresh.  The cattle were very thirsty and crowded up to drink.  The lead ones backed into the ones that followed and bawled and snorted and tossed their heads.  I got out my tin cup and ran as fast as I could toward the little stream that trickled from the spring.  I did not snort or toss my head, as the cattle had done, but I bawled and I bawled quite as lustily as they had.  My bare feet were burned to a blister.  The water was boiling hot.

     Water was very scarce.  Our kegs held enough for our family use, but the cattle really suffered.  The water that we had for ourselves, was often warm and unsatisfying.  By this time the novelty of adventure was well nigh worn away.  Even at five and half years old, I found it easier to lie in the wagon and try to sleep.  The grown people did not talk so much and laughter did not come quite so easily.