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- Джек Лондон
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"
There
's
several
settlements
before
we
come
to
the
desert
,
"
father
answered
.
"
Fillmore
's
sixty
miles
south
.
Then
comes
Corn
Creek
.
And
Beaver
's
another
fifty
miles
.
Next
is
Parowan
.
Then
it
's
twenty
miles
to
Cedar
City
.
The
farther
we
get
away
from
Salt
Lake
the
more
likely
they
'll
sell
us
provisions
.
"
"
And
if
they
wo
n't
?
"
the
same
woman
persisted
.
"
Then
we
're
quit
of
them
,
"
said
my
father
.
"
Cedar
City
is
the
last
settlement
.
We
'll
have
to
go
on
,
that
's
all
,
and
thank
our
stars
we
are
quit
of
them
.
Two
days
'
journey
beyond
is
good
pasture
,
and
water
.
They
call
it
Mountain
Meadows
.
Nobody
lives
there
,
and
that
's
the
place
we
'll
rest
our
cattle
and
feed
them
up
before
we
tackle
the
desert
.
Maybe
we
can
shoot
some
meat
.
And
if
the
worst
comes
to
the
worst
,
we
'll
keep
going
as
long
as
we
can
,
then
abandon
the
wagons
,
pack
what
we
can
on
our
animals
,
and
make
the
last
stages
on
foot
.
We
can
eat
our
cattle
as
we
go
along
.
It
would
be
better
to
arrive
in
California
without
a
rag
to
our
backs
than
to
leave
our
bones
here
;
and
leave
them
we
will
if
we
start
a
ruction
.
"
With
final
reiterated
warnings
against
violence
of
speech
or
act
,
the
impromptu
meeting
broke
up
.
I
was
slow
in
falling
asleep
that
night
.
My
rage
against
the
Mormon
had
left
my
brain
in
such
a
tingle
that
I
was
still
awake
when
my
father
crawled
into
the
wagon
after
a
last
round
of
the
night-watch
.
They
thought
I
slept
,
but
I
heard
mother
ask
him
if
he
thought
that
the
Mormons
would
let
us
depart
peacefully
from
their
land
.
His
face
was
turned
aside
from
her
as
he
busied
himself
with
pulling
off
a
boot
,
while
he
answered
her
with
hearty
confidence
that
he
was
sure
the
Mormons
would
let
us
go
if
none
of
our
own
company
started
trouble
.
But
I
saw
his
face
at
that
moment
in
the
light
of
a
small
tallow
dip
,
and
in
it
was
none
of
the
confidence
that
was
in
his
voice
.
So
it
was
that
I
fell
asleep
,
oppressed
by
the
dire
fate
that
seemed
to
overhang
us
,
and
pondering
upon
Brigham
Young
who
bulked
in
my
child
imagination
as
a
fearful
,
malignant
being
,
a
very
devil
with
horns
and
tail
and
all
.
*
*
*
*
*
And
I
awoke
to
the
old
pain
of
the
jacket
in
solitary
.
About
me
were
the
customary
four
:
Warden
Atherton
,
Captain
Jamie
,
Doctor
Jackson
,
and
Al
Hutchins
.
I
cracked
my
face
with
my
willed
smile
,
and
struggled
not
to
lose
control
under
the
exquisite
torment
of
returning
circulation
.
I
drank
the
water
they
held
to
me
,
waved
aside
the
proffered
bread
,
and
refused
to
speak
.
I
closed
my
eyes
and
strove
to
win
back
to
the
chain-locked
wagon-circle
at
Nephi
.
But
so
long
as
my
visitors
stood
about
me
and
talked
I
could
not
escape
.
One
snatch
of
conversation
I
could
not
tear
myself
away
from
hearing
.
