At night he flung himself down among the rocks, and snatched a few hours of sleep; but before daybreak he was always well on his way.

On the sixth day, he reached the Eagle Canon, from which they had commenced their ill-fated flight.

Thence he could look down upon the home of the saints.

Worn and exhausted, he leaned upon his rifle and shook his gaunt hand fiercely at the silent widespread city beneath him.

As he looked at it, he observed that there were flags in some of the principal streets, and other signs of festivity.