A father would pull his cart all day, perhaps with his children in it, and die at night when camp was reached.

Each day lessened their number.
But they died full of faith, murmuring little, and having for their chief regret, apparently, that they must be left on the plains or mountains, instead of resting in the consecrated ground of Zion--this, and that they must die without looking upon the face of their prophet, seer, and revelator.
Their leader cheered them as best he could.

He was at first puzzled at the severity of their hardships in the face of past prophecies.

But light at last came to him.

He stopped one day to comfort a wan, weak man who had halted in dejection by the road.
"You have had trouble ?" he asked him, and the man had answered, wearily: "No, not what you could call trouble.