I slept by the fire that night, without a blanket, as I had done on many nights before and after they hitched up and drove on in the morning I searched the camp carefully, finding some bacon rinds they had thrown away.

As I chewed these and could taste the rich grease they contained, I thought they were the sweetest morsels I ever tasted.
Here on the north side of the canon were some rolling hills and some small weak springs, the water of which when gathered together made a small stream which ran a few yards down the canon before it lost itself in the rocks and sand.

On the side there stood what seemed to be one half of a butte, with the perpendicular face toward the canon.

Away on the summit of the butte I saw an Indian, so far away he looked no taller than my finger, and when he went out of sight I knew pretty well he was the very fellow who grew the squashes.

I thought it might be he, at any rate.
I now turned back to meet the teams and found them seven or eight miles up the canon, and although it was a down grade the oxen were barely able to walk slowly with their loads which were light, as wagons were almost empty except the women and children.