But this was only for a time.

Then they fell back to a walk, a quick, eager, shambling, sore-footed walk; and they no longer were lured aside by the dry bunch-grass.
"What is it ?" my mother asked from within the wagon.
"Water," was my father's reply.

"It must be Nephi." And my mother: "Thank God! And perhaps they will sell us food." And into Nephi, through blood-red dust, with grind and grate and jolt and jar, our great wagons rolled.

A dozen scattered dwellings or shanties composed the place.

The landscape was much the same as that through which we had passed.