I remember that all of us, men, women, and even the children, paused to watch them depart; and it seemed their errand was of grave import.
While they were away other men, strangers, inhabitants of desert Nephi, came into camp and stalked about.

They were white men, like us, but they were hard-faced, stern-faced, sombre, and they seemed angry with all our company.

Bad feeling was in the air, and they said things calculated to rouse the tempers of our men.

But the warning went out from the women, and was passed on everywhere to our men and youths, that there must be no words.
One of the strangers came to our fire, where my mother was alone, cooking.

I had just come up with an armful of sage-brush, and I stopped to listen and to stare at the intruder, whom I hated, because it was in the air to hate, because I knew that every last person in our company hated these strangers who were white-skinned like us and because of whom we had been compelled to make our camp in a circle.
This stranger at our fire had blue eyes, hard and cold and piercing.