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Bonner, Geraldine, 1870-1930

"The Emigrant Trail"

"I was only tired."
She lifted one of the limp hands and pressed it to her cheek.
"I've been so worried about you," she purred. "I couldn't put my mind
on anything else. I haven't known what I was saying, I've been so
worried."


CHAPTER VI
South Pass, that had been pictured in their thoughts as a cleft between
snow-crusted summits, was a wide, gentle incline with low hills sweeping
up on either side. From here the waters ran westward, following the sun.
Pacific Spring seeped into the ground in an oasis of green whence
whispering threads felt their way into the tawny silence and subdued by
its weight lost heart and sank into the unrecording earth.
Here they found the New York Company and a Mormon train filling up their
water casks and growing neighborly in talk of Sublette's cut off and the
route by the Big and Little Sandy. A man was a man even if he was a
Mormon, and in a country so intent on its own destiny, so rapt in the
calm of contemplation, he took his place as a human unit on whom his
creed hung like an unnoticed tag.
They filled their casks, visited in the two camps, and then moved on.


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