"[I] and a boy about [my] own age [nine years old] had become interested in some ripening yellow currants along one of the banks of a stream, and lingered until the train had passed over a distant hill. Before [we] realized it [we] were breaking camp regulations. . . . The caps at last filled, [we] started to catch the train. . . . Coming to the summit of a swale in which the wagon road passed. To [our] horror [we] saw three Indians on horseback. . . . Many atime Captain Chipman had warned [us] of the possibility [of being captured]. . . . It was therefore with magnificent terror that [we] kept on slowly towards these Indians whose faces remained immobile and solemn with no indication of friendliness given out at all. [I] approached [my] savage knowing not what to do, but as [I] reached about the head of the horse [I] gave one wild yell, the Scotch cap full of currants was dropped and [I] made a wild dash to get by, and did, whereupon there was a peal of laughter from the three Indians. . . .
"The running continued until each [of us] had found his proper place beside the wagon to which he was assigned. The [f]right was thought of for several days at least by strict adherence to camp rules about staying with your wagon" (Brigham Henry Roberts, "The Life Story of Brigham H. Roberts" [typescript, n.d.], B.H. Roberts papers, special collections, Marriott Library, University of Utah, 23–24).