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 When they got close enough we both fired and both killed his wolf and the other ran off. We went and dragged them up into camp, took out their livers, and roasted and ate them.

By this time day had begun to break and we started for the wagon.  We made it about one o'clock, and my oxen looked---well,------ I can't hardly describe them. 

Well---they looked like a shit-poke after swallowing a live eel a dozen times and could not make him stick. Not knowing where we would find the next water, after eating a hunk of bread and bacon, we hitched up and started. 

We had a fine looking team to start with, one yoke looked half roasted and the other was so gaunt they would hardly make a shadow.  But we went on and happened to strike water a little before sundown and then we camped for the night.

By this time Asa was all right, and I teased him a little about the fire getting out the night before. I told him I knew that when I left for water he spread the coals out to roast his hunk of buffalo meat that he had put in his pocket to eat later, and the fire had broke out that way.  But he said the hunk got to stinking so bad he threw it away.  That night I enjoyed a good nights sleep.

Next day we made it to the mill and found the mill crowded with about twenty loads of corn. I told Asa that was bully for us, there would be plenty of tall corn to sell us a half dozen loads if we wanted that much.

We found the Colorado River about a mile wide at that place and we were now out of provision.  We could get plenty of meal at the mill, but nothing else. By inquiring  I learned there was a store on the opposite side of the river where we could get a little of anything we wanted, flour, molasses, tobacco and whiskey. There was a tight small skiff but no one would take the risk in crossing. I told them I could go and they said that if I would go they would pay for all the provisions I needed and give me five dollars extra if I would fetch what they wanted. We agreed and I took jugs, sacks for sugar and coffee, and canteens and gourds for whiskey.

I jumped in the skiff but the drift was running without intermission at a fearful rate.  That was what scared them all off, but I pulled up the river at my leisure until I was about a half mile and saw a little gap in the drift and scooted through.  I went to the store, got all that I was sent for, and made it back with about two gallons of "fighting" whiskey.

At any rate they had not had it more than an hour until there was five or six fights.

Jim Nichols