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Show 158 FORTY YEARS AMONG THE INDIANS. we crossed the bridge spanning the Arkansas river, the roads forked. We enquired of a lad which road to take naming our direction. He said either, but that the left hand road went out five miles to Jim Baker's ranch. Here was a chance. Jim Baker was an old friend that I had often met on the plains. I had taken care of his brother, when snow- blind, while we were at Devil's Gate, so we concluded to go there and see if Baker would be like Martin. On arriving we were welcomed in the true, old-mountaineer style. Although grass was abundant, he turned our mules into his oat field. We told him about Martin, and he said, " Well now, I will go into town every Saturday, get drunk, and abuse Martin for this until I run him out of the country. I will never let up on him. Why he aint fit to live." Baker had his squaw fix us up some food ; all we would take. Next morning we started on feeling much better than when leaving Denver. We met with others along the road who supplied our wants. While at Bitter creek one of our mules got poisoned with bad water. We got him as far as Jack Robinson's camp, leaving him and getting another. On reaching Bridger, we overtook a government outfit coming into Camp Floyd Captain Clery and escort. The Captain was on his way to relieve the then acting Quartermaster. He offered to supply us if we would travel with him as they did not know the road. We traveled with him two days receiving the best of treat-ment from officers and men. Our route led down Provo Canyon. I had a number of acquaintances in this valley; amongo the number Melvin Ross who lived at the head of the valley. He was a man of considerable means. I told Moore we would go and camp with him, telling |