Chapter 9 Eight travelers in the desert

In the middle of the North American continent there is a great arid and inhospitable desert; for many years it has been an obstacle to the development of culture.From the Sierra Nevada to the Yellowstone River in the north to the south, it is a completely desolate and quiet area.But in this dreary region, nature does not look very different.There are snow-covered high mountains, gloomy and dark valleys, and swift rivers running between rocky valleys; there are also boundless wastelands, covered with snow in winter, and showing a gray alkaline land in summer. .Even so, the general characteristics are barren, barren, and infinitely desolate.

In this hopeless land, there is no human population.Only you and the occasional group walk here and go to other hunting areas; even the bravest and strongest people are eager to walk through this terrible wilderness as soon as possible and join the prairie again.Only the coyote scuttled through the undergrowth, the giant eagle soared slowly through the air, and the clumsy grizzly bear haunted the dreary canyon in search of food.They are the only residents in the wilderness. There is no place in the world more bleak than the northern foothills.Looking around as far as the eye can see, on the wasteland, there are patches of saline land separated by dwarf oak forests.At the end of the horizon, the mountains are undulating, covered with snow, shining with silver light.There is neither life nor anything related to life in this land.There were no birds in the iron-blue sky, and there was no movement on the gray earth.All in all, dead silence.Listen carefully, there is no sound in this vast and barren land, just a complete, depressing and hopeless silence.

It is not true that there is nothing of life in this vast wilderness.Looking down from the Sierra Blanca, a path can be seen winding its way through the desert and disappearing into the distant horizon.This path was formed by rolling over many vehicles and trampling by countless adventurers.A heap here, a heap there, here and there scattered white things gleaming in the sun, glaring on the drab alkaline ground.When I approached and looked carefully, it turned out to be piles of white bones: the big and thick ones were beef bones; the smaller and thinner ones were human bones.On the fifteen hundred miles of the terrible caravan road, people followed the bones of the dead on the side of the road.

On May 4, 1847, a lonely traveler looked down on this miserable scene from a hill.Judging from his appearance, he is simply a ghost in this desperate situation.It was difficult even for an observant person to guess whether he was forty or nearly sixty.His face was gaunt and thin, with parchment-like brown skin tightly wrapped around a handful of protruding bones.His long brown beard and hair were grizzled, and his deep-set eyes cast a dull stare.The hand that held the rifle had little more muscle than a skeleton.When he stood, he had to use the gun to support his body.However, from his tall stature and burly physique, it can be seen that he was a very strong person at the beginning.But his thin face and the baggy clothes that covered his bony limbs made him look old.The man was dying from hunger and thirst.

He had endured the pain of trekking along the valley, and now he had struggled to come to this modest plateau, in the faint hope that he might find some source of water.Now, what unfolded in front of him was only the boundless alkaline land and the continuous barren hills far into the sky, and there was not a single tree in sight, because where there are trees, there may be water vapor.In this vast land, there is no hope at all.When he looked north, west, and east with wild, bewildered eyes, he knew that the days of wandering were at an end, and that he was about to die on this bleak cliff. "What's the difference between dying here and dying twenty years later on a bed covered with velvet quilts?" He muttered, sitting down in the shadow of a protruding boulder.

Before he sat down, he put his useless rifle on the ground, and then put down the great bundle wrapped in a large gray shawl which was slung over his right shoulder.It seemed he was too exhausted to hold it anymore.When he lowered the load, it hit the ground hard.And so out of the gray wrapping came a cry, and out came a frightened face with bright brown eyes, and two fat little fists with dimples and freckles. "You hurt me from falling." The child said childishly in a complaining tone. "Really?" The man replied regretfully, "I didn't do it on purpose." As he said that, he opened the gray bag and hugged a beautiful little girl from inside.The little girl was about five years old, wearing a pair of delicate shoes, a pretty pink top, and a sackcloth bib.It can be seen from these dresses that her mother loves her meticulously.The child was pale, too, but her strong arms and calves showed that she had not suffered as much as her companions.

"How's it going now?" he asked anxiously, as she was still ruffling the tousled blond hair at the back of her head. "Just kiss it here," she said earnestly, and showed him where the heads touched. "Mother always does that. Where's Mother?" "Mother's gone. I think you'll see her soon." The little girl said: "What, have you gone? It's strange that she hasn't said goodbye to me yet. She used to say it every time she went to her aunt's house for tea. But this time she has been away for three days." Yes. Well, your mouth is dry like hell, isn't it? Isn't there anything to eat and drink here?"

"No, there's nothing, my dear. As long as you bear with it for a while, you'll be fine in a while. You put your head on me, ah, you'll feel better just like that. My lips are as dry as skin It's the same, it's a little hard to talk, but I think I'll tell you the truth. What's in your hand?" The little girl showed him two pieces of mica flakes, and said happily, "How beautiful! How nice! I'll give it to my little brother Bob when I get home." The grown-up said confidently, "You'll see something prettier than this before long. Wait a minute. I was just about to tell you. Do you remember when we left that river?"

"Oh, remember." "Well, we figured we'd run into another river before long. Understand? But something's amiss. Compass, or map, or something, and it's never been found. The river is gone. The water is gone, and there is only a little left, for children like you to drink. Then———” "You can't even wash your face," his little friend said gravely, interrupting him.At the same time, she looked up at his dirty face. "Not only could I not wash my face, but I didn't even have anything to drink. Then Mr. Bender went first, followed by Pete the Indian, then Mrs. MacGregor, Johnny Horns, and then, my dear, it was you." mother."

"So, mother is dead too," the little girl cried, covering her face with her bib and crying bitterly. "By the way, they're all gone, just you and me. Then I thought maybe there might be water here. So I put you on my shoulders, and the two of us walked forward step by step. It seems that the situation is still not the same Better. We now have little hope of surviving!" The child stopped crying and asked, looking up his tear-stained face, "Are you saying we're going to die too?" "I think that's about it." The little girl smiled happily and said, "Why didn't you say that sooner? You gave me a big jump. You see, don't you, as long as we die too, we can be with our mother again."

"Yeah, sure, baby." "You'll see her too. I'll tell mamma you've been so kind to me. I'm sure she'll meet us at heaven's gate with a jug of water and lots of buckwheat cakes, steaming , browned and browned on both sides, the way Bob and I love it. But how long are we going to die?" "I don't know—it won't be long," said His Excellency now, gazing at the northern horizon.It turned out that under the blue sky, three black dots appeared, and the black dots became bigger and bigger, coming very fast.In an instant, three large brown birds were visible, circling over the heads of the two wandering men, and then alighting on a large rock above them.These are three giant eagles, or vultures, as they are called in the American West; their presence is a harbinger of death. "Rooster and hen," cried the little girl joyfully, pointing to the three monsters, clapping her little hands, trying to startle them and make them fly. "Hey, did God make this place too?" "Of course he made it," replied her companion.Her sudden question surprised him. The little girl went on to say, "He built Illinois over there, and he built Missouri. I think someone else built this place. It's not very good, even the water and trees are forgotten." The adult asked uncertainly: "Do you want to pray?" The little girl replied, "It's not evening yet." "It's all right, there's no need for a fixed hour. Don't worry, God won't blame us. Just say your prayers now, as we do every night in the wagon when we're through the moor." The little girl asked strangely with her eyes open. "Why don't you pray yourself?" He replied, "I don't remember the prayer. I haven't said it since I was half that gun. But I don't think it's too late to say it. You read the prayer, I'll read it with you next to me." She spread the fur skin on the ground and said, "Then you have to kneel down, and I will kneel down too. You have to raise your hands like this, and you will feel better." No one but the vulture saw this strange sight: on the narrow shawl, kneeling side by side, were two wanderers, an innocent little girl and a rough, strong adventurer.Her fat little round face and his haggard, lean black face, looking up at the cloudless sky, prayed devoutly to the awesome god who was with them face to face; and, these were two voices, One is crisp and weak, the other is low and hoarse, praying together, begging God for mercy and forgiveness.When the prayers were over, they sat again in the shadow of the boulder, and the child fell asleep slowly on the broad bosom of her protector.He watched her sleep for a while, but he couldn't resist the force of nature, because he hadn't rested or closed his eyes for three days and three nights.The eyelids slowly drooped to cover the sleepy eyes, and the head gradually drooped to the chest. The adult's grizzled beard mixed with the child's blond curly hair, and both of them fell into a deep sleep. If the tramp went to bed half an hour later, he could see a wonderful scene.At the far end of this alkaline land, a cloud of smoke and dust was raised.It was very light at first, and it was difficult to distinguish it from the distant fog when viewed from a distance.But then the smoke rose higher and wider until it formed a dense cloud; apparently only a marching company could stir up such a cloud.Had it been a fertile country, one would have concluded that there was a great herd of cattle grazing on the steppe, moving in his direction.But in this barren land, this situation is obviously impossible.Billows of smoke and dust moved towards the cliff where the two victims slept, getting closer and closer.Amidst the smoke and dust, figures of a canvas-roofed caravan and armed knights appeared. It turned out that this was a large group of caravans heading west.What a mighty caravan!The front team has reached the foot of the mountain, and the rear team is still out of sight on the horizon.On this boundless wilderness, two-wheeled vehicles and four-wheeled vehicles came in an endless stream. Some men rode on horseback, some men walked, forming an intermittent procession.Numerous women staggered forward on the road with heavy burdens on their shoulders, many children ran beside the cars with unsteady steps, and some children sat in the cars and looked out from the white hood.It was obvious that this was not an ordinary procession of immigrants, but a nomadic people, forced by circumstances, to seek another happy land.In this clear air, people shouted and clinked, cars rumbled, and it was a mess.Even though the noise was so loud, it did not wake up the two sleepy people on the mountain. At the head of the procession were more than two dozen determined and serious-looking riders.They wore modest handloom clothes and carried rifles.They came to the foot of the mountain, stopped, and discussed briefly for a while. A tight-lipped, clean-shaven, grizzled man said, "Go to the right and there's a well, brother." Another said: "Go to the right of the Monte Blanca and we'll reach Rio Grande." A third shouted: "Don't worry about the lack of water. The true God who can draw water from the rock will not abandon his chosen one." "Amen! Amen!" Several people replied in unison. They were about to resume their journey when suddenly one of the sharpest-eyed young men pointed to the steep cliff above them and cried out in alarm.It turned out that there was a small pink thing floating on the top of the mountain, which stood out very sharply against the gray rocks.As soon as this thing was discovered, the riders reined in their horses together and took their guns in their hands.At the same time, more riders galloped up from behind for reinforcements.All they could hear was shouting in unison: "There is a celebrity." "There can be no Reds here," said an older figure who seemed to be the leader. "We have passed the Pawnee Reds, and there will be no other tribes until we pass the mountains ahead." "Shall I go up and have a look, Brother Stangerson?" said one of them. "I'll go too, I'll go too." More than a dozen people shouted at the same time. The elder replied, "Leave the horses below, and we will meet you here." Immediately, the young man got off his horse, tied the horse, and climbed up the steep hillside towards the goal that aroused their curiosity. They moved swiftly and silently, with the composure and quickness of movement of a well-trained scout.People at the bottom of the mountain saw them walking like flying among the rocks until they reached the top of the mountain.The boy who first discovered the situation walked in front.The people following him suddenly saw him raise both hands, and they seemed to be taken aback.Everyone stepped forward to take a look, and the scene in front of them also made them stunned. On a small piece of flat ground on top of this barren hill, there is a single large rock.Beside the round stone, there was a tall man lying down, but he had long beard and hair, his face was severe and haggard.From his peaceful face and even breathing, it can be seen that he is deeply asleep.A little girl was sleeping next to him. The little girl's round and white arms were wrapped around the adult's dark and thin neck. Her little head with blond hair was leaning against the man in the cotton velvet upper body. On his chest, the small red mouth was slightly opened, revealing two rows of neat white teeth, and a mischievous smile on his childish face; on his fat and white legs, he was wearing white socks, clean and clean. The shoes, with their gleaming buttons, contrasted eerily with her companion's grown, gaunt siblings.On the rock above the heads of the strange couple, there were three giant vultures looking eagerly. When they saw other people coming, they let out a cry of disappointment and flew away helplessly. The cry of the giant eagle woke up the two sleeping people, and they looked at the people in front of them in bewilderment.The man stood up unsteadily and looked down the mountain.When the Sandman caught him, it was still a desolate wasteland, but now there are countless people and horses.There was a look of disbelief on his face, and he raised his bony hands over his eyebrows for a closer look.He muttered to himself: "I think this is the so-called insanity." The little girl stood beside him, holding the adult's clothes tightly. That kind of surprised eyes, staring around in a daze. Those who came to their rescue soon convinced the two stragglers that their presence was not a hallucination.One of them picked up the little girl and put her on his shoulders, while the other two supported her frail companion and walked towards the convoy together. "My name is John Ferrier," said the vagabond, "and this little thing and I were the only ones left out of twenty-one. They were all dead in the South from nothing to eat or drink." Someone asked: "Is she your child?" The man boldly admitted, saying: "I think she is my child now. She should be mine because I saved her. No one can take her away. From today onwards she will be called Lucy Ferrier. But who are you?" He looked curiously at his tall, strong, dark-faced saviors, and then said, "There seem to be a lot of you." A young man said: "About tens of thousands. We are the persecuted children of God, the elect of the angel Melona." The wanderer said: "I haven't heard about this angel, but she seems to have chosen so many of your subjects who are not bad." Another said solemnly: "No jokes are allowed when talking about the things of God. We are people of the Mormon scriptures, which were written in Egyptian script on gold leaf and delivered to the Holy Spirit at Palmyra. Joseph Smith. We are from Nauvre, Illinois, where we once built our own church. We are now fleeing that imperious Smith and those godless people, even in exile Even in the desert, I am willing." When mentioning Nauv City, Ferrier quickly remembered, and he said, "I see, you are." "We're Mormons," said everyone in unison. "So where are you going now?" "We don't know ourselves. God guides us through our prophet. You must go to the prophet and he will tell you how to put you." At this time, they had already reached the foot of the mountain, and a large group of immigrants immediately rushed up and surrounded them. Among them were women with fair faces and gentle faces, children who were laughing and strong, and men with sincere eyes.When everyone saw these two strangers, how young the child was and how weak the adult was, they couldn't help but sigh in pity.However, the escorts did not stop. They lined up and moved forward, followed by a large group of Mormons until they came to a carriage.This carriage is very tall, very gorgeous and exquisite, and it is quite different from other carriages.There were six horses in this harness, and two in the others, and the most was four.Beside the driver, sat a man who was only thirty years old, but with his huge head and resolute expression, one could tell that he was a leader.He is reading a book with a brown cover.When the group came before him, he put the book aside and listened attentively to the report of the anecdote.After listening, he looked at the two distressed people. He said sternly: "We can only take you with us if we believe in our religion. We don't allow wolves to mix with our flock. It's better to let you, a rotten spot, destroy the whole fruit in the future." Let your bones be exposed in this wilderness. Are you willing to accept this condition and go with us?" "I'm willing to follow you, on any condition." Ferrier said with such an emphasis that even the stable elders couldn't help laughing.Only the leader still maintained a solemn and solemn expression. "Brother Stangerson," said he, "take him in, and give him food and drink, and the lad too. You are also responsible for teaching him our creed. We have been too late. Arise, and move on!" "Go, go to Mount Xing!" The Mormons shouted together.The orders passed down one after another like waves, and the human voice gradually disappeared in the distance.With the crackling of whips and the rumble of cars, the caravan moved into action, and the whole procession moved forward again.Elder Stangerson took the two wrecks into his car, where food had been prepared for them. He said: "You stay here. Soon you will recover from your fatigue. From now on, remember always that you are members of our Church. Brigham Young so instructed, and his words were based on Speaking in the voice of Joseph Smith, that is, speaking the will of God." Notes: