The Mormons were up and doing with the dawn.
They were stalwart men, rather silent, and all workers.

It was interesting to see them pack for the day's journey.

They traveled with wagons and mules, in the most primitive way, which Jones assured me was exactly as their fathers had crossed the plains fifty years before, on the trail to Utah.
All morning we made good time, and as we descended into the desert, the air became warmer, the scrubby cedar growth began to fail, and the bunches of sage were few and far between.

I turned often to gaze back at the San Francisco peaks.

The snowcapped tips glistened and grew higher, and stood out in startling relief.