Theodore Winthrop,
John Brent — Chapter XVI. Armstrong
“ The tender hues of morning glorified the blue adobes of Bridger’s shabby fort. It rested on the plain, still as the grave, — stiller for the contrast of this silent hour with last night’s riot. A deathly quiet, too, dwelt upon the Mormon caravan. There were the white-topped wagons just growing rosy with the fond colors of early day. No abandoned camp of a fled army could have looked more lonely. Half a mile from the train were the cattle feeding quietly in a black mass, like a herd of buffalo. There was not one man, out of our own party, to be seen. ”
