We had sighted Bunkerville from the mesa, and Virgin Valley lay before us, but it was green only in spots, very small spots, and it was nearly dark when we reached the river. Here I remembered the stage driver’s advice to get across quick, so we put Dixie on ahead and started. Much to my surprise Dixie seemed to get frightened and refused to pull and backed into the team, and we came very near getting “set” right there; but between a few stones thrown at her by Doc and a cussing from me she started up quickly enough and we got across. This was her first real river-crossing and not being near where I could reach her with the whip, she came near making a mess of it, but after that first time she never refused to take a ford again. We did not drive any farther that day, but camped on a grassy spot and after feeding the horses grain turned them loose.
The next morning we drove through Bunkerville, a Mormon town, or settlement, they would call it, of sixty families. We bought feed of one man and groceries at the store. Miss Bunker waited on us, and when Doc found out her grandmother was sick he went right over and paid a professional call, and cheered the old lady up.
The houses are built mostly of adobe or clay bricks. The people raise alfalfa and vegetables, small grains by irrigation, and some stock. The store is a community affair and the houses are built fairly close together, the real farming being done outside in small tracts, under ditches taken from the Virgin River higher up. We stayed about an hour and a half in this place and then moved on, our next objective point being St. George, Utah.
We are still in Nevada. To-night we will be in the northwest corner of Arizona and the next day in Utah. That sounds as if we are moving fast.
Driving up the river we have some fine views, but very hard going, up steep and rocky hills, fording the river half a dozen times, through quicksand and long stretches of sand. We are appreciating our horses more than ever; they are game to the core and never refuse to pull. Dixie especially is a tough little beast, Bess a steady plodder, and Kate a good wheel horse and saddler, but she hates to leave the other horses.
Shortly after leaving Bunkerville we passed Mesquite, a small town on the north side of the river, where the cowboys started from who passed us near Moapa on their way to Los Angeles with the bunch of horses. At five-thirty we reached the top of a mesa overlooking Littlefield, a quaint Mormon settlement of five houses.