There must have been some tears as they departed, for behind them the people left the graves of their loved ones -- babies, children, spouses, parents and grandparents. They carried with them memories and the sadness of dreams not fulfilled.

Just as I reached this point in my thoughts, right in the middle of what used to be Giles, Utah, the old brown mare decided that her time had come. Down she flopped into the powdery blue dust. I leaped from the saddle just in time.

But the old mare did not die after all. I revived her by carrying my hat full of water, many times, from the Fremont River. I bathed her her face and quenched her thirst. I even offered a little prayer.

Then I got her onto her feet and led her many miles. As the sun slid behind the western hills, I mounted once again and rode into Hanksville. There I got my bay pony and the following day we set out, he bucking, toward home. But that is another story.

Clay Mulford Robinson