. . . I was very young, and do not remember much of the details of our journey across the plains. My father had three yoke of cattle, one yoke were cows and they were milking, and one evening we stopped at a camp and before father got the cattle unhitched from the wagon I crept in between them and was milking on of the cows. My father was very angry and said I might have been kicked to death. I did not try it again. My mother made me a large apron and I used to walk ahead of the wagons and gather buffalo chips for our fire. Buffalo were very plentiful, the prairies were black with them, must have been millions. We arrived in Salt Lake Valley soon after the October Conference. . . . [p.21]

BIB: McCune, Henry Frederick, Autobiography and diary. Typescript. p. 21 (CHL)
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