The Fruits of Disobedience

FRUITS OF DISOBEDIENCE. BY S. F. KIMBALL. It is difficult for some of the younger members of our Church to understand what the Saints have had to pass through since first they began to settle in these valleys. In early days all had to work who were able. We had no railroads, then, to bring trainloads of coal right to our doors, but were compelled to burn wood. It took a strong man two days to go to the canyon and get a load of wood. Then it took him two days more to chop it into fire-wood. This would last a small family probably three weeks or a month. It was nothing unusual to see a boy twelve or thirteen years of age driving a team to the canyon, in company with his father or brother, who also had teams to look after. Like conditions prevailed in the different avocations of life. About the last of May, 1865, our father, Heber C. Kimbalh purchased quite a valuable work horse from the Knowlton family, paying them three hundred and fifty dollars, cash down. That evening he instructed David H. and myself to hitch up our teams the next morning and go to North Mill Creek canyon, east of Bountiful, after wood. He entrusted the new horse to the care of David, who was but fifteen years of age at the time, I being three years older. Every morning father had family prayers, and he never allowed us boys to go to work until after this was attended to. He would not only pray for us, but for the horses and wagons, and even the harness. The next morning David and I hitched up our teams bright and early and drove them out of the yard very quietly, so as not to wake our father. We well knew that we were disobeying orders, and that if he should happen to

THE FRUITS OF DISOBEDIENCE. 555 iiear us driving out, he would call us back and have us put our horses back into the stable and remain until after prayers. This was not our first offense, and we were quite successful that morning in getting away. Nothing unusual happened until after we had reached the head of the canyon, wfiich is about seventeen miles from Salt Lake City. We loaded our wagons with wood, which had already been gotten out for us, and started for home, myself being in the lead. We had not gone far before the Knowlton horse began to jump about so frantically that my brother could not manage him. I stopped my team and ran back to where he was, and finally got the horse quieted down. I then told David that he would better drive my team, and that I would take charge of his. We then drove on until we came to a very steep and narrow dugway, which was quite sidling in places. This was the most dangerous piece of road in the canyon. Not long before this. Father Kinney's son met with a terrible death in this same place. The wagon that he was driving tipped over into the creek, and fell on him. In those days we had no brakes on our wagons, and when we came to a hill that was too steep for the horses to hold the loaded wagon back, we locked one of the hind wheels and drove down in that way. When David reached the top of this hill, he stopped his team, as usual, locked the wheel, and then drove on down. I then drove my team to the brink of the hill, but before I could get it stopped, the Knowlton horse began to pitch and lunge ahead so frantically, that it was impossible for me to stop him. I fully realized the awful position that I was in. Like a flash of lightning, the death of Father Kinney's son came before my mind. David, by this time, was about fifty yards on head of me. I yelled to him, at the top of my voice, telling him to whip up, and get out of my way as quickly as possible. By this time my team was running. I had dropped one of the lines, and could do nothing but hold on to the load of wood as best I could. I was satisfied that if my team ran into his wagon, in such a narrow and sidling place, that it would not only knock his outfit off into the raging torrent below, but that we would all go down together. The dugway next to the creek was probably twenty-five or thirty feet high, and almost perpendicular. The stream below was quite high and the bottom of

556 IMPROVEMENT ERA. it was strewn with huge boulders. The water rushing and beating against them on its downward course, made it appear as white as snow. This also made such a roaring that we could hardly hear. David looked back and saw my team coming at full speed. For the first time he sensed tne danger that we were in, and immediately began to put the whip to his horses, letting them go as fast as he dared. By so doing he took his life in his own hands in order to try and save me, as well as himself. My binding chain began to loosen, and my wood commenced to bound about. Something had to be done immediately, as it was impossible for me to hold on much longer. At the foot of this dugway was a narrow and dangerous pole-bridge, that crossed this treacherous stream. On crossing this bridge with loaded wagons, under ordinary circumstances, we had our teams walk across it as slowly as possible. In a miraculous manner, David had managed to get his team across safely, and had reached a little flat on the other side, and was out of danger a few seconds before I overtook him. But what was to become of me? I still held the right-hand line in my hands. As my team was headed, my left wheels would miss the bridge, on the upper side, at least three feet. There was just one chance left for me. If I could steer my horses a little to the right and strike the bridge squarely, I believed that I would beable to cross it. If I should happen to miss it", even one-eighth of an inch, it meant certain destruction for myself and team. This was the danger spot of the whole canyon. I made a superhuman effort. I pulled on the line as hard as I could under the circumstances, and managed to get my team turned a little to the right and came within two inches of running off the bridge, on the upper side, but went across all right; By this time I had completely lost my balance, and was just falling onto the heels of this crazy horse, when my team crashed into my brother David's wagon with such tremendous force, that it drove a pole almost through the body of the Knowlton horse, killing him almost instantly. So far we had not seen a human being in the canyon, and the lonely and dismal feeling that took possession of us nearly drove us wild. We began to realize the danger that we had just passed through, and our faces were as white as chalk, while our hearts were beating sledgehammer blows. We were speechless, as well as

THE FRUITS OF DISOBEDIENCE. 557 powerless, and it took us some time before we could collect our thoughts. The first words that were spoken were by David, who said that he would never run away from prayers again, as long as he lived. I felt a little more that way than he did, but said nothing. I offered up a silent prayer, thanking God, my Heavenly Father, for saving our lives in such a miraculous manner. The next thing we did was to get the wagons and dead horse out of the road. We then tied faithful old "Nig" horse behind our wagon and drove homeward. We arrived at the warm springs about 7 p. m., being two hours late. We there met our mothers, Sarah Ann and Vilate. My mother had had a terrible presentiment of what had happened, just at the very time that we were passing through this terrible ordeal, and had been almost frantic up to this time. They never expected to see either of us home alive. We finally got them pacified, and drove on home. It seemed that father, also, had been forewarned of our trouble. When we met him at the gate, his face was flushed, and he was unable to speak a word, while big tears were running down his cheeks. The next morning we were called into the prayer room with the rest of the family. Before prayers he made a few remarks, as he usually did. Among the things he said were these words, that Satan had laid his plans to destroy us two boys, and that the death of that horse saved my life. Nothing but the power of God, he said, could have saved us, as that horse was possessed with an evil spirit. He thought that if we had obeyed his counsel and remained at home until after prayers, that Satan would not have had the power to endanger our lives. He hoped that it would be a lesson that we would always remember. Then we all kneeled down, and before he had prayed many minutes, we could begin to feel the blood tingling in our veins; the Spirit of God rested down upon us in mighty power. Before he was through, there was not a person in the room who was not weeping. I had never heard such a prayer before, and what I heard on that occasion will remain with me as long as I live. Salt Lake City, Utah.