Frank Williams memoir, page 2

understand, though he seemed to understand my talk pretty well.When we reached our destination he showed me into a stone hut where I spread out my bed upon a straw cot and slept till morning. I got breakfast, at a place to where the stage driver directed me, with a man named Collins who kept a little store near one of the mills. One end of his house was corded up with Spanish bayonets cactus which he was using for fuel. After breakfast I asked him if he knew my uncle and where I could find him. He said that he knew my uncle quite well and that a few days ago, he, my uncle and a man named Stanley had gone from Goodpsrings, Nevada to the new camp of Vanderbilt. He explained that Vanderbilt was about [28 miles] to the southeast and he showed me the road to take. He introduced me also to something altogether new in domestic arrangements by handing me an empty bottle and advising me to fill it with water for the trip. I was told that the distance was about 28 miles and that there was no water on the way. It was a clear, cool December morning and I struck out at a brisk pace. The road was well marked and easy to follow. I reached Vanderbilt at about 3 o'clock that afternoon.Upon inquiry I found that the man Stanley had been in Vanderbilt for a few days, but had returned to Goodsprings, and that my uncle was not with him. Thus I saw that my trip to Vanderbilt was a failure. The town itself, though, was most interesting and I spent the afternoon amid scenes and