Chapter XIII: Story of the Jayhawkers (1)

In the foregoing chapters describing the trip across the deserts and mountains, the author has had occasion many times to refer to the "Jayhawkers." Their history is in many respects no less remarkable and intensely interesting than that of his own party. The author has therefore collected many notes and interviews with prominent members and presents herewith the only written history of their travels.

The little train afterward known by this name was made up in the state of Illinois in 1849, of industrious, enterprising young men who were eager to see and explore the new country then promising gold to those who sought. The young men were from Knoxville, Galesburg and other towns. Not all were influenced by the desire for gold. It was said that California had a milder climate and that pleasant homes could there be made, and the long, cold winter avoided.

They placed some of the best men in position to manage for the whole. The outfit was placed on a steam-boat and transported to Kanesville, on the Missouri River above Council Bluffs. Some of the company went with the goods while others bought teams and wagons in Western Missouri and drove to the appointed place. Kanesville was a small Mormon camp, while Council Bluffs was a trading post of a few log cabins on the river bank, inhabited mostly by Indians. There was no regular ferry at either place, and our party secured a log raft which they used to get their wagons and provisions across, making the oxen swim.

They asked all the questions they could think of from everyone who pretended to know anything about the great country to the west of them, for it seemed a great undertaking to set out into the land they could see stretching out before them across the river. Other parties bound the same way, also arrived and joined them. They chose a guide who claimed to have been over the road before. When all were gathered together the guide told them that they were about to enter an Indian country, and that the dusky residents did not always fancy the idea of strangers richer than themselves passing through, and sometimes showed out some of the bad traits the Indians had been said to possess. It would therefore be better to organize and travel systematically. He would divide the company into divisions and have each division choose a captain, and the whole company unite in adopting some rules and laws which they would all agree to observe. This arrangement was satisfactorily accomplished, and they moved out in a sort of military style. And then they launched out on the almost endless western prairie, said then to be a thousand miles wide, containing few trees, and generally unknown.

These Illinois boys were young and full of mirth and fun which was continually overflowing. They seemed to think they were to be on a sort of every day picnic and bound to make life as merry and happy as it could be. One of the boys was Ed Doty who was a sort of model traveler in this line. A camp life suited him; he could drive an ox team, cook a meal of victuals, turn a pan of flap-jacks with a flop, and possessed many other frontier accomplishments. One day when Doty was engaged in the duty of cooking flap-jacks another frolicsome fellow came up and took off the cook's hat and commenced going through the motions of a barber giving his customer a vigorous shampoo, saying:--"_I am going to make a Jayhawker out of you, old boy_." Now it happened at the election for captain in this division that Ed Doty was chosen captain, and no sooner was the choice declared than the boys took the newly elected captain on their shoulders and carried him around the camp introducing him as the _King Bird of the Jayhawkers_. So their division was afterwards known as The Jayhawkers, but whether the word originated with them, and John Brown forgot to give them credit, or whether it was some old frontier word used in sport on the occasion is more than I will undertake to say; however the boys felt proud of their title and the organization has been kept up to this day by the survivors, as will be related further on.

The first few days they got along finely and began to lose all feeling of danger and to become rather careless in their guard duty. When the cattle had eaten enough and lain down, the guards would sometimes come into camp and go to sleep, always finding the stock all right in the morning and no enemy or suspicious persons in sight. But one bright morning no cattle were in sight, which was rather strange as the country was all prairie. They went out to look, making a big circuit and found no traces till they came to the river, when they found tracks upon the bank and saw some camps across the river, a mile or so away. Doty had a small spy glass and by rigging up a tripod of small sticks to hold it steady they scanned the camps pretty closely and decided that there were too many oxen for the wagons in sight.

Some of the smartest of them stripped off their clothes and started to swim the stream, but landed on the same side they started from. Captain Doty studied the matter a little and then set out himself, being a good swimmer, and by a little shrewd management and swimming up stream when the current was strongest, soon got across to where he could touch bottom and shouted to the others to do the same. Soon all the swimmers were across.

They could now see that there were two trains on that side and that the farther one had already begun to move and was about a mile in advance of the nearest one, Doty said something must be done, and although they only were clothed in undershirts they approached the nearest camp and were handed some overalls for temporary use. The men in this camp on hearing about the missing oxen said the fellows in the forward train went over and got them, for, as they said there were no wagons in sight and they must be strays. He said the forward train was from Tennessee, and that they had some occasion to doubt their honesty and had refused to travel with them any further. They said they were all old Missourians, and did not want other people's property and if the boys found their cattle with the Tenneseans, and wanted any help to get them back again to call on them, and putting in some good strong swear words for emphasis.

The boys, barefooted and with only overalls and shirts, started after the moving train which they called to a halt when overtaken. The coarse grass was pretty hard to hurry through, clothed as they were. The train men were pretty gruff and wanted to know what was wanted. Capt. Doty very emphatically told them he could see some of his oxen in their train, and others in the herd, and he proposed to have them all back again. The Jayhawker boys were unarmed but were in a fighting mood and determined to have the stock at all hazards, and if not peaceably, war might commence. The boys saw that the two trains were of about equal strength, and if worse came to worst they could go back and get their guns and men and come over in full force after their property, and they were assured the Missourians would help them and a combination of forces would give them a majority and they could not be beaten by the Tennessee crowd. There was a good deal of talk, but finally when Doty demanded that their cattle be unyoked and the others separated from the herd, they yielded and gave them all their stock, some seventy head.

The Missourians had come up and heard the talk, and some of them went back and helped drive the cattle to the river, and deal out some double shotted thunder against the biggest scamps they had come across. It was quite a job to get the cattle across the river. They would go in a little way and then circle round and round like a circus, making no progress. They finally put a rope on one of them and a man led him as far as he could, which was more than half way, and although they landed a good ways down stream, they got them all across safely, left their borrowed overalls in the hands of their friends, with a thousand thanks for valuable assistance, and plunged into the swift running Platte, and swam back again to the northern side. They drove the straggling oxen back to camp with a sense of great satisfaction, and in turn received the praise of their friends who said that Ed Doty was the best Jayhawker of the border.

This was the first unpleasantness and they were afterwards more cautious and stood guard all night, watching closely all the time, both night and day, for for any signs of danger. Thus in time they reached Salt Lake, rather late in the season, but safe and sound, having escaped cholera or other disease, and in good spirits to surmount any further difficulties which might be met.

When the Jayhawkers reached Salt Lake it was found that it was not safe to try to go the regular northern route to California, as they were advised by those who seemed to know, as they might be snowed in on the Sierra Nevada Mountains and perish. The Mormons told them that the snow often fell there twenty feet deep, and some other stories likely to deter them from making the attempt. They also told them of a route farther south by which they could come into California at Los Angeles, or they could remain in Salt Lake until May when it would be safe to try the mountain route again. After listening to the talk of the mountaineers who claimed to have been over the route and to know all about it, and camping some time to rest and learn all they could, they finally decided on taking the southern route. One Mormon told them of a place where they could make a cut-off and save five hundred miles, and, if they would follow his instructions, they would find the route fully as good as the one usually traveled which was not much better than a trail. The cut-off was so instilled into their minds that they had great confidence in the report and talked very favorably of taking it.

The man Williams made for them a map of the proposed route and explained it to them and others who had gathered at Salt Lake, and from the map they could see how much was to be gained in time and distance by taking that route. A month or two of travel was indeed something to gain, and as the roads seemed similar in quality the reasoning was very plausible The map explained all the watering places and favorable things but said nothing about a desert, and as there was no one to tell them any unfavorable side to this plan there were many who quite concluded to go this way, and among those who did so were the Jayhawkers, and the "Williams Short Route" was freely talked about as a settled thing by them.

They now set about preparing to move. They sold, traded, and bought oxen till they had the best and fattest teams in Salt Lake Valley; selected good provisions, and plenty of them so as to be safe in case of delay, and contended that nothing could stop them in a country where but little snow could be, and water was as plentiful as shown on the map. They wanted to reach the gold mines and this was the shortest route and even if it was still considerably longer than the northern way they said they would rather be moving along and thus gain time than to so long in camp with nothing to do by which they could earn a cent. There were here in Salt Lake ten times as many men as could find employment, and Brigham's saints would be pretty sure to get all of the odd jobs to the exclusion of the heretics.

To bring the matter to a determination a paper was drawn up for those to sign who wanted to go the southern route and it was pretty generally signed. The Mormon elder, John Hunt, was consulted, and as he seemed to know the general southern route better than any one else, he was prevailed upon to guide the train through on the old Spanish Trail. This had never been used as a wagon road, but he thought it could be without much difficulty, and he said if they could secure him a fair sized train he would go and conduct them through for ten dollars a wagon. This proposition was accepted after some consideration, and all who wished to do so were given permission to join the train. In a few days there were one hundred and seven wagons enlisted for this route, including seven Mormons bound for San Bernardino.

Preparations for the trip now began in good earnest, and the Saints were liberally patronized in purchase of flour and meat which were the principal things they had to sell. As their several wagons were loaded they moved out in small lots to the south to keep in good fresh feed for their animals, and to move on slowly till all were ready, when they would join in one large body and proceed. The guide was in no special haste as he said he wanted to wait a little later so the weather in the south would be cooler than they would be likely to find it if they pressed on at once. He said that in summer it was so hot that no white man could endure the heat. He said they could work slowly along the trail, and when the right time came he would move out himself, and that they might be assured that it would then be the coolest and best time in which to travel down there. So the company dallied along, and it was October before the whole train was made up at a point about a hundred miles south of Salt Lake.

The complete organization was divided into seven divisions, each with its captain, and division No. 1 was to lead the march the first day and then fall to the rear while No. 2 took the advance, and so continued till all had taken their turn. The leading party was to guard and care for the cattle and deliver them in the morning. The regulations were read aloud to the captains, and this rather large army of men, women and children, with about five hundred head of stock, moved out very systematically. It would sometimes be fully ten o'clock before the rear division could make a start, and correspondingly late before they could get up with the main camp at night. They got along very well, but cleaned the country of grass for some distance each side of the trail, as they swept along.

About the first of November Capt. Smith overtook us with the pack train, and camped with us at night. He formed many acquaintances and told them he was going to take a shorter route and save five hundred miles, rather than take the long route by way of Los Angeles. He had a map of his proposed route, and it was very much like the one we had. He also stated that it could probably be as easily traveled as the one by way of Los Angeles, and as a consequence of his talk, cut-off fever began to rage in camp again. Some got very enthusiastic in the matter and spoke publicly in favor of following Capt. Smith when he should come to the place when his short route turned away from the other trail. His plan grew so much in favor that when the place was reached a hundred wagons turned out into the Smith trail, leaving Capt. Hunt only the seven Mormon wagon bound for San Bernardino, Hunt stood at the forks of the road as the wagons went by and said to them;--"Good-bye, friends. I cannot, according to my agreement go with you, for I was hired for this road, and no other was mentioned. I am in duty bound to go even if only one wagon decides to go." When the last wagon had passed him he still stood talking with several who had chosen the new way and told them they were taking a big risk, for they did not know very much about the route, and he had been thinking that they might find it pretty rough and hard to get over the first time. He said that if all decided to go that way he would go and help them, even if they went to h-ll, but as it was he could not. He wished them luck and the two trains parted company.

At the end of three days of travel on the Smith trail they came to the top of a long steep hill. The trail went down and down, and they see no way of crossing the terribly deep cañon that was before them. So they went into camp and sent explorers out to investigate and find a crossing if possible.

On the second day the explorers began to return with very unfavorable reports, and many who found their progress thus blocked turned about and started to follow Hunt. Most of the wagons which remained had each one or more of their men out exploring and could not turn back until their return. Several of the Jayhawkers having once started on this route were very anxious to get through on it if a way could be found for them to do it, and therefore searched farther and with greater determination than the others. When they returned they reported they had found a way around the head of the cañon and they believed it to be the right way. The map Williams had given them did not show this cañon and they believed it to be correct, and that the real road led around at the place which they had found, and no further trouble would be met.

Acting on this report about twenty wagons, including the Jayhawkers, concluded to go ahead. "We can beat the other fellows a month," said they, and so they hitched up and pulled out in a northerly direction, feeling in good spirits and hopeful of success.

They named this place Mt. Misery. While camped here a lone and seemingly friendless man died and was buried. None seem now to remember his name, but think he was from Kentucky. He was low with consumption and not strong enough to endure the hardships of the journey.

About the third night the Jayhawkers were overtaken by seven more wagons owned by A. Bennett and friends, J.B. Arcane and family, two men named Earhart and a son of one of them, and one or two other wagons.

The Jayhawker's train was made up of men from many states, but seemed well united and was as complete as when they first started. The Author was with the party that came up in the rear, which had started later but traveled faster on account of having a road broken for them. He visited the leaders in camp when they were discussing the necessity of forming a new travelling compact to help and protect each other on the road. Those who had no families were objecting to being bound to those who had women and children with them. They argued that the road would be hard and difficult and those wagons with women and children would require more assistance than they would be able to render in return. They said they could go back and follow Hunt who was on a better road and they could proceed with more safely.

Among those with this train was Rev. J.W. Brier, his wife and three children. He objected to being turned back and said he did not want to be assisted, but would go with them and do his part and take care of himself. The Author listened to the various speeches without speaking and became satisfied that it would end in every one looking out for himself in case of hard times. He went over to their camp again the next night and wished to ask them why they were steering so nearly due north. He said to them that they were going toward Salt Lake rather than California, and that the Bennet party did not feel inclined to follow them any farther in that direction. They replied that their map told them to go north a day or more and then they would find the route as represented. They would then turn west and reach Owen's Lake and from there there would be no more trouble. The Jayhawker crowd seemed to think they could go anywhere and no difficulty could happen which they couldn't overcome. Bennett's little train turned west from this point and the Jayhawkers went on north, but before night they changed their minds and came following on after Bennett whom they overtook and passed, again taking the lead.

Thus far the country had been well watered and furnished plenty of grass, and most of them talked and believed that this kind of rolling country would last all the way through. The men at leisure scattered around over the hills on each side of the route taken by the train, and in advance of it, hunting camping places and making a regular picnic of it. There were no hardships, and one man had a fiddle which he tuned up evenings and gave plenty of fine music. Joy and happiness seemed the rule, and all of the train were certainly having a good time of it.

But gradually there came a change as the wagon wheels rolled westward. The valleys seemed to have no streams in them, and the mountain ranges grew more and more broken, and in the lower ground a dry lake could be found, and water and grass grew scarce--so much so that both men and oxen suffered. These dry lake beds deceived them many times. They seemed as if containing plenty of water, and off the men would go to explore. They usually found the distance to them about three times as far as they at first supposed, and when at last they reached them they found no water, but a dry, shining bed, smooth as glass, but just clay, hard as a rock. Most of these dry lakes showed no outlet, nor any inlet for that matter, though at some period in the past they must have been full of water. Nothing grew in the shape of vegetables or plants except a small, stunted, bitter brush.

Away to the west and north there was much broken country, the mountain ranges higher and rougher and more barren, and from almost every sightly elevation there appeared one or more of these dry lake beds. One night after about three days of travel the whole of the train of twenty seven wagons was camped along the bank of one of these lakes, this one with a very little water in it not more than one fourth or one half an inch in depth, and yet spread out to the width of a mile or more. It was truly providential, for by digging holes along the border the water would run into them and prove abundant for all, both oxen and men. If it had proved dry, as so many before had proved, or if we had been a few days earlier or later we might not have found a drop. This proved to be the last time the whole twenty seven wagons were gathered in one camp together.

The Author came into camp about nine o'clock in the evening after climbing many peaks and taking a survey of the surrounding country with a field glass. Men from nearly every mess came to him to inquire what he had seen. They asked all sorts of questions and wanted an opinion as to the advisability of trailing across the prairie directly west, which then seemed easy. They were told that from what could be seen from the summit of buttes both north and south of the camp, ranging a hundred or so miles in almost every direction, it was believed no water could be found, between the present camp and a range of mountains which could be seen crossing the route far to the west. "Well," said Capt. Doty of the Jayhawkers, "I don't like to hear such discouraging talk from Manley, but I think we will have to steer straight ahead. The prospect for water seems to be about the same, west or south, and I cannot see that we would better ourselves, by going north." When morning came Capt. Doty and his party yoked up and set out straight across the desert, leaving seven wagons of the Bennett party still in camp.

For some time all of us had seen in the range ahead an appearance of a pass, or lower place in the mountain, and we had got to calling it Martin's Pass, naming it after Jim Martin. There was a snow-capped peak just to the south of it and the pass, now apparently exactly west of the lake camp, seemed to the Jayhawkers easy to reach. Their wills were strong enough and they were running over with determination and energy enough to carry them over any plain, no matter how dry or barren, or over any mountain no matter how rugged and steep.

Five days they traveled, without finding water, and small supply they took along had been consumed. For lack of water they could not eat or sleep. The oxen gathered round the little fire and seemed to beg for water, they had no cud to chew unless it was the cud of disappointment. The range of mountains they had been aiming for still seemed far away and the possible show for reaching it seemed very poor indeed, and the prospect of any water hole between them and the mountains poorer yet. Hope was pretty near gone. Martins mess unyoked their oxen from the wagons, put some small packs on their own backs, and loaded some upon the backs of the oxen, and turned south toward the nearest snowy mountain they could see, the same one towards which the Bennett party steered from the lake camp.

The Doty party kept their courage longer and kept on straight ahead for another day, and then camped, almost without hope. No rest came to them, nor sleep. Towards morning as they stood around the fire a stray cloud appeared and hid the stars, and shortly after began to unload a cargo of snow it carried. They spread out every blanket, and brushed up every bit they could from the smooth places, kindled a little fire of brush under the camp kettles and melted all the snow all of them could gather, besides filling their mouths as fast as ever they could, hoping that it would full in sufficient quantities to satisfy themselves and the oxen, and quench their dreadful thirst. Slowly the cloud moved scattering the snowflakes till they felt relieved. The last time the Author conversed with a member of this party was in 1892, and it was conceded that this storm saved the lives of both man and beast in that little band of Jayhawkers. It was like manna falling from Heaven, and as surely saved their lives as did the manna of the Bible save the lives of the tribes of Israel. They had no reason to expect a storm of rain or snow, but came to them just as they were perishing. A little further on they came to a small stream of water, and as the bed showed only a recent flow it must also have come from the little local storm further up the mountain. They used this water freely, even though it was not very good, and it acted on them very much like a solution of Glanber Salts.

They decided at first that they had better follow the stream southward, but after a little time, feeling the sickness caused by the water, they saw it was no advantage and turned west again, bearing to the north toward a sort of pass they could now see in the mountains in that direction. This stream is now known as the Amargosa, or bitter, river.

The new direction in which they marched gave them an up-hill route for thirty or forty miles, rough and barren, with no water or grass. There was no road or trail to follow, the oxen were as weak as their owners from drinking the bitter water, and the road needed some clearing and breaking in places before the wagons could pass. They moved quite slowly and reached the summit on the second night with the loss of a single ox. The Author would say here that this was the last ox which was allowed to die without using the flesh for food, and it was from this same one he cut a steak to eat on Christmas eve, 1849.

From the summit they took a way down a dark, deep cañon having a steep slope, and very rocky and bad, but down which the oxen drew their loads much easier than when they came up, reaching water on the third day, where there were many springs, and a sort of coarse grass for the oxen. The place is now known as Furnace Creek. The Jayhawkers passed on, and here at these very springs was where the Author overtook the Rev. J.W. Brier delivering a lecture to his children on the benefits of an early education, as referred to in his narrative.

As the Jayhawkers drove out of this Furnace Creek Cañon the valley into which they came was very narrow, the high, snow-capped mountain before them seemed steeper and rougher than ever, so steep in fact that it could not be ascended by a man on foot. A short distance below could be seen a lake containing water, and the pass toward which they had been directing their course seemed to the north of them. They therefore turned their course in that direction. The road was sandy, and the brush that grew on it was only a few inches high. On their way they came to an abandoned Indian camp occupied by one poor old blind red man. He would hold his mouth open like a young bird begging for something to eat. One man dropped kernels of parched corn into his mouth, but instead of eating them he quickly spit them out; it seemed that he had been left to die and could not or would not. His hair was white as snow. His skin looked about the color of a smoked ham, and so crippled was he that he crawled about like a beast, on all fours. It was barely possible that he had been left to watch, and that his great infirmities were only pretended, but they seemed genuine enough, and were doubtless true. They left him in peaceable possession of the spot and traveled on.

They approached the base of the mountain in front of what they had all along supposed to be a pass, and found, as they had lately begun to suspect, that there was no pass that their wagons could be taken through, and they must be abandoned. The camp was poor. What little water there was had a salty taste, and they could only find here and there a bunch of the poorest grass. The oxen stood around as if utterly dispirited, and would sometimes make a faint effort to pick up and eat some of the dry brush that grew around the desolate camp. This camp is now known to be in the northern part of Death Valley, but then they knew no names for anything, but if dreariness and absence of life, and threatened danger all around were any indication, they might well have named it Death Valley as was afterwards done by the party with whom the Author traveled.

The party had been brave till now, but when they realized that they must make pack animals of themselves, and trudge on, they knew not where, perhaps to only a lingering death, the keen edge of disappointment cut close, and they realized how desolate they were. They felt much inclined to attribute all their troubles to the advice of the Mormons. Some said that the plan was thus to wipe so many more hated Gentiles out of the way, and wishes were deep and loud that the Mormons might all be buried out of sight in the Great Salt Lake. They thought Lot's wife must have been turned to salt in the neighborhood, everything was so impregnated with saline substances, and the same result might come to them. But the inherent manhood of the little band came to their relief and they determined not to die without a struggle for escape and life.

They killed some of their oxen, and took the wood of their wagons and kindled fires to dry and smoke the flesh so it would be light and easy to carry with them. They scattered all surplus baggage around the ground, carefully storing and saving the bit of bread that yet remained and dividing it equally among the party. They also divided the tea, coffee, rice and some such things, and each one agreed that he could not ask aught of his neighbor more. Knapsacks were improvised from parts of the wagon canvas, and long strips of canvas were made into a sort of pack harness for the oxen. It was a sad sight to see the strong and vigorous young men of a few days ago reduced to such straits; almost skeletons now, with no hope of nourishment to invigorate them. They made canteens by sewing a couple of small powder cans in cloth, with a band to go over the shoulders.

The Jayhawkers were still making their preparations when the Martin party and Rev. J.W. Brier and family came up to their camp, having taken a circuit around farther to the south. The Martin party was already in marching order and this camp was so poor that they did not wait, but gave all their oxen they had left to Mr. Brier and said they could get on faster without them. They took a straight course over the hills and up the mountain, saying they believed they had provisions enough upon their backs to last them through, and that nothing should check their progress till they reached the other side, where they said were fertile valleys and plenty of chance to live.

The Doty party, or Jayhawkers, when they were ready started first a northerly course to find a more favorable place to cross the range and drove their oxen with them, each with a small pack. They soon came to some good water, and after refreshing themselves turned westward to cross the great mountain before them. Both men and oxen were shod with moccasins made of raw-hide to protect the feet against sharp rocks. They could see no trail but merely picked out the best way to go. While climbing the steep mountain side they came across a dead ox left by some party that had gone before them. They cut out the tongue and some of the best meat and ate it to eke out their own small stock, and carried some pieces with them, but soon threw it all away but enough for a roast for supper.

When it was getting dark they were almost at the summit, but there was no good camping place, and they saw a small fire light at a little distance and went to it, finding a poor lone camper taking care of himself. They camped here also. It seemed as if there were many men from the various parties scattered all around the country, each one seeking out the path which seemed to suit best his tender feet or present fancy, steering west as well as mountains and cañon would permit, some farther north, some farther south and generally demoralized, each thinking that as a last resort he would be able to save his own life. It seemed to be a question of will and endurance, strong hearts and keeping the body in motion. The weak and faint must fail, and the strong said to the weak;--"Stand up; be a man; don't fall down;" and so the strong spurred on the weak and kept them up as best they could.

Down the mountain they went, on the west side and instead of Los Angeles, which some of them expected to see, they saw only a salt lake in the midst of a barren desert valley and their route lay directly across it. They traveled in several directions as they went across. One went across the valley on a strip of dried mud between two small lakes. Others followed down along the east side of the lake near the foot of the mountain, where they found some good water and an old Indian camp. They found some mosquite beans, which they did not know were of much use, but really, if they had known how to fix them up a little they would have been good food.

Capt. Doty's mess crossed between the lakes on the strip of dry mud while others went on where it was still soft and left marks of their foot-steps. Both parties turned up a small cañon on the west side and began the ascent of a black and barren range, containing no water, but in the bed of the ravine near the summit they found some damp sand and tried to dig with their hands to find some of the precious fluid. But no water came, and in the morning one of their number Mr. Fish died and was left unburied on the barren rocks. No doubt his bones could be found there to-day.

Turning west again, they had a down grade over a most barren and rocky road for many miles. The prospect from this point was any thing but cheering. To the left a large lake could be seen, and from their previous experience they concluded it to be salt, and the valley they were coming to was very sandy, and the hardest sort of footing for men and animals as weak as those of the party were. It must be crossed before there was any possibility of water, and when across it was quite uncertain whether they could obtain any. One of their number had already died of thirst and fatigue and all were suffering terribly.

The valley seemed about eight miles across, and before they were half way over Mr. Ischam, one of their party sat down, perfectly exhausted, and said he could not take another step. No one was able to assist him or give him a drink of water, and they could not tarry to see if rest would refresh him. They could only look sadly at him and pass on in silence, for he seemed fast wasting away. The thought came to everyone that perhaps it would be his turn next to sit down and see the others pass on. In fact the probability of any more of them living another day was very poor, for they all grew weaker and weaker with every hour, and no one knew how many hours must pass before they could hope for water. There was not moisture enough in their poor bodies to make tears, and no one dare open his mouth, lest all the moisture suddenly evaporate and respiration cease.

Those who had no cattle took different courses to reach the hills and mountains on the west side of this valley, hoping there to find water and signal to the others if they were successful. All except the two men managed to get across, and finding no water the packs were taken from the oxen and they were driven to the lake which appeared on the left. Reaching the lake they found the water red in color and so strong of alkali that no man or beast could take a single swallow. They drove the cattle back again with sad hearts, and almost despondent, for in the rough, dry rocks of the mountains there seemed no signs of water. But they were saved again. Those who bore farthest to the right in their course to the mountains, steering toward a pile of tremendous rocks, found a little stream of good water which flowed only a short distance and then sank into the sand. This good news spread rapidly, and all soon gathered at the little streamlet. It was slow work getting water for them all, but by being patient they were all filled up. Some took two canteens of water and hurried back to Mr. Ischam, whom they found still alive but his mouth and throat so dry and parched, and his strength so small that he was unable to swallow a single drop, and while they waited he breathed his last. With their hands and feet they dug away the sand for a shallow grave, placed the body in it, covered it with his blankets, and then scraped the sand back over again to make a little mound over their dead comrade. Perhaps if he could have walked a mile farther he might have lived, and but for the little trickling stream of water from the rocks they might all be dead, so slight were the circumstances that turned the scale to balance toward life or death.

There was so little feed for oxen that they could gain no strength, but were much refreshed by the water and could still travel. One was killed here, and the meat, poor as it was, gave the men new strength. They all guessed it to be at least fifty miles to the base of the great snow mountain before them, and what there was between no one could tell, for there were hills and valleys between. Leaving the little spring their course led first up a small cañon, and when they reached the summit of the ridge a small valley covered with sage brush was before them, the most fertile spot they had seen for a long time. The descent to this valley was through another cañon which was filled with large boulders for much of the way, and over these it seemed almost impossible to get the cattle. They had seen no water since leaving the little stream, and the plain they were now approaching seemed thirty miles wide, with no signs of streams or springs. However just at the foot of the cañon they found a small water hole, but the water was so salt that even the oxen refused to drink it.

They decided to make a push across the plain and endeavor to reach the other side in two days, and they knew there could be no water on its even expanse. The plain seemed quite an up grade from where they were to the base of the mountain.

On the second day they all reached the point they were aiming for except Rev. J.W. Brier and family, and they came in one day behind. Every one looked out for himself and had no time nor strength to spare to help others. Here on a small bench overlooking the country to the south and east but still a long distance from the snow, they found some holes of water, and some bunch grass a little farther up the hill. Here was a large trail coming from the north and leading from this point westward. There were no signs of recent use, but there were many indications that it was quite ancient and had been considerably traveled in time past. This was quite encouraging to many of them and they declared they would follow this trail which would surely lead to some place well known, in a better country. They cared not whether it led to California, Mexico, or Texas, only that they might get out of this country which seemed accursed. Any place where they could get something to eat and drink would be better than this.

Mr. and Mrs. Brier had some pretty hard struggles to get along, and everyone of this party has ever been loud in praise of the energy and determination of the brave little woman of the Brier mess. All agreed that she was by far the best man of the party. She was the one who put the packs on the oxen in the morning. She it was who took them off at night, built the fires, cooked the food, helped the children, and did all sorts of work when the father of the family was too tired, which was almost all of the time. They all said that he, like other ministers, had fallen out with any work but that of the tongue, and seemed perfectly willing for some one else to do the work. Mrs. Brier had the sympathy of everyone, and many would have helped her if they could. She waited on her big husband with untiring zeal, and still had time to care for the children with all of a mother's love. It seemed almost impossible that one little woman could do so much. It was entirely to her untiring devotion that her husband and children lived. Mr. Brier had but little sympathy or help from any one but her. Some were quite sarcastic in their remarks about the invalid preacher who never earned his bread by the sweat of his brow, and by their actions showed that they did not care very much whether he ever got through or not. They thought he ought to have asserted his manliness and taken the burden on himself, and not lean upon his delicate and trusting wife as he seemed to do. All are sure that it is to his faithful wife the Rev. J.W. Brier owed his succor from the sands of that desert.

Looking back on the scenes of that day, the way the selfish dispositions of people were made manifest is almost incredible. Every one seemed to think only of saving his own life, and every spark of human sympathy and kindness seemed extinguished. A man would drink the last cup of water even if his neighbor choked.

This camp was the same one which the Author mentions in his narrative, to which Rogers and himself crept so silently and carefully at night to ascertain whether the occupants were friends or foes. They were much pleased to find it was Capt. Doty of the Jayhawkers and his mess who had remained behind to dry the flesh of an ox they had killed when it could travel no longer. The others had gone on ahead, following the trail, leaving these to follow. They staid here two days, and it was while waiting here that the Rev. J.W. Brier came up as before related, and they all went on together when they moved.

Nearly every man had carried a gun in the early days of the expedition, hoping to kill game, and to be well armed in case of attack by Indians or enemies, but they began to find that they were useless encumbrances, and first one and then another would throw away his fire-arms as a burden too great for a weary man to bear. There was no game, and the poor weak men hardly deemed their own lives worth defending against an enemy when a day or two of lack of water would end the matter of life at any rate.

As they slept they dreamed the most tantalizing dreams of clear, rippling brooks of water; of wading knee deep in the most beautiful of ponds; of hoisting the old moss-covered bucket from some deep old well; of breaking and eating great white loaves of bread; of surrounding the home table with its load of steaming beans and bacon, fragrant coffee and delicious fried cakes. With such dreams of comfort, they awoke to realize more fully the terrors of their dry and swollen throats, the discomfort of empty stomachs. Water and food were the great riches of life to them then. Had piles of twenty-dollars pieces been on the one hand and a bucket of cold water on the other there is no doubt of the choice that would have been made.

Seven or eight miles from this place were two branches to the trail. One led into the mountains toward the snow, and the other still bore southerly. They could see that some other party who had no oxen to drive had taken the more northerly route, which seemed to lead more directly in the direction of the mines of California. Those who came later, with animals thought it would be folly to try to cross the deep snow they could see on the mountains before them and concluded that it would be safer to the south of the snow line, braving the danger of scarcity of water, rather than to perish in the snow. Capt. Doty was willing to attempt the northern branch of the trail if the others so decided, but the general feeling was in favor of the more plain and open trail which led away from the snows. It is known that this Northern branch led over what is known as Walker's Pass, coming out at the Kern River.

Taking then the southern branch, the party passed through a range of low mountains, and then the country before them seemed quite level for a hundred miles.

They expected they would find much difficulty on account of water, as their experience had taught them that it was very scarce in such locations, but this trail when they came to follow it led them for eight or ten miles over a level piece of high land that looked as if it might have slid down from the high mountain at some day long past, and this easily traveled road brought them at last to the top of a steep hill, down which they went and found near the bottom, a small weak stream of water, but no grass, and but little fuel of any kind. (This was the same camp at which Rogers and the Author overtook the advance party.) Here they killed an ox, which made a good meal for all, and not much remained over, for many had no oxen and were getting out of all sorts of provisions. They depended much on the generosity of their fellow travelers. Many of them stood back, and waited till those who owned the food were satisfied, and were very grateful when they were invited to take even the poorest morsels.

They could count the oxen and make a pretty close guess of how many days they could live in this way, even with the best probable fortune favoring them, and to the best of them there was but little hope, and to those who were dependent it seemed as if the fate of Fish and Ischam might be theirs almost any day. When the Author conversed with them at this camp he found them the first really heart-broken men he had ever seen. Some were men of middle age who had left good farms that gave them every need, and these they had left to seek a yellow phantom, and now there were yellow phantoms of a different sort rearing their dreadful forms all about them. They called themselves foolish gold hunters to forsake a land of plenty for a chance to leave their bones in a hot desert. More eyes than one filled with tears, and hopes in more than one breast vanished to almost nothing. More than one would gladly have placed himself back where he could have been assured of the poorest fare he ever saw upon his farm, for bread and water would have been an assurance of life, of which there seemed to be really but little expectation here.

When they left this camp in the cañon the trail was between two high rocks, rising like walls on each side. In one place they were so near together that an ox could hardly squeeze through. In a very short time they came to a bunch of willows growing out in the open ground. The little bunch or grove was forty or fifty feet in diameter, and in the center was a spring of water. The center of the clump had been cleared out, making a sort of corral of bushes, enclosing the spring. On the outside there was quite a little growth of grass, which was a fortunate thing for their poor beasts.