I thought of the bounteous
stock of bread and beans upon my father's table, to say nothing about
all the other good things, and here was I, the oldest son, away out in
the center of the Great American Desert, with an empty stomach and a dry
and parched throat, and clothes fast wearing out with constant wear. And
perhaps I had not yet seen the worst of it. I might be forced to see
men, and the women and children of our party, choke and die, powerless
to help them. It was a darker, gloomier day than I had ever known could
be, and alone I wept aloud, for I believed I could see the future, and
the results were bitter to contemplate. I hope no reader of this history
may ever be placed in a position to be thus tried for I am not ashamed
to say that I have a weak point to show under such circumstances. It is
not in my power to tell how much I suffered in my lonely trips, lasting
sometimes days and nights that I might give the best advice to those of
my party. I believed that I could escape at any time myself, but all
must be brought through or perish, and with this all I knew I must not
discourage the others. I could tell them the truth, but I must keep my
worst apprehensions to myself lest they loose heart and hope and faith
needlessly.
I reached the camp on the third day where I found the boys who went part
way with me and whom I had out-walked. I related to the whole camp what
I had seen, and when all was told it appeared that the route from the
mountains westerly was the only route that could be taken, they told me
of a discovery they had made of a pile of squashes probably raised upon
the place, and sufficient in number so that every person could have one.
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