After we had set on a sand
hill and talked for awhile, we rose and shook each other by the hand,
and bade each other good bye with quivering lips. There was with me a
sort of expression I could not repel that I should never see the middle
aged men again.
As my road was now out and away from the mountains, and level, I had no
fear of being surprised by enemies, so walked on with eyes downcast,
thinking over the situation, and wondering what would be the final
outcome. If I were alone, with no one to expect me to help them, I would
be out before any other man, but with women and children in the party,
to go and leave them would be to pile everlasting infamy on my head. The
thought almost made me crazy but I thought it would be better to stay
and die with them, bravely struggling to escape than to forsake them in
their weakness.
It was almost night before I reached our camp, and sitting around our
little fire I told, in the most easy way I could the unfavorable news of
the party in advance. They seemed to look to me as a guide and adviser,
I presume because I took much pains to inform myself on every point and
my judgment was accepted with very little opposing opinion, they moved
as I thought best. During my absence from camp for the two days the
Indians had shot arrows into three of our oxen, and one still had an
arrow in his side forward of the hip which was a dangerous place. To be
sure and save him for ourselves we killed him. Some were a little afraid
to eat the meat thinking perhaps the arrow might be poisoned, but I
agreed that they wanted meat themselves and would not do that.
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