It
seemed that there was no other alternative but for us to keep along the
edge of the mountain to the south and search for another pass. Some who
had read Fremont's travels said that the range immediately west of us
must be the one he described, on the west side of which was a beautiful
country, of rich soil and having plenty of cattle, and horses, and
containing some settlers, but on the east all was barren, dry, rocky,
sandy desert as far as could be seen. We knew this eastern side answered
well the description and believed that this was really the range
described, or at least it was close by.
We had to look over the matter very carefully and consider all the
conditions and circumstances of the case. We could see the mountains
were lower to the south, but they held no snow and seemed only barren
rocks piled up in lofty peaks, and as we looked it seemed the most
God-forsaken country in the world.
We had been in the region long enough to know the higher mountains
contained most water, and that the valleys had bad water or none at all,
so that while the lower altitudes to the south gave some promise of
easier crossing it gave us no promise of water or grass, without which
we must certainly perish. In a certain sense we were lost. The clear
night and days furnished us with the mean of telling the points of
compass as the sun rose and set, but not a sign of life in nature's wide
domain had been seen for a month or more. A vest pocketful of powder and
shot would last a good hunter till he starved to death for there was not
a living thing to shoot great or small.
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