When our morning meal of soup and meat
was finished, Bennett's two teams, and the two of Arcane's concluded
their chances of life were better if they could take some provisions and
strike out on foot, and so they were given what they could carry, and
they arranged their packs and bade us a sorrowful good bye hoping to
meet again on the Pacific Coast. There were genuine tears shed at the
parting and I believe neither party ever expected to see each other in
this life again.
Bennett's two men were named Silas Helmer and S.S. or C.C. Abbott, but I
have forgotten the names of Arcane's men. Mr. Abbott was from New York,
a harness maker by trade, and he took his circular cutting knife with
him, saying it was light to carry and the weapon he should need. One of
them had a gun. They took the trail taken by the Jayhawkers. All the
provisions they could carry besides their blankets could not last them
to exceed 10 days, and I well knew they could hardly get off the desert
in that time. Mr. Abbott was a man I loved fondly. He was good company
in camp, and happy and sociable. He had shown no despondency at any time
until the night of the last meeting and the morning of the parting. His
chances seemed to me to be much poorer than my own, but I hardly think
he realized it. When in bed I could not keep my thoughts back from the
old home I had left, where good water and a bountiful spread were always
ready at the proper hour. I know I dreamed of taking a draft of cool,
sweet water from a full pitcher and then woke up with my mouth and
throat as dry as dust.
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