The good home I left behind was a favorite theme
about the campfire, and many a one told of the dream pictures, natural
as life, that came to him of the happy Eastern home with comfort and
happiness surrounding it, even if wealth was lacking. The home of the
poorest man on earth was preferable to this place. Wealth was of no
value here. A hoard of twenty dollar gold pieces could now
stand before us the whole day long with no temptation to touch a single
coin, for its very weight would drag us nearer death. We could purchase
nothing with it and we would have cared no more for it as a thing of
value than we did the desert sands. We would have given much more for
some of the snow which we could see drifting over the peak of the great
snow mountains over our heads like a dusty cloud.
Deeming it best to spare the strength as much as possible, I threw away
everything I could, retaining only my glass, some ammunition, sheath
knife and tin cup. No unnecessary burden could be put on any man or
beast, lest he lie down under it, never to rise again. Life and strength
were sought to be husbanded in every possible way.
Leaving this camp where the water was appreciated we went over a road
for perhaps 8 miles and came to the mouth of a rocky canon leading up
west to the summit of the range. This canon was too rough for wagons to
pass over. Out in the valley near its mouth was a mound about four feet
high and in the top of this a little well that held about a pailful of
water that was quite strong of sulphur.
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