The hills on the south side had on them some oak trees and grassy spots,
but the north side was thickly covered with brush. Our beautiful little
brook that had kept us company soon sank into the dry sand out of sight,
and we moved rather slowly along every little while we spoke of the
chances of wagons ever getting through the road we had come, and the
hope that my lameness might not continue to retard our progress in
getting back to the place of our starting, that the poor waiting people
might begin to get out of the terrible country they were in and enjoy as
we had done, the beautiful running stream of this side of the mountain.
If I did not get better the chances were that they would perish, for
they never could come through alone, as the distance had proved much
greater than we had anticipated, and long dry stretches of the desert
were more than they would be prepared for. As it was we feared greatly
that we had consumed so much time they would get impatient and start out
and be lost.
I continued to hobble along down the barren valley as well as I could
and here and there some tracks of animals were discovered, but we could
not make out whether they were those of domestic cattle or elk. Soon, on
the side of a hill, rather high up a pack of prairie wolves were
snarling around the carcass of some dead animal, and this was regarded
as another sign that more and better meat could be found, for these
animals only live where some sort of game can be found, and they knew
better than we that it was not for their health to go into the barren
desert.
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