Not knowing how far it was to water, nor how soon some of our
other horses might fall, we did not tarry, but pushed on as well as we
could, finding no water. We reached the summit and turned down a ravine,
following the trail, and about dark came to the water they had told us
about, a faint running stream which came out of a rocky ravine and sank
almost immediately in the dry sand. There was water enough for us, but
no grass. It seemed as if the horses were not strong enough to carry a
load, and as we wanted to get them through if possible, we concluded to
bury the wheat and get it on our return. We dug a hole and lined it
with fine sticks, then put in the little bag and covered it with dry
brush, and sand making the surface as smooth as if it had never been
touched, then made our bed on it. The whole work was done after dark so
the deposit could not be seen by the red men and we thought we had done
it pretty carefully.
Next morning the little mule carried all the remaining load, the horses
bearing only their saddles, and seemed hardly strong enough for that.
There was now seven or eight miles of clean loose sand to go over,
across a little valley which came to an end about ten miles north of us,
and extended south to the lake where we went for water on our outward
journey and found it red alkali. Near the Eastern edge of the valley we
turned aside to visit the grave of Mr. Isham, which they had told us of.
They had covered his remains with their hands as best they could, piling
up a little mound of sand over it.
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