It seemed quite like a grim joke, but it produced a reaction
that turned the tide of thoughts and brought more courage. We only laid
out the march for this day as far as the falls and after a little
prepared to move. The cattle seemed to have quit their foolishness, and
they were loaded without trouble. The children fitted into the pockets
better than usual, and the mothers with full canteens strapped across
their shoulders picked out soft places on which to place their poor
blistered feet at every step. They walked as if they were troubled with
corns on every toe and on their heels into the bargain, and each foot
was so badly affected, that they did not know on which one to limp. But
still they moved, and we were once more on our way westward. They often
stopped to rest, and Arcane waited for them with Old Crump, while they
breathed and complained awhile and then passed on again.
[Illustration: The Oxen Get Frisky.]
The route was first along the foot of the high peak, over bare rocks and
we soon turned south somewhat so as to enter the canon leading down to
the falls. The bottom of this was thick with broken rock, and the oxen
limped and picked out soft places about as bad as the women did. A pair
of moccasins would not last long in such rocks and we hoped to get out
of them very soon. Rogers and I hurried along, assisting Arcane and his
party as much as we could, while Bennett staid behind and assisted the
women as much as possible, taking their arms, and by this means they
also reached camp an hour behind the rest.
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