Not a spear of grass grew there, and if any had
grown it had been eaten by the cattle which had gone before. This was
the same place, where Rogers and I had overtaken the advance portion of
the Jayhawkers when we were on our outward trip in search of relief, and
where some of the older men were so discouraged that they gave us their
home addresses in Illinois so that we could notify their friends of
their precarious situation, and if they were never otherwise heard from
they could be pretty sure they had perished from thirst and starvation
when almost at their journey's end.
The scenes of this camp on that occasion made so strong an impression on
my memory that I can never forget it. There were poor dependent fellows
without a morsel to eat except such bits of poor meat as they could beg
from those who were fortunate enough to own oxen. Their tearful
pleadings would soften a heart of stone. We shared with some of them
even when we did not know the little store upon our backs would last us
through. Our oxen here had water to drink, but nothing more. It might be
a little more comfortable to drink and starve, than both choke and
starve, but these are no very pleasant prospects in either one.
Both ourselves and the oxen were getting barefoot and our feet very
tender. The hill we had just come down was very rough and rocky and our
progress very slow, every step made in a selected spot. We could not
stop here to kill an ox and let the remainder of them starve, but must
push on to where the living ones could get a little food.
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