Near us was some coarse grass and wet ground where we found water enough
for our moderate use, and the oxen, by perseverance, could get something
to eat and drink. After supper we were out of meat and we would have to
kill an ox to get some food for breakfast. In the night a storm came on,
much to our surprise, for we had seen none since the night on the
mountain east of Death Valley more than two months before. We tried to
fix up a shelter to protect the children and ourselves, but were not
very successful. We tried to use our guns for tent poles, but could not
keep them in place. We laid down as close as pigs in cold weather, and
covered up as best we could, but did not keep dry, and morning found us
wet to the skin, cold and shivering. We gathered big sage brush for a
fire in the morning, and the tracks of our nearly bare feet could be
plainly seen in the snow which lay like a blanket awhile over the
ground, about two inches deep. Some lay in bed and we warmed blankets
before the fire and put over them to keep them comfortable till the sun
should rise and warm the air. We selected an ox and brought him up
before the fire where I shot him, and soon there was meat roasting over
the fire and blood cooking in the camp kettle. We had nothing to season
the blood pudding with but salt, and it was not very good, but answered
to sustain life. We ate a hasty meal, then packed our animals and
started for the willow patch about four miles away. The snow was about
gone.
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