I felt
pretty well when I got up, and a chunk of my last night's prize which
had been toasted for me was eaten with a relish, for it was the best of
meat and I, of course, had a first class appetite. I had to tell them my
last hunting story, and was much praised as a lucky boy.
We would not be compelled to kill any more of our poor oxen in order to
live. So far we had killed six of them, and there were five left. Our
present situation was much appreciated, compared with that of a few days
ago when we were crawling slowly over the desert, hungry, sore-footed
and dry, when to lie was far easier than to take steps forward. We felt
like rejoicing at our deliverance and there was no mourning now for us.
The surrounding hills and higher mountains seemed more beautiful to us.
They were covered with green trees and brush, not a desert place in
sight. The clear little singing brook ran merrily on its way, the
happiest, brightest stream in all my memory. Wild birds came near us
without fear, and seemed very friendly. All was calm, and the bright
sunshine exactly warm enough so that no one could complain of heat or
cold.
When ready to move it was announced that I had lost my saddle blanket in
my adventure, so they substituted another one and I took the back track
to the place where the mule slipped down the bank, and there I found it.
I soon overtook them again just as they were going to camp on Mrs.
Bennett's account, as she had been suddenly taken sick with severe pain
and vomiting, something as Rogers and I had been after eating our first
California corn meal.
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