I said we only ate a little at first: I only ate a little for two
reason; first, I did not relish the food; second, I had heard of persons
being killed by eating too much after fasting for a long time, and I had
no desire to commit suicide just then. Field ate too much. Night came
on, work was suspended, and we retired. The poor old lone, and, no
doubt, now lonely, mule, having filled himself with grass, came up near
the now terribly-mutilated remains of his late companion, and looked on
as Field continued his bloody work. Field, with an expression of sorrow,
said, "If that mule could reason and look forward to the time when his
body might be in a like condition as that of this horse, he would, no
doubt, take to his heels, bid us a final farewell, and seek other
society." But, fortunately for us, he did not know that he was to be
held in reserve for our future security. He was securely tied up every
night from that time until the day he was slain for our salvation.
Early in the night following that eventful day, my companion began to
complain much as he had done on the night after he had eaten the little
red berries; but there was no lack of water now, no need of a special
rain-cloud. I got up, heated water in our little camp kettle, applied
hot cloths to his aching belly, and did everything else that either of
us could think of for his relief. The pain was intense, and we feared
that he would surely die, and earnestly prayed all the rest of the night
that he might be relieved, and get well.
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