For some time all of us had seen in the range ahead an appearance of a
pass, or lower place in the mountain, and we had got to calling it
Martin's Pass, naming it after Jim Martin. There was a snow-capped peak
just to the south of it and the pass, now apparently exactly west of the
lake camp, seemed to the Jayhawkers easy to reach. Their wills were
strong enough and they were running over with determination and energy
enough to carry them over any plain, no matter how dry or barren, or
over any mountain no matter how rugged and steep.
Five days they traveled, without finding water, and small supply they
took along had been consumed. For lack of water they could not eat or
sleep. The oxen gathered round the little fire and seemed to beg for
water, they had no cud to chew unless it was the cud of disappointment.
The range of mountains they had been aiming for still seemed far away
and the possible show for reaching it seemed very poor indeed, and the
prospect of any water hole between them and the mountains poorer yet.
Hope was pretty near gone. Martins mess unyoked their oxen from the
wagons, put some small packs on their own backs, and loaded some upon
the backs of the oxen, and turned south toward the nearest snowy
mountain they could see, the same one towards which the Bennett party
steered from the lake camp.
The Doty party kept their courage longer and kept on straight ahead for
another day, and then camped, almost without hope. No rest came to them,
nor sleep.
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