This camp is
now known to be in the northern part of Death Valley, but then they knew
no names for anything, but if dreariness and absence of life, and
threatened danger all around were any indication, they might well have
named it Death Valley as was afterwards done by the party with whom the
Author traveled.
The party had been brave till now, but when they realized that they must
make pack animals of themselves, and trudge on, they knew not where,
perhaps to only a lingering death, the keen edge of disappointment cut
close, and they realized how desolate they were. They felt much inclined
to attribute all their troubles to the advice of the Mormons. Some said
that the plan was thus to wipe so many more hated Gentiles out of the
way, and wishes were deep and loud that the Mormons might all be buried
out of sight in the Great Salt Lake. They thought Lot's wife must have
been turned to salt in the neighborhood, everything was so impregnated
with saline substances, and the same result might come to them. But the
inherent manhood of the little band came to their relief and they
determined not to die without a struggle for escape and life.
They killed some of their oxen, and took the wood of their wagons and
kindled fires to dry and smoke the flesh so it would be light and easy
to carry with them. They scattered all surplus baggage around the
ground, carefully storing and saving the bit of bread that yet remained
and dividing it equally among the party.
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