Both men and oxen were shod with
moccasins made of raw-hide to protect the feet against sharp rocks. They
could see no trail but merely picked out the best way to go. While
climbing the steep mountain side they came across a dead ox left by some
party that had gone before them. They cut out the tongue and some of the
best meat and ate it to eke out their own small stock, and carried some
pieces with them, but soon threw it all away but enough for a roast for
supper.
When it was getting dark they were almost at the summit, but there was
no good camping place, and they saw a small fire light at a little
distance and went to it, finding a poor lone camper taking care of
himself. They camped here also. It seemed as if there were many men from
the various parties scattered all around the country, each one seeking
out the path which seemed to suit best his tender feet or present fancy,
steering west as well as mountains and canon would permit, some farther
north, some farther south and generally demoralized, each thinking that
as a last resort he would be able to save his own life. It seemed to be
a question of will and endurance, strong hearts and keeping the body in
motion. The weak and faint must fail, and the strong said to the
weak;--"Stand up; be a man; don't fall down;" and so the strong spurred
on the weak and kept them up as best they could.
Down the mountain they went, on the west side and instead of Los
Angeles, which some of them expected to see, they saw only a salt lake
in the midst of a barren desert valley and their route lay directly
across it.
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