And so he kept them encouraged and kept them
putting one foot before the other, pointing out the ever lessening
distance to the mountain before them. He appealed to their manhood. "Be
men," said he, "Be brave and courageous, and you have more strength than
you believe." Thus by example and words he proved to be a true captain
to his little band.
Their water was all gone, every drop, and still the foot-hills seemed
far away. The supply of meat ran out. Tom Shannon killed an ox, and when
those who had cattle had taken some, the others who had none were told
to divide the rest. There was no water to dress or cook it, but it
helped to sustain life. Entrails, bones, sinews, bits of hide and
everything was used. One man was seen with an ox horn, burning the end
in the fire and gnawing away at the softened portion. It was something
terrible to see human beings eating what the dogs would cast aside. One
man saw some moist looking earth on the shady side of a bunch of brush
and he dug down and got a handful of it, from which he tried to suck the
moisture. He failed, and the bad taste of the earth made him suffer more
than before. Many bones of horses and cattle now appeared along the
trail. They seemed to have been there a long time, and some were partly
decayed. On this waterless stretch one of their number, a Frenchman,
wandered off, searching for water in little hollows or puddles, and
never came back to camp. He was supposed to be dead, but ten years
afterward some surveyors found him in a Digger Indian camp.
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