More than one would thus have
perished in the sands but for the little canteen of water carried back
by some friend. Only a swallow or two would often revive their failing
strength and courage, and with slow step they would move on again. How
much good a crust of bread would have done such a poor creature. Bread
there was none--nothing but the flesh of their poor oxen, wasted and
consumed by days of travel and lack of food till it had no goodness in
it. Even the poor oxen, every night seemed to be the end of their
walking; every morning it was feared that that would be the last time
they would be able to rise upon their feet.
Already five or six days had passed since they left the camp at the
willows where they had their last supply of water, and still they were
on the desert. The journey was longer than they had expected, partly
owing to the slow progress they had made for there were frequent stops
to rest or they could not move at all. The mountains seemed nearer every
day, and the trees were outlined more plainly each morning as they
started out. Capt. Doty used every circumstance to encourage them. He
would remark upon the favorable signs of water in the hills before them,
and the hope that there might be some game to provide better meat than
that of starving oxen. Thus he renewed their hope and kept alive their
courage. He must have had a great deal of fortitude to hide his own sad
feelings, for they must as surely have come to him as to any one, and to
keep up always an air of hope, courage, and determination to succeed.
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