We then went more nearly south to find the Mojave River, for we hoped to
find water there. It was very scarce with us then, We had one pretty
cold day, but generally fine weather, and to get along we traveled at
night and a party struck the Mojave. Here there was some grass, and the
mustard was beginning to start up and some elder bushes to put forth
leaves. I picked some of the mustard and chewed it to try to get back my
natural taste. Here the party divided, a part going to the left to San
Bernardino and the remainder to the right to Cucamunga. I was with the
latter party and we got there before night.
Rhynierson said to one of the party--'Charlie, you had better hurry on
ahead and try to get some meat before the crowd comes up.' Charlie went
on ahead and we drove along at the regular gait which was not very fast
about these times. We saw nothing of Charlie and so I went to the house
to look for him and found him dead drunk on wine. He had not said a word
to them about provisions. That wine wrecked us all. All had a little
touch of scurvy, and it seemed to be just what we craved. I bought a big
tumbler of it for two bits and carried it to my wife. She lasted it at
first rather gingerly, then took a little larger sup of it, and then put
it to her lips and never slopped drinking till the last drop was gone. I
looked a little bit surprised and she looked at me and innocently
asked--'Why! Haven't you had any?' I was afraid she would be the next
one to be dead drunk, but it never affected her in that way at all.
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