d not think much about it myself until
I made my camp the first night. After I had staked out my horses and
built a fire, I began to realize what a dreadful state the lost men must
be in, for if I was so hungry, who had eaten a good meal at noon, what
must they be suffering who had had nothing to eat in five days? The
thoughts of the suffering men whom I hoped to rescue from death kept me
awake most of the night, and I fully decided that this was the last time
I would try to sleep until I knew whether they were living or dead. I
was up with the dawn the next morning, and on the way, and I thought if
I did not meet with any bad luck to detain me I would be in the vicinity
of the men I sought by night.

From this time out I knew I must be very careful to look for signs of
the lost men, as hunger might drive them to leave the place where their
comrade had directed me to look for them. When I was a little west
of where the city of Waltzingburge now stands, and the darkness was
beginning to close down, I saw the glimmer of a little fire off to the
right, at what looked about a half mile from me. I thought it might be
an Indian camp and directed my course that way, but when I was within
sight of it and was within a hundred yards or so of the fire, I could
not see a soul stirring around it, but I kept on up to the fire, and
suddenly my horse came near stepping on a man who lay on the ground with
bare feet and nothing under or over him. I sprang from my horse and bent
over him and spoke to him, but he did not answer or move. I then took
hold of his shoulder and shook him gently, and he seemed to rouse up a
little. I said, "What are you laying here for?" and he murmured in a
voice so weak I had to bend my ear close to him to hear, "I have laid
down to die."'

I pulled the flask of whiskey from my pocket and raised him on my arm
and wet his lips with a few drops of the whiskey. I repeated this
several times, as he seemed to have relapsed into unconsciousness, and
I was afraid I was too late to save him or bring him back to
consciousness.

I laid him down and built the fire anew and unpacked my horse and got my
blankets and made a pallet and lifted him on it. Lifting him seemed to
revive him, and the firelight showed me that he had opened his eyes, and
he put his hand on his stomach and whispered, "Oh, how hungry I am."

I gave him a small sup of whiskey, and, taking a piece of buffalo meat
from my pack, I soon had it broiled,