out from there
by steamer to San Francisco, then to the Isthmus, then to New York.
After that, by rail as far west as there was a railroad, then on foot to
Eddyville, Iowa, where the start was again to be made. It would take
Oliver two months to reach Eddyville, and then at least seven more to
lead the newcomers over the trail from Iowa to Puget Sound.

Oliver was soon speeding on his way, and again my wife and I were left
without money and with but a scant supply of provisions. How we made out
through the winter I can hardly remember, but we managed somehow and
kept well and happy. Soon after Oliver's departure our second baby was
born.

In the latter part of August, 1854, eight months after Oliver had left
us, James K. Hurd, of Olympia, sent me word that he had been out on the
immigrant trail and had heard that some of my relatives were on the
road, but that they were belated and short of provisions. He advised me
to go to their assistance, to make sure of their coming directly over
the Cascade Mountains, and not down the Columbia River.

How my people, with Oliver's experience to guide them, should be in the
condition described, was past my comprehension. However, I accepted the
statement as true. I felt the particular importance of their having
certain knowledge as to prevailing conditions of an over-mountain trip
through the Natchess Pass. The immigrants of the previous year had
encountered formidable difficulties in the mountains, narrowly escaping
the loss of everything, if not facing actual starvation. I could not
help feeling that possibly the same conditions still prevailed. The only
way to determine the question was to go and see for myself, to meet my
father's party and pilot them through the pass.

[Illustration: We struck awkward but rapid and heavy strokes.]

But how could I go and leave wife and two babies on our island home?
The summer had been spent in clearing land and planting crops, and my
money was very low. To remove my family would cost something in cash,
besides the abandonment of the season's work to almost certain
destruction. Without a moment's hesitation my wife said to go; she and
Mrs. Darrow, who was with us as nurse and companion, would stay right
where they were until I got back.

I was not so confident of the outcome as she. At best the trip was
hazardous, even when undertaken well-prepared and with company. As far
as I could see, I might have to go on foot and pack my food and b