in complete ignorance of the presence of any one but themselves in
the forest.

"Why, stranger! Where on earth did you come from? Where are you going,
and what are you here for?" asked the foremost woman of the party.

Mutual explanations followed. I learned that their teams had become
exhausted and all the wagons but one had been abandoned, and that this
one was on the road a few miles behind. They were entirely out of
provisions and had had nothing to eat for twenty hours except what
natural food they had gathered, and that was not much. They eagerly
inquired the distance to food, which I thought they might possibly reach
that night. Meanwhile I had opened my sack of hard bread and had given
each a cracker, at the eating of which the sound resembled pigs cracking
dry, hard corn.

Neither they nor I had time to parley long. The women with their
children, barefoot and ragged, bareheaded and unkempt, started down the
mountain, intent on reaching food, while I went up the road wondering
how often this scene was to be repeated as I advanced on my journey.

[Illustration: _Edward S. Curtis_

White River in the upper reaches is a roaring torrent.]

A dozen biscuits of bread is usually a very small matter, but with me it
might mean a great deal. How far should I have to go? When could I find
out? What would be the plight of my people when found? Or should I find
them at all? Might they not pass by and be on the way down the Columbia
River before I could reach the main immigrant trail? These and kindred
questions weighed on my mind as I slowly ascended the mountain.

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTE:

[8] By and by I will return.

[Illustration: The boy led his mother across the log.]

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

BLAZING THE WAY THROUGH NATCHESS PASS

THE Natchess Pass Trail, along which I must make my way, had been blazed
by a party of intrepid pioneers during the summer of 1853. Fifteen
thousand dollars had been appropriated by Congress to be expended for a
military road through the pass. I saw some of the work, but do not
remember seeing any of the men who were improving the road.

I stuck close to the old trail, making my first camp alone, just west of
the summit. I had reached an altitude where the night chill was keenly
felt, and with only my light blanket missed the friendly contact of the
faithful ox that had served me so well on the Plains. My pony had
nothing but browse for supper, and he was restless. Ne