y. About two miles below our camp are some
falls in the river, at which point the meadows terminate. There is no
more grass from here until we reach Carson River, about 66 miles.--Some
of the teams that left us above Fort Kearney came in to-day, entirely
destitute of provisions, and had been so for some days, although they
had contrived to starve along somehow. We heard of them before they got
here, and saved a little beef for them.

4th. Sunday. Broke up camp and started again. We had stopped three days
to recruit our horses before taking the desert, and although we have
taken the utmost pains with them, they are weaker now than when we
stopped. My advice to all is not to make any stop at this point, but
push on to Carson River, for there is so much alkali in the water and
grass here that your stock will not recruit. There is no water for the
next 20 miles fit for stock to drink. We lost one horse to-day from
watering beside the road, four miles before we got to the sink. He died
in thirty minutes after drinking, in the greatest agony. Two others
were much injured, so much so, that we could only get them to the sink
with the greatest difficulty. Trimble and Sublet also lost one. Beware
of shallow water along here.

20 miles.

5th. Reached the Sink last night about sunset. This is a basin about 80
rods wide and half a mile long. It is usually the last water found on
the Humboldt, or where it loses itself in the sand, hence its name, but
this year the water is so high that it runs down several miles further
before it entirely sinks. There is no grass here whatever, nothing but
desert. We broke up our wagon to-day and made pack saddles, being
convinced of the impossibility of getting our wagon across the desert,
since the loss of the horse yesterday and the injury to the others.
Last night while we were making our supper on coffee and boiled corn,
soon after dark, a man came to us and asked for a drink of water. I
gave it to him; after drinking he stood looking wistfully at our corn,
then asked me if I would take half a dollar for a pint cup full of it.
I told him I would not take half a dollar for it, for money was no
consideration for food here. He said no more, but turned sorrowfully
away, when I stopped him and asked him if he was in distress. He said
that he had eaten nothing for two days but a small piece of dried meat
which a man gave him. I then told him that I would not take a half
dollar for the corn, but t