d were unable to
stand the fatigue of the journey. Already they exhibited signs of great
weakness and weariness, and it was not safe to allow them to proceed.
Mr. Aquila Glover informed Mrs. Reed that it was necessary that these
two children go back. Who can portray the emotions of this fond mother?
What power of language can indicate the struggle which took place in the
minds of this stricken family? Mr. Glover promised to return as soon as
he arrived at Bear Valley, and himself bring Patty and Thomas over the
mountains. This promise, however, was but a slight consolation for the
agonized mother or weeping children, until finally a hopeful thought
occurred to Mrs. Reed. She turned suddenly to Mr. Glover, and asked,
"Are you a Mason?" He replied, "I am." "Do you promise me," she said,
"upon the word of a Mason, that when you arrive at Bear Valley, you will
come back and get my children?" Mr. Glover made the promise, and
the children were by him taken back to the cabins. The mother had
remembered, in this gloomiest moment of life, that the father of her
little ones was a Mason, and that he deeply reverenced the order. If her
children must be left behind in the terrible snows, she would trust the
promise of this Mason to return and save them. It was a beautiful trust
in a secret order by a Mason's wife in deep distress.

Rebecca E. App, writing for her mother, gives a vivid description of
this journey across the summits, from which is taken the following brief
extract:

"It was a bright Sunday morning when we left the cabins. Some were in
good health, while others were so poor and emaciated that they could
scarcely walk. I was one of the weakest in the party, and not one in the
train thought I would get to the top of the first hill. We were a sad
spectacle to look upon as we left the cabins. We marched along in single
file, the leader wearing snow-shoes, and the others following after, all
stepping in the leader's tracks. I think my sister and myself were about
the rear of the train, as the strongest were put in front. My sister
Elitha and I were alone with strangers, as it were, having neither
father, mother, nor brothers, to give us a helping hand or a word of
courage to cheer us onward. We were placed on short allowance of food
from the start, and each day this allowance was cut shorter and shorter,
until we received each for our evening and morning meal two small pieces
of jerked beef, about the size of the index fin