ndy valley we pass again
the grave of Mr. Isham, where he had been buried by his friends. He was
from Rochester, N.Y. He was a cheerful, pleasant man, and during the
forepart of the journey used his fiddle at the evening camps to increase
the merriment of his jolly companions. In those days we got no rain, see
no living animals of any kind except those of our train, see not a bird
nor insect, see nothing green except a very stunted sage, and some dwarf
bushes. We now know that the winter of 1849-50 was one of the wettest
ever seen in California, but for some reason or other none of the wet
clouds ever came to this portion of the State to deposit the most
scattering drops of moisture.

Quite a long way from the expected camp the oxen snuffed the moisture,
and began to hurry towards it with increased speed. A little while
before it did not seem as if they had ambition enough left to make a
quick move, but as we approached the water those which had no packs
fairly trotted in their haste to get a drink. This stream was a very
small one, seeping out from a great pile of rocks, and maintaining
itself till it reached the sands, where it disappeared completely. A few
tufts of grass grew along the banks, otherwise everything surrounding
was desolate in the extreme.

As soon as we could get the harness off the oxen, we went to look for
our little buried sack of wheat, which we were compelled to leave and
hide on our way out. We had hidden it so completely, that it took us
quite a little while to strike its bed but after scratching with our
hands awhile, we hit the spot, and found it untouched. Although the sand
in which it was buried seemed quite dry, yet the grain had absorbed so
much moisture from it, that the sack was nearly bursting. It was emptied
on a blanket, and proved to be still sound and sweet.

Our first work now was to kill an ox and get some meat to cook for those
who were coming later. We got the kettle over boiling with some of the
wheat in it, for the beans were all gone. We killed the ox saving the
blood to cook. Cutting the meat all off the bones, we had it drying over
a fire as soon as possible, except what we needed for this meal and the
next. Then we made a smooth place in the soft sand on which to spread
the blankets, the first good place we had found to sleep since leaving
Death Valley.

The next job was to make moccassins for ourselves and for the oxen, for
it was plain they could not go on another da