thers had gone on ahead, following the trail,
leaving these to follow. They staid here two days, and it was while
waiting here that the Rev. J.W. Brier came up as before related, and
they all went on together when they moved.

Nearly every man had carried a gun in the early days of the expedition,
hoping to kill game, and to be well armed in case of attack by Indians
or enemies, but they began to find that they were useless encumbrances,
and first one and then another would throw away his fire-arms as a
burden too great for a weary man to bear. There was no game, and the
poor weak men hardly deemed their own lives worth defending against an
enemy when a day or two of lack of water would end the matter of life at
any rate.

As they slept they dreamed the most tantalizing dreams of clear,
rippling brooks of water; of wading knee deep in the most beautiful of
ponds; of hoisting the old moss-covered bucket from some deep old well;
of breaking and eating great white loaves of bread; of surrounding the
home table with its load of steaming beans and bacon, fragrant coffee
and delicious fried cakes. With such dreams of comfort, they awoke to
realize more fully the terrors of their dry and swollen throats, the
discomfort of empty stomachs. Water and food were the great riches of
life to them then. Had piles of twenty-dollars pieces been on the one
hand and a bucket of cold water on the other there is no doubt of the
choice that would have been made.

Seven or eight miles from this place were two branches to the trail. One
led into the mountains toward the snow, and the other still bore
southerly. They could see that some other party who had no oxen to drive
had taken the more northerly route, which seemed to lead more directly
in the direction of the mines of California. Those who came later, with
animals thought it would be folly to try to cross the deep snow they
could see on the mountains before them and concluded that it would be
safer to the south of the snow line, braving the danger of scarcity of
water, rather than to perish in the snow. Capt. Doty was willing to
attempt the northern branch of the trail if the others so decided, but
the general feeling was in favor of the more plain and open trail which
led away from the snows. It is known that this Northern branch led over
what is known as Walker's Pass, coming out at the Kern River.

Taking then the southern branch, the party passed through a range of low
mountains,