end to eat and soon he revived and was able to
move on again. That was true friendship.

The next night Stevens himself awoke and seemed perishing with thirst.
He crawled over to Doty's bed and begged for just one sup of water, Doty
in the goodness of his heart, took his canteen from under his head
divided the last few drops with him and the death which threatened him
was held off. Capt. Doty found it necessary to talk very seriously to
those who mourned and talked of failing. He never gave up in the least.
He encouraged all to make every step they could and know no such word as
fail. When they said that death would be easier than life, he told them
so, but that life was possible if they only willed it, and a better life
than had been theirs. And so he kept them encouraged and kept them
putting one foot before the other, pointing out the ever lessening
distance to the mountain before them. He appealed to their manhood. "Be
men," said he, "Be brave and courageous, and you have more strength than
you believe." Thus by example and words he proved to be a true captain
to his little band.

Their water was all gone, every drop, and still the foot-hills seemed
far away. The supply of meat ran out. Tom Shannon killed an ox, and when
those who had cattle had taken some, the others who had none were told
to divide the rest. There was no water to dress or cook it, but it
helped to sustain life. Entrails, bones, sinews, bits of hide and
everything was used. One man was seen with an ox horn, burning the end
in the fire and gnawing away at the softened portion. It was something
terrible to see human beings eating what the dogs would cast aside. One
man saw some moist looking earth on the shady side of a bunch of brush
and he dug down and got a handful of it, from which he tried to suck the
moisture. He failed, and the bad taste of the earth made him suffer more
than before. Many bones of horses and cattle now appeared along the
trail. They seemed to have been there a long time, and some were partly
decayed. On this waterless stretch one of their number, a Frenchman,
wandered off, searching for water in little hollows or puddles, and
never came back to camp. He was supposed to be dead, but ten years
afterward some surveyors found him in a Digger Indian camp.

An idea how selfish men will get under such circumstances may be gained
by relating that on one occasion when an ox was killed the liver was
carried to the brave little Mrs. Br