Immediately after the departure of Messrs. Reed and Herron, our wagons moved onward.  Night overtook us at a gruesome place where wood and feed were scarce and every drop of water was browned by alkali.  There, hungry wolves howled, and there we found and buried the bleaching bones of Mr. Salle, a member of the Hastings train, who had been shot by Indians.  After his companions had left his grave, the savages had returned, dug up the body, robbed it of its clothing, and left it to the wolves.

At four o’clock the following morning, October 10, the rest of the company, having travelled all night, drove into camp.  Many were in a state of great excitement, and some almost frenzied by the physical and mental suffering they had endured.  Accounts of the Reed-Snyder tragedy differed somewhat from that we had already heard.  The majority held that the assembly had been lenient with Mr. Reed and considerate for his family; that the action taken had been largely influenced by rules which Messrs. Reed, Donner, Thornton, and others had suggested for the government of Colonel Russell’s train, and that there was no occasion for criticism, since the sentence was for the transgression, and not for the individual.

The loss of aged Mr. Hardcoop, whose fate was sealed soon after the death of John Synder, was the subject of bitter contention.  The old man was travelling with the Keseberg family, and, in the heavy sand, when that family walked to lighten the load, he was required to do likewise.  The first night after leaving Gravelly Ford, he did not come into camp with the rest.  The company, fearing something amiss, sent a man on horseback to bring him in.  He was found five miles from camp, completely exhausted and his feet in a terrible condition.

The following morning, he again started with Keseberg, and when the section had been under way only a short time, the old man approached Mr. Eddy and begged for a place in some other wagon, saying he was sick and exhausted, and that Keseberg had put him out to die.  The road was still through deep, loose sand, and Mr. Eddy told him if he would only manage to go forward until the road should be easier on the oxen, he himself would take him in.  Hardcoop promised to try, yet the roads became so heavy that progress was yet slower and even the small children were forced to walk, nor did any one see when Mr. Hardcoop dropped behind.

Mr. Eddy had the first watch that night, and kept a bright fire burning on the hillside in hopes that it would guide the belated into camp.  Milton Elliot went on guard at midnight, and kept the fire till morning, yet neither sign nor sound of the missing came over that desolate trail.