Our camp having been thus depleted by death, Noah James, who had been one of my father’s drivers, from Springfield until we passed out of the desert, now cast his lot again with ours, and helped John Baptiste to dig for the carcasses of the cattle.  It was weary work, for the snow was higher than the level of the guide marks, and at times they searched day after day and found no trace of hoof or horn.  The little field mice that had crept into camp were caught then and used to ease the pangs of hunger.  Also pieces of beef hide were cut into strips, singed, scraped, boiled to the consistency of glue, and swallowed with an effort; for no degree of hunger could make the saltless, sticky substance palatable.  Marrowless bones which had already been boiled and scraped, were now burned and eaten, even the bark and twigs of pine were chewed in the vain effort to soothe the gnawings which made one cry for bread and meat.

During the bitterest weather we little ones were kept in bed, and my place was always in the middle where Frances and Georgia, snuggling up close, gave me of their warmth, and from them I learned many things which I could neither have understood nor remembered had they not made them plain.

[Illustration:  PASS IN THE SIERRA NEVADAS OF CALIFORNIA]

[Illustration:  From an old drawing made from description furnished by Wm. G. Murphy.  CAMP AT DONNER LAKE, NOVEMBER, 1846]

Just one happy play is impressed upon my mind.  It must have been after the first storm, for the snow bank in front of the cabin door was not high enough to keep out a little sunbeam that stole down the steps and made a bright spot upon our floor.  I saw it, and sat down under it, held it on my lap, passed my hand up and down in its brightness, and found that I could break its ray in two.  In fact, we had quite a frolic.  I fancied that it moved when I did, for it warmed the top of my head, kissed first one cheek and then the other, and seemed to run up and down my arm.  Finally I gathered up a piece of it in my apron and ran to my mother.  Great was my surprise when I carefully opened the folds and found that I had nothing to show, and the sunbeam I had left seemed shorter.  After mother explained its nature, I watched it creep back slowly up the steps and disappear.

Snowy Christmas brought us no “glad tidings,” and New Year’s Day no happiness.  Yet, each bright day that followed a storm was one of thanksgiving, on which we all crept up the flight of snow steps and huddled about on the surface in the blessed sunshine, but with our eyes closed against its painful and blinding glare.

Once my mother took me to a hole where I saw smoke coming up, and she told me that its steps led down to Uncle Jacob’s tent, and that we would go down there to see Aunt Betsy and my little cousins.