“One or two parties who were with these carts gave up entirely, and but for the fact that we overtook one of our ox-teams that had been detained on the road, they must have perished on the Rocky Ridge.  One old man named James, a farmer from Gloucestershire, who had a large family, and who had worked very hard all the way, I found sitting by the roadside unable to pull his cart any farther.  I could not get him into the wagon, as it was already overcrowded.  He had a shotgun, which he had brought from England, and which had been a great blessing to him and his family, for he was a good shot, and often had a mess of sage-hens or rabbits for his family.  I took the gun from his cart, put a bundle on the end of it, placed it on his shoulder, and started him out with his little boy, twelve years old.  His wife and two daughters, older than the boy, took the cart along finely after reaching the summit.

“We travelled along with the ox-team and overtook others, all so laden with the sick and helpless that they moved very slowly.  The oxen had almost given out.  Some of our folks with carts went ahead of the team, for where the roads were good they could out-travel oxen; but we constantly overtook stragglers, some with carts, some without, who had been unable to keep pace with the body of the company.  We struggled along in this weary way until after dark, and by this time our rear numbered three wagons, eight hand-carts, and nearly forty persons.

“With the wagons were Millen Atwood, Levi Savage, and William Woodward, captains of hundreds, faithful men who had worked all the way.  We finally came to a stream of water which was frozen over.  We could not see where the company had crossed.  If at the point where we struck the creek, then it had frozen over since they passed it.  We started one team across, but the oxen broke through the ice, and would not go over.  No amount of shouting and whipping could induce them to stir an inch.  We were afraid to try the other teams, for even could they cross, we could not leave the one in the creek and go on.

“There was no wood in the vicinity, so we could make no fire, and we were uncertain what to do.  We did not know the distance to the camp, but supposed it to be three or four miles.  After consulting about it, we resolved that some one should go on foot to the camp to inform the captain of our situation.  I was selected to perform the duty, and I set out with all speed.  In crossing the creek I slipped through the ice and got my feet wet, my boots being nearly worn out.  I had not gone far when I saw some one sitting by the roadside.  I stopped to see who it was, and discovered the old man, James, and his little boy.  The poor old man was quite worn out.

“I got him to his feet and had him lean on me, and he walked a little distance, but not very far.  I partly dragged, partly carried, him a short distance farther, but he was quite helpless, and my strength failed me.  Being obliged to leave him to go forward on my own errand, I put down a quilt I had wrapped around me, rolled him in it, and told the little boy to walk up and down by his father, and on no account to sit down, or he would be frozen to death.  He asked me very bravely why God or Brigham Young had not sent us some food or blankets.