Rogers and I had the kettle boiling early, and put in the last of the meat, and nearly all that was left of the flour.  At the next camp an ox must be killed.  Just as it was fairly light I went about 200 yards south where the dead body of Mr. Fish lay, just as he died more than a month before.  The body had not been disturbed and looked quite natural.  He was from Oscaloosa, Iowa.

The folks arose very reluctantly this morning, and appeared with swollen eyes and uncombed hair, for there was no means of making a toilet, without a drop of water, except what we had used in getting breakfast.  We set the soup kettle near the foot of the bed so the women could feed the children and themselves.  Now as we loaded the oxen, it was agreed that Rogers and I should go ahead with all but Old Crump, and get in camp as soon as possible, and they were to follow on as best they could.  There was a little water left in the canteens of Bennett and Arcane, to be given only to the children, who would cry when thirsty, the very thing to make them feel the worst.

We were to kill an ox when we reached camp, and as each of the men had an equal number on the start each was to furnish one alternately and no disputing about whose were better or stronger, in any emergency.

Our road now led down the western slope of the mountain, and loose, hard, broken rocks were harder on the feet of our animals than coming up, and our own moccasins were wearing through.  The cattle needed shoes as well as we.  Any one who has never tried it can imagine how hard it is to walk with tender feet over broken rock.  It was very slow getting along at the best, and the oxen stumbled dreadfully in trying to protect their sore feet.  At the foot of the mountain we had several miles of soft and sandy road.  The sun shone very hot, and with no water we suffered fearfully.  A short way out in the sandy valley we pass again the grave of Mr. Isham, where he had been buried by his friends.  He was from Rochester, N.Y.  He was a cheerful, pleasant man, and during the forepart of the journey used his fiddle at the evening camps to increase the merriment of his jolly companions.  In those days we got no rain, see no living animals of any kind except those of our train, see not a bird nor insect, see nothing green except a very stunted sage, and some dwarf bushes.  We now know that the winter of 1849-50 was one of the wettest ever seen in California, but for some reason or other none of the wet clouds ever came to this portion of the State to deposit the most scattering drops of moisture.

Quite a long way from the expected camp the oxen snuffed the moisture, and began to hurry towards it with increased speed.  A little while before it did not seem as if they had ambition enough left to make a quick move, but as we approached the water those which had no packs fairly trotted in their haste to get a drink.  This stream was a very small one, seeping out from a great pile of rocks, and maintaining itself till it reached the sands, where it disappeared completely.  A few tufts of grass grew along the banks, otherwise everything surrounding was desolate in the extreme.