Camp was made at the salt water hole, and our wheat and meat boiled in it did not soften and get tender as it did in fresh water.  There was plenty of salt grass above; but the oxen did not eat it any more than the horses did, and wandered around cropping a bite of the bitter brush once in awhile, and looking very sorry.  This was near the place where Rogers and I found the piece of ice which saved our lives.  The women did not seriously complain when we reached this camp, but little Charley Arcane broke out with a bad looking rash all over his body and as he cried most of the time it no doubt smarted and pained him like a mild burn.  Neither his mother nor any one else could do anything for him to give him any relief.  We had no medicines, and if he or any one should die, all we could do would be to roll the body in a blanket and cover it with a light covering of sand.

From this camp to the next water holes at the base of the great snow mountain, it was at least 30 miles, level as to surface, and with a light ascending grade.  The Jayhawkers had made a well marked trail, and it it was quite good walking.  The next camp was a dry one, both for ourselves and the oxen, nothing but dry brush for them, and a little dried meat for ourselves, but for all this the women did not complain so very much.  They were getting use to the work and grew stronger with the exercise.  They had followed Old Crump and the children every day with the canteens of water and a little dried meat to give them if they cried too much with hunger, and Arcane had led his ox day after day with a patience that was remarkable, and there was no bad temper shown by any one.  This was the way to do, for if there were any differences, there was no tribunal to settle them by.

In all this desert travel I did not hear any discontent and serious complaint, except in one case, and that was at the Jayhawker’s camp, where they burned their wagons at the end of the wagon road, in Death Valley.  Some could not say words bad enough to express their contempt, and laid all the trouble of salt water to Lot’s wife.  Perhaps she was in a better position to stand the cursing than any of the party present.

The next day we reached the water holes at the place where Rogers and I stole up to camp fire in the evening, supposing it to be Indians, but finding there Capt.  Doty and his mess, a part of the Jayhawker’s band.  By dipping carefully from these holes they filled again, and thus, although there was no flow from them we gradually secured what water we needed for the camp, which was a small amount after so long a time without.  There was some low brush here called greasewood, which grew about as high as currant bushes, and some distance up the mountain the oxen could find some scattery bunch grass, which, on the whole, made this camp a pretty good one.  The women, however, were pretty nearly exhausted, and little Charley Arcane cried bitterly all day and almost