The story of these two men is told by McMahon in the following interesting letter.

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Dear Manley:—­

Yours requesting me to give you a synopsis of the history of incidents, experience, and observations of our mutual friend, Richard Field and myself, from the time you, John Rogers, Alfred Walton, and the Hazelrig brothers left us at the camp of the generous old chief Walker on the west bank of the river near the mouth of the “great seven days canon” is at hand.

You no doubt distinctly, and with pleasure, remember that unbroken friendship which existed among us up to the time of our separation and that we parted warm and tried friends.

Well, after you and your companions had left us we set to work to prepare the canvas for the continuation of the voyage down the river.  We drilled holes through the sides of the “Pilot”—­you, I have no doubt remember which that was, yours and mine, in which we took so many fearful risks, and “No. 2,” so that we might in case of necessity lash the two together.  After a day or two Field lost courage and finally determined to go no further down the river.  Walker in the meantime had repeated his friendly warnings appertaining to the great danger in going further down the river.  You will remember what he had told us about it before you left us.

You know that I was the biggest coward of the whole seven; but I assumed courage and told Field that I would go down the river alone; and, for a time, I thought I would do so; but after some reflection I concluded that, perhaps, discretion was the better part of valor, and reluctantly gave it up.  We now decided to follow you, or to take some other unknown route and try to make our escape out of this most perilous condition.

We then set about, as you had done, to trade with Walker for a pony or two, and after much dickering Field succeeded in getting the, afterwards famous, big, old, sore-backed mule.  You may not remember him, but I do; and, notwithstanding his sore back, he made pretty good beef.  I, with pins, needles, thread, a pocket-knife, a handkerchief, etc., succeeded in getting a very nice, round, three-year-old, iron-gray pony.

After making pack-saddles, and getting almost ready to start, we were, through Walker’s kindness and persuasiveness, overcome, and consented to go with him, feeling confident that we would not starve to death while with him.  We did not now have Manley with his long experience, and his old rusty, but always trusty, rifle as a sure defence against possible hunger and starvation.

The old chief, and, in fact, the whole tribe, seemed pleased when we consented to go with them.  Preparations were now made, and all except the horses and four head of cattle, was conveyed across the river in the two canoes which were lashed together, while the horses and cattle were forced to swim to the other side where we camped for the night.  Next morning the clever old chief had two good horses fitted up in good style for Field and I, which we rode all of the nine days that we remained with the band, while our own run with the herd.  Our baggage was carried on some of the chief’s pack-horses.  We were, in fact, his honored guests, as will hereafter appear.