Well, what next?  We could not depend upon fishing and hunting, for we had no fish-hooks, nor means of catching fish, and not more than a dozen loads of shot, and a little powder; so the matter of slaying one of our animal friends was now seriously debated, and, after thoroughly canvassing the whole situation, it was most reluctantly determined that, however hard, this must be done.  No doubt our starving condition at that particular time had some weight in making this decision.

Then the question was, which of the animals shall be sacrificed?  The mule was quite thin, and probably tough, while the little horse was young, and, notwithstanding the many days it had, with all of us, starved and traveled without water, was still quite plump and round, and probably tender, or, at the worst, not so tough as the poor old docile mule; so, at length we decided to kill the innocent little creature, jerk his flesh, pack it on the mule, and thereby try to save our own lives, for a time at least, and endeavor to reach some place of safety.

The matter of slaying the horse was determined by casting lots, neither being willing to perform that melancholy, but now absolutely necessary, act.  It fell to my lot, and that was one of, if not the most revolting act in my whole life’s experience, for I had, probably, become as strongly attached to that little horse as man ever becomes attached to animal.  I most reluctantly took the bridle in my left hand, my revolver in my right, stood directly in front of the poor, unsuspecting, innocent creature with the murderous pistol close to, and a little above a line extending from eye to eye, and fired.  When the smoke of the powder had cleared off a little, I saw at my feet the quivering, dying body.  I staggered off a few steps and sat down, sick at heart.

Field walked several steps away, and turned his back upon the scene until after the fatal shot had been fired; then, after some little time, he entered upon his share of the enforced duty, and, after having removed a portion of the skin, cut off some slices of flesh and brought them to a fire I had started.  We broiled and ate a little of it, not through desire or relish for it, but from a sense of duty, knowing that our lives depended upon it.

It is said that for many years Dr. Franklin refrained from eating flesh, having an idea that it was wrong to slay and eat the flesh of other creatures; but that he changed his mind, and his diet, too, after having seen large fish devour small ones.  I strongly suspect that if the doctor had been with us, or in a like condition, even before his conversion, he would, more than likely have taken a little flesh, even though it had been a piece of his own favorite horse.