He said they were all raised together in one town in Missouri and were as dear to each other as though they had been brothers, and all their parents were in Denver, Colorado, where the four sons had left them when they started out prospecting for gold, and he said with tears in his eyes, “How can I ever tell their mothers what we all suffered, and how the two died and their bodies left laying unburied?”

After we had talked as long as I thought was best for him to dwell on the sad events, I cheered him up as well as I could.  I assisted him to mount the horse I had selected for him to ride, and we pulled out on the trail for the Fort.

He was so weak that we could not ride over ten miles a day, and we were seven days going back the same distance that I had traveled in two when I struck out to find them.

The day before we reached Bent’s Fort, I shot a young deer just as we were going into camp, and as he was eating some of it, he said it was the sweetest meat he’d ever eaten.

We landed at Bent’s Fort on the evening of the seventh day after I started back with him.  His comrade was sitting outside of the Fort when we came in sight, and when he saw us he hurried to meet us, and when we were in speaking distance of each other he said: 

“Bill, I had given up all hope of ever seeing you again,” and he did not wait for his friend to dismount, but reached up and took him off in his arms, and men who were used to all kinds of sights turned away with tears in their eyes at the sight of that meeting.

After they were seated together in the Fort and were more composed, they began talking about how they should tell the parents of the comrades who had died in the mountains.

One said, “I can never tell them,” and the other said, “We must, for they will have to be told, and who else will do it?”

They now turned to me and asked if I would take them to Denver, and what I would charge them for doing it.  I said, “Boys, I will take you to Denver, and when we get there you can pay me whatever you can afford to pay, be it much or little.”

So it was decided that we should leave the Fort in the morning, and, as we were nearly ready to start, the man who had brought the news and had remained at the Fort while I went to find his comrades asked Col.  Bent how much his bill would be for the time he had staid there.  Col.  Bent said, “You do not owe me a cent,” and taking a twenty-dollar gold piece from his pocket, the Colonel handed it to one of the men, saying as he did so, “But you can give this to Mr. Drannan, for he is the one that deserves this and more for what he has done.”  We mounted our horses and left the Fort and struck the trail for Denver.

Nothing occurred to impede our journey, and we arrived at Denver on the third day after we left Fort Bent.

We camped on Cherry Creek on the edge of town.

I said:  “Now, boys, I will take care of the horses and cook supper, and you two can strike out and see if you can find your folks, and if you have not found them by dark, come back here and get your supper and stay with me tonight.”