SNOWBOUND--SCARCITY OF FOOD AT BOTH CAMPS--WATCHING FOR RETURN OF
M'CUTCHEN AND REED.
When we awoke the following morning, little heaps of snow lay here and
there upon the floor. No threshold could be seen, only a snow-bank
reaching up to the white plain beyond, where every sound was muffled,
and every object was blurred by falling flakes.
Father's face was very grave. His morning caress had all its wonted
tenderness, but the merry twinkle was gone from his eye, and the
gladsome note from his voice. For eight consecutive days, the fatal
snow fell with but few short intermissions. Eight days, in which there
was nothing to break the monotony of torturing, inactive endurance,
except the necessity of gathering wood, keeping the fires, and cutting
anew the steps which led upward, as the snow increased in depth. Hope
well-nigh died within us.
All in camp fared alike, and all were on short rations. Three of our
men became dispirited, said that they were too weak and hungry to
gather wood, and did not care how soon death should put an end to their
miseries.
The out-of-door duties would have fallen wholly upon my Aunt Betsy's
two sons and on John Baptiste and on my crippled father, had the women
lost their fortitude. They, however, hid their fears from their
children, even from each other, and helped to gather fuel, hunt cattle,
and keep camp.
Axes were dull, green wood was hard to cut, and harder to carry,
whether through loose, dry snow, or over crusts made slippery by sleet
and frost. Cattle tracks were covered over. Some of the poor creatures
had perished under bushes where they sought shelter. A few had become
bewildered and strayed; others were found under trees in snow pits,
which they themselves had made by walking round and round the trunks to
keep from being snowed under. These starvelings were shot to end their
sufferings, and also with the hope that their hides and fleshless bones
might save the lives of our snow-beleaguered party. Every part of the
animals was saved for food. The locations of the carcasses were marked
so that they could be brought piece by piece into camp; and even the
green hides were spread against the huts to serve in case of need.
After the storm broke, John Baptiste was sent with a letter from my
mother to the camp near the lake. He was absent a number of days, for
upon his arrival there, he found a party of fourteen ready to start
next morning, on foot, across the summit. He joined it, but after two
days of vain effort, the party returned to camp, and he came back to us
with an answer to the letter he had delivered.
We then learned that most of those at the lake were better housed than
we. Some in huts, and the rest in three log structures, which came to
be known respectively as the Murphy, Graves, and Breen cabins. The last
mentioned was the relic of earlier travellers[4] and had been grizzled
by the storms of several winters. Yet, despite their better
accommodations, our companions at the lake were harassed by fears like
ours. They too were short of supplies. The game had left the mountains,
and the fish in the lake would not bite.
Different parties, both with and without children, had repeatedly
endeavored to force their way out of that wilderness of snow, but each
in turn had become confused, and unconsciously moved in a circle back
to camp. Several persons had become snow-blind. Every landmark was
lost, even to Stanton, who had twice crossed the range.
All now looked to the coming of McCutchen and Reed for deliverance. We
had every reason to expect them soon, for each had left his family with
the company, and had promised to return with succor. Moreover, Stanton
had brought tidings that the timely assistance of himself and comrade
had enabled Reed to reach Sutter's Fort in safety; and that McCutchen
would have accompanied him back, had he not been detained by illness.
Well, indeed, was it that we could not know that at the very time we
were so anxiously awaiting their arrival, those two men, after
struggling desperately to cross the snows, were finally compelled to
abandon the attempt, bury the precious food they had striven to bring
us, and return to the settlement.
It was also well that we were unaware of their baffling fears, when the
vigorous efforts incited by the memorial presented by Reed to Commodore
Stockton, the military Governor of California, were likewise frustrated
by mountain storms.
[Footnote 4: Built by Townsend party in 1844. See McGlashan's "History
of the Donner Party."]