It was really difficult for me to open my eyes, so heavily did slumber
weigh upon them, when I asked father if he had any idea of setting
off in such a storm, at the same time reminding him how our beasts had
struggled through the mud during the last rain.
He laughingly told me that we would continue on the trail, regardless
of the weather; that a rain storm was not to be compared in the way
of discomfort with snow. He said that unless we came to our journey's
end before the season of frost set in, we might never arrive, but
would be in danger of perishing, as others had who, striving to reach
California, had been overtaken by winter among the mountains.
"So long as the cattle are in condition to push on, just so long shall
we continue to march, regardless of whether the rain falls or the sun
shines," he said, speaking very solemnly, and mother's face grew grave
as if she was already beginning to understand the better what might be
before us.
"There will be all too many days when we must remain in camp; but now,
after such a long rest, it would be little less than wicked to remain
idle here simply because it might be more to our comfort."
[Illustration]
There is little need for me to explain how disagreeable it is to get up
in the morning and attempt to keep a fire going with wet fuel.
Everything was damp and uncomfortable to the touch, and all the
surroundings looked much as Ellen and I felt when we helped mother
prepare breakfast.
After that very unsatisfactory meal had been eaten, for we had nothing
save some half-fried bacon with cold corn bread, not being able to
make coffee because the fire would persist in going out, the train
was started. Ellen and I, crouching in the rear end of the wagon where
the rain could not drive in upon us, sat close to the stove, which now
seemed warmer than when we were trying to cook breakfast, and talked of
the future.
Of course I cannot set down all we said, for much of it was foolish;
but some of the conversation I have remembered clearly even to this
day.