We were near what is known as the Great Salt Desert; in fact, were
to cross it on the morrow, and when Eben Jordan led me some distance
farther up the ridge, I could see it at my feet.
The desert is covered with salt like sand, and on it grows nothing
except wild sage, while from where we were then camped, until it would
be possible again to find water, is no less than sixty miles, as Eben
said.
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Sixty miles over a soft surface where the animals would oftentimes sink
fetlock-deep, and the wheels of the wagons plow into the salt sand
until the progress must be woefully slow. In addition, all the while
we would plod along knowing that no water was to be had, save what we
carried with us, until the train gained the opposite side.
We were camped on the side of a mountain which seemed to be made up
almost wholly of rock; this place had been decided upon because there
could be found a small spring, yielding barely enough water to satisfy
the desires of ourselves and the animals.
It was the last spring or stream of fresh water we should come upon
until we had traveled across that desert, which, from the distance,
looked like a great sea of milk. Once we had started upon the journey,
it would be necessary to continue on, heeding not those who might fall
by the way, so I heard father and Colonel Russell say, for the lives of
our people depended upon our going steadily forward.