Sunday, September 12
We traveled this day seventeen and three quarters miles and camped by Heber's Spring on Horseshoe Creek. We found the spring had ceased running but there was water in the creek a little north. The roadometer has broken down today over the same ground it broke as we went west. Our bread stuff is now out and we have to live solely on meat the balance of the journey. John Pack has got flour enough to last him through. We have all messed together until ours was eaten, and now John Pack proposes for each man to mess by himself. He has concealed his flour and beans together with tea, coffee, sugar, etc., and cooks after the rest have gone to bed. Such things seem worthy of remembrance for a time to come.