This time the anticipation was worse than the reality. On resuming the march, we traveled over the side of the barren ridge more than twelve miles, until we came to a well-defined wagon trail which, so some of our people said, had first been made by emigrants from Missouri.
I gave little heed as to who might first have passed over the trail, rejoicing with Ellen that at last we had come to some evidence of human beings; it seemed as if our troubles were well-nigh at an end, for we were told that this trail would lead us by the most direct course into that land of California where we hoped to find rest and comfort.
SEARCHING FOR WATER
From this on, during four wearisome days, we were kept upon a short allowance of water, and did not dare eat much food lest it should unduly excite our thirst.
Now and then we came upon a spring, when our water casks and every vessel that could be used for the purpose were filled to the brim, and yet again and again we suffered from thirst, but not so keenly as while crossing the desert.
Whenever I slept, it was to dream of the river we had left behind us on the border of Pike County, wishing that it might be possible for me to go to its banks once more, and, even though the water was muddy, drink my fill.
In due time we came to that point in the trail where we were forced to march directly over the face of the mountains. Here our fathers found the way so difficult that once more the teams were doubled up, twelve or fifteen yoke of cattle being put on one wagon, and, after hauling the heavy load to the summit of the range, driven back to get another.
Of course our progress was slow, and we traversed mile after mile only with severe labor on the part of the men and boys, for we girls and the women did no more than walk in order to lessen the load.