Saturday, September 15.
We started this morning at 5.30 o’clock and traveled 19 miles across a barren, undulating desert, when we came to a place known as the Rabbit Wells, where four or five wells, some 8 or 10 feet deep, have been excavated by the immigrants in advance for the purpose of obtaining water for themselves and their stock.
These wells, with one or two exceptions, were filled with dead animals. Having seen the water at the bottom and being so eager to obtain it, they rushed head first into them, where they perished and could not well be extricated. The water of these wells is of a poor quality and proved to be scarce.
After traveling six or seven hours over a very dusty road on a hot day, it is far better than none. There was a large number of immigrants at the wells and it was difficult to obtain a sufficient quantity of water, it being dipped up with tin cups as fast as it ran into the wells. We remained there one hour and a half and obtained what water we were able to, but could get very little for our animals. Neither was there anything for them to eat.
As we had no beef killed we had nothing for dinner. Beef had been our principal dependence for some time past. It had become very poor and we had almost nothing to cook it with. There are no “Buffalo chips” this side of the Rockies.
We started in the afternoon and at about sunset came in sight of Black Rock (Spring), which was then about nine miles distant across a level, barren plain.
When within about six miles of Black Rock one of the mules which I was driving became so exhausted that he refused to go any farther, and I was obliged to unpack and leave him with the pack by the roadside; after which I reached Black Rock at about eleven o’clock at night.
The company, with a few exceptions, had arrived in advance of me and were principally asleep. I traveled the whole distance (40 miles) on foot, and drove two mules and one horse, which made considerable extra travel. I had no dinner or supper, and after arriving at Black Rock, rolled myself in my blankets and was soon asleep.
Sunday, September 16.
The country over which we made forty miles yesterday is known as the Black Rock Desert, and the road is literally strewn with dead animals—cattle, horses and mules. The stench of these dead and decaying carcasses contributes largely to render the traveling still more disagreeable than it would otherwise be.