Soon after we left Onion Valley it commenced raining, which soon after turned into a wet snow. This melted nearly as fast as it fell, and being thinly clad as I was, I was soon wet to the skin and very cold and uncomfortable. I thought that if I could only get my blankets out of the pack to put over my shoulders it would be much more comfortable, and perhaps better for the health of a sick man.
I spoke to Mr. Jewett about it and he replied that he couldn’t get at the blankets without unpacking the horse, and that he thought I could get along without them. I said no more about the matter. We at length arrived at Grass Valley, thoroughly drenched and almost exhausted.
While Mr. Jewett and his party were pitching the tent for the night, I went into a cloth eating house and seated myself on a board before a small fire burning on the ground. After being seated there for some time I felt very faint. I could see nothing for several minutes and everything looked black. I said nothing but kept my seat, which was near the table. I soon recovered from the faintness and became partially warm.
Supper was at length announced, but I did not desire to leave my seat, neither did I feel like eating anything. I turned and faced the table, ate a small piece of a cracker and drank a little tea, paid two dollars for supper, and again faced the fire.
When it was nearly night I went over a short distance to Mr. Jewett’s camp. He said I had the scurvy, but I didn’t think so. He wanted me to get some potatoes and eat them raw, scraped in vinegar. He urged the matter so persistently that I bought a pound of small potatoes, for which I paid one dollar and a half, scraped some of them into vinegar and made an effort to take them as medicine. It was too much like an emetic for me. I threw away those I had prepared, gave the balance to Mr. Jewett, and told him that rather than eat raw potatoes I would take my chances with the scurvy. But, in fact, I did not believe I had the scurvy, and later I was thoroughly convinced that I did not have it. Mr. Jewett was very timid that night and very nervous.
Each one of the small party had some kind of firearms. I had a double barrel shotgun, which was loaded with buckshot, but during the rain it had become wet through so that it was impossible to discharge it without giving it a thorough cleaning and drying. He desired me to put it in thorough order and reload it. I told him I would not do it, that I was about to lie down and make myself as comfortable as possible.
He said we were all liable to be murdered before morning. I said to him that I felt no fear of it, and that I was willing to take the risk. The night passed quietly away, and the next morning I felt slightly rested, but no better otherwise. I had no appetite and was quite weak.
After Mr. Jewett and his party had eaten their breakfast, they packed up and started for the next camp, which was twelve or thirteen miles distant.
We soon fell in with another small party that was traveling the same way, and Jewett was very much pleased to have their company.
I could not travel as fast as the party, and falling behind I traveled alone nearly the entire distance. When I arrived at the camp I was nearly exhausted. I did not at that time look for Jewett and his party. They were preparing or eating their dinners a short distance away. But I found my blankets where he unpacked his horse, and I lay down upon them under a tree and soon fell asleep.