The gentleman who first discovered this resemblance must have thought the size and form of fingers quite insignificant, provided the number was complete. The hand in question is afflicted with Elephantiasis in the thumb, dropsy in the little finger, hornet bites on the third finger, and the last stages of starvation in the other two.[129]
What a struggle they had in threading their way through fir and lodgepole forests east of the lake. The tanglewood was nearly impenetrable; no trails to guide them except the dim and devious ways of wild animals, “through which we toiled and swore our way, coming out after several days tattered and torn, ragged, bleeding and sullen.”[130] In this welter it was every man for himself after the general course had been determined. It was this circumstance that eventuated in the painful despair of Truman C. Everts.
Lost in the Wilderness
In Yellowstone even now the wilderness is almost within rifle-shot of the Grand Loop highway. Furthermore, the area’s conformation to a vast plateau renders it relatively deficient in accessible landmarks. Hedges and Stickney were inadvertently separated from the party on September 8, but they stumbled upon the camp by nightfall. The very next day Mr. Everts unintentionally drifted away from his associates. By evening he was laboriously embroiled in the forest labyrinth southeast of Lake Yellowstone. Unconcerned the first night, he made himself comfortable, fully assured of an early reunion the next day. From this point on, a chronicle of his experience reveals a record of astonishing incompetency and carelessness on his part. It is amazing that he escaped fatal consequences.
Up bright and early he was retracing the trail; dismounting to survey an engulfing situation, he left his horse untied, and it bolted. Upon its disappearing back was his entire outfit. In his excitement Everts then lost his spectacles, a grievous loss because he was nearsighted. Later on he also lost two knives and one of his shoes. The most valuable article on his person was his field glass. It saved his life.
Another day passed; complacence now turned to frenzy, and Everts fairly ran in circles. His voice gave out; his head whirled. The pangs of hunger were extremely severe, and the close of the second day found him in tears. A cold, dark night added terrors of its own. There were howling coyotes and roaring lions—whether real or fancied made little difference to a timid man.
Still, he reasoned upon his problem and resolved to fight his way through. In his ill-conceived exertions he came upon a beautiful little lake. He named it Bessie for his daughter. On its banks were several hot springs and numerous patches of elk thistles. In an agony of hunger he tasted a root; it was edible, better still when cooked in the boiling water. Then a storm came up. It whipped him both in body and mind. He became lethargic, satisfied to chew thistle roots and bake his backside on warm spring incrustations. Seven days Everts hovered over this location. This indecision on his part put him completely out of reach of salvation by the Washburn party.
Then the skies cleared; the sun glistened upon the water. Its reflection flashed an idea into his mind. “My opera glasses—fire from heaven!” Oh, happy, hope-renewing thought! It worked; he made a fire. With new purpose he bestirred himself; he would make a break, but which way should he go? South to Snake River? Yes, there were frontiersmen in Idaho. After many miles of painful toil among the intricacies of hill and vale his faith weakened. The goal—a notch in the mountain barrier—seemed to recede as if in mockery of his feeble efforts.[131]
“I’ll go west into the Madison Valley—that’s shorter.” So he stumbled off in that direction. A precipitous escarpment obstructed his path; there was no pass. The distraught pilgrim lighted a fire. It got out of control; he fled from its awful devastation. In utter exhaustion he sat down to rest; whereupon, he experienced an hallucination. An old clerical friend seemed to be standing before him. He seemed to say, “Go back immediately, as rapidly as your strength will permit. There is no food here, and the idea of scaling these rocks is madness.” Amid serious misgivings Everts decided to retrace the course of ingress. His heart nearly failed him as he envisioned the unending panorama of the Yellowstone River trail. Final resolution was helpful, and he trudged on by day, rested by night, and gnawed on “Everts” thistle betimes.
For two long weeks the party camped along the southwest shore of the lake. From this base position they daily sent out searching details, lighted signal fires, shot guns, posted notices, and cached food. No clues were found, and the time was far spent. They regretfully concluded that their companion was either hopelessly lost or well upon his way toward home. A foot of snow had already fallen. The thirty-day rations had rendered thirty-two days’ service. In these circumstances Cornelius Hedges expressed his depression in his diary: