A little incident at Grand River reveals Marcus Whitman's indomitable spirit. It is a deep, dangerous, treacherous river, and many an immigrant has lost his life in the Grand or the Green river. The water is icy cold, even in mid-summer.
When the bold group of travelers stood on the bank they found a stream six hundred feet wide, two hundred feet on each side ice, and two hundred in the middle rolled the rapid torrent. The guide shook his head and said, "It is impossible! We cannot cross." Whitman replied, "We must cross, and now." He got down from his horse, cut a strong cottonwood pole about eight feet long. Mounting his horse, he put the pole upon his shoulder, and said, "Now push us in." The guide and the General skated them to the brink, and "horse and rider," says the General, "entirely disappeared, coming to the surface some distance below." The horse soon found footing and made for the shore, where Whitman broke the ice with his pole, and helped his horse to the firm ice. He soon had a rousing fire from the logs and driftwood. Those conversant with animal habits know that when the lead animal has passed any point, however dangerous, the rest are eager to follow. The General and guide broke the ice for a roadway to the water, and each seizing a tail, were towed safely to the farther shore.
They Reach Santa Fé
Upon reaching Santa Fé, in New Mexico, they felt quite in touch with civilization. They would no longer have to grope in the dark, along doubtful and unknown trails, but it all the more made Whitman anxious to push forward. They paused only long enough to inquire for news from the States, and to purchase a few needed supplies. It was still a long journey, and as it proved, more perilous to life than any portion they had already passed. Their next point was Bent's Fort on the head waters of the Arkansas River, now in Colorado. It was a cheerless, dreary plains journey, with none of the magnificent scenery of the mountain route to keep them company. Water was often scarce, as well as wood, except along the small streams. The intensely cold winter and deep snows had made the big gray wolves a menace to life of men and beasts. One very cold night they reached a little river which had no wood on the side they camped, but was plentiful on the opposite bank. Whitman seized his ax, but found the ice would break under his feet. He then lay flat upon the ice, wormed himself across, skated a bountiful supply across the glossy surface, and then returned in safety as he had gone.
Unfortunately, one of his heavy blows split his ax-handle. When he returned to his tent, he took a piece of rawhide, wrapped the spliced pieces carefully, and threw it down at the door of the tent. In the morning it was discovered that some thieving wolf attracted by the rawhide had stolen the implement, and they never saw it again. Had this occurred two months before, it would have been regarded as an irreparable disaster.
Four days before reaching Bent's Fort they met Colonel Bent's son with a pack-train en route to El Paso. He informed them that in two days a company of fifty packers would leave the fort for St. Louis, and that there would not be another until towards spring.
He told them that it would be impossible for them with pack animals to reach the fort before the departure of the company. Whitman was at once aroused by the information. He proposed that he should take his blankets and two days' provision, make a forced march, and catch the convoy, while General Lovejoy and the guide could bring on the pack animals and remain at the fort, recuperate the stock, and meet him on the Missouri border in the spring. This was agreed to, and Whitman started on his lonely ride to Bent's. General Lovejoy and the guide moved on leisurely, reaching Bent's Fort four days later. They were astonished and alarmed when told that the Doctor had not arrived.
Whitman is Lost
General Lovejoy stated the whole case to Colonel Bent, who was at once aroused to action. He started runners after the company, ordering them to go into camp on the Cottonwood, and await further commands.
"He sent out his best scouts in the search. Myself, guide, and one of the scouts passed up the banks of the Arkansas for one hundred miles, knowing if Whitman was alive he would make for the river. Every night our camp would be surrounded by hungry, gaunt, gray wolves, which as they were shot down would be torn in pieces and devoured by their fellows."