The party they left in camp consisted of thirteen adults and six children; there was very little civilized food, the oxen that might be killed when necessary being their chief reliance.
Manley and Rodgers took a course due west as nearly as the mountains would permit. Days passed, but they found no water. A big snow-capped mountain in the distance lured them on, and not till they came within its influence did they find relief. In order not to miss a possible chance of finding water, they separated, agreeing on a general course each would take, and that if either found water he should fire his gun as a signal. In a little while Rodgers fired his gun, and going to him, Manley saw that he had found a little ice as thick as window glass; eagerly they put some of it into their mouths and gathered all they could. It just filled their quart kettle; this they melted, and thus saved their lives. They had become so thirsty and their mouths and tongues became so dry that they could not chew their dried beef; the saliva would not flow. On they went again; in a few days they found a well developed trail leading toward the west. This they followed and came up with a party written of in the histories as the Jay-Hawkers. They were camped at some water holes where they had killed an ox and were drying the meat.
From them they received some fresh meat, and were also much refreshed by the water; they filled their canteens and pressed on, every moment being precious. When they parted, tears flowed freely from all eyes. Many of the larger company, being men past middle life, had about concluded that their chances of surviving the hardships through which they were passing were rather slim. They gave Manley and Rodgers the names and addresses of the friends they had left in the old home, asking them to tell their friends where and how they had found them, provided that they themselves were fortunate enough to reach a post office.
Soon after leaving the camp of the Jay-Hawkers, Manley and Rodgers realized that they had crossed the divide and that every step they took was down the Pacific slope; soon they began to see signs of life; a crow came in sight and perched within gunshot, and very promptly he was shot and bagged in Rodgers’ knapsack. A little later a hawk hove in sight, and it was very promptly taken care of in the same way; then a little further along they spied a quail; it also they shot.
Trees began to appear, and stumbling into a narrow ravine and following it for many miles, it led them to a much larger one, and O joy! there was a babbling brook of clear, sparkling water that literally sang them welcome as it wimpled over the stones in its course. They drank liberally of its life-giving stream, then dressed and cooked their three birds, and began to feel that life still held something for them. Soon a broad, grassy meadow opened before them. I will quote Manley’s words describing this incident.
“Before us was a spur from the hills that reached nearly across the valley and shut out further sight in that direction, and when we came to it we climbed up over it to shorten the distance. When the summit was reached, a most pleasing sight filled our sick hearts with a most indescribable joy.
“I shall never have the ability to adequately describe the beauty of the scene as it appeared to us, and so long as I live that landscape will be impressed on my mind. There before us was a beautiful meadow of a thousand acres, green as a thick carpet of grass could make it, and shaded with oaks, wide-branching and symmetrical, equal to those of an old English park. While all over the low mountains that bordered it on the south, and over the broad acres of luxuriant grass was a herd of cattle numbering many hundreds, if not thousands. All seemed happiness and contentment, and such a scene of abundance and rich plenty and comfort, bursting thus upon our eyes, which for months had seen only the desolation and sadness of the desert, was like getting a glimpse of Paradise, and tears of joy ran down our faces. The day was bright with sunshine as well as with hope, and it was the first day of January, 1850.”
Not a human being was in sight, and they were very hungry; down in a deep gully cut out by the rains, a yearling steer was feeding; Manley, gun in hand, crawled near to him and fired two shots, and as quickly as possible they were enjoying some of his meat that they roasted at once. They ate till they were satisfied, the first time in many long, dreary weeks. They then dried the balance of the meat, one of them sleeping while the other worked, relieving each other every few hours. The miserable dried meat that had been so long in their knapsacks they threw away, and refilled them with this good, fresh meat store.
They also made for themselves moccasins from the hide of the steer, and then continued their journey, though not very sure that they might not be pounced on at any moment for shooting the yearling steer. Soon they came to a strange-looking house of the adobe Mexican type, that proved to be the home of a farmer. There they found the woman of the house, but she could not speak or understand a word of English.
They had come out from the Sierra Madre Mountains into the San Fernando Valley at a point not far from the mission of that name. They went there and were entertained for the night, sleeping on the floor, but indoors. Here they met an American, with whom they talked over their troubles, and concluded, under his advice, that they would save time by returning to the settler’s house at which they had stopped on the previous day, and get the provisions they wanted. They might go on to Los Angeles, some thirty miles away, and fare no better, that place being very badly demoralized on account of the rush to the gold mines.