Jan. 16th. Marched up the [Grape] creek all day. Encamped early, as it was snowing. I went out to hunt, but killed nothing. Deer on the hill; the [Wet] mountains lessening. Distance 18 miles.[III-32]
Jan. 17th. Marched about four miles, when the great White mountain[III-33] presented itself before us, in sight of which we had been for more than one month, and through which we supposed lay the long-sought Red river. We now left the [Grape] creek on the north of us, and bore away more east, to a low place in the [Wet] mountains. About sunset we came to the edge of a prairie which bounded the foot of the [Wet] mountains. As there was no wood or water where we were, and the woods from the skirts of the [Sangre de Cristo] mountains appeared to be at no great distance, I thought proper to march for it; in the middle of said prairie crossed the creek [recrossed Grape creek from N. E. to S. W.], which now bore east. Here we all got our feet wet. The night commenced extremely cold, when we halted at the woods at eight o'clock, for encampment. After getting fires made, we discovered that the feet of nine of our men were frozen; and, to add to this misfortune, both of those whom we called hunters were among the number. This night we had no provision. Reaumer's [Réaumur's] thermometer stood at 18½° below zero. Distance 28 miles.[III-34]
Sunday, Jan. 18th. We started two of the men least injured; the doctor and myself, who fortunately were untouched by the frost, also went out to hunt something to preserve existence. Near evening we wounded a buffalo with three balls, but had the mortification to see him run off notwithstanding. We concluded it was useless to go home to add to the general gloom, and went amongst some rocks, where we encamped and sat up all night; from the intense cold it was impossible to sleep. Hungry and without cover.
Jan. 19th. We again took the field, and after crawling about one mile in the snow, got to shoot eight times among a gang of buffalo; we could plainly perceive two or three to be badly wounded, but by accident they took the wind of us, and to our great mortification all were able to run off. By this time I had become extremely weak and faint, it being the fourth day since we had received sustenance, all of which we were marching hard, and the last night had scarcely closed our eyes to sleep. We were inclining our course to a point of woods, determined to remain absent and die by ourselves rather than return to our camp and behold the misery of our poor lads, when we discovered a gang of buffalo coming along at some distance. With great exertions I made out to run and place myself behind some cedars. By the greatest of good luck, the first shot stopped one, which we killed in three more shots; and by the dusk had cut each of us a heavy load, with which we determined immediately to proceed to the camp, in order to relieve the anxiety of our men and carry the poor fellows some food.
We arrived there about twelve o'clock, and when I threw my load down, it was with difficulty I prevented myself from falling; I was attacked with a giddiness of the head, which lasted for some minutes. On the countenances of the men was not a frown, nor a desponding eye; all seemed happy to hail their officer and companions, yet not a mouthful had they eaten for four days. On demanding what were their thoughts, the sergeant replied that on the morrow the most robust had determined to set out in search of us and not return unless they found us, or killed something to preserve the lives of their starving companions.
Jan. 20th. The doctor and all the men able to march; returned to the buffalo to bring in the balance of the meat. On examining the feet of those who were frozen we found it impossible for two of them [Sparks and Dougherty] to proceed, and two others only without loads, by the help of a stick. One of the former was my waiter, a promising young lad of twenty, whose feet were so badly frozen as to present every probability of losing them. The doctor and party returned toward evening, loaded with the buffalo meat.
Jan. 21st. This day we separated the four loads which we intended to leave, and took them some distance from camp, where we secured them. I went up to the foot of the mountain to see what prospect there was of being able to cross it, but had not more than fairly arrived at its base when I found the snow four or five feet deep; this obliged me to determine to proceed and côtoyer the mountain [keep alongside the base of the Sangre de Cristo range] to the south, where it appeared lower, until we found a place where we could cross.
Jan. 22d. I furnished the two poor lads who were to remain with ammunition, made use of every argument in my power to encourage them to have fortitude to resist their fate, and gave them assurance of my sending relief as soon as possible. We parted, but not without tears.
We pursued our march, taking merely sufficient provisions for one meal, in order to leave as much as possible for the two poor fellows who remained. They were John Sparks and Thomas Dougherty. We went on eight miles and encamped on a little creek,[III-35] which came down from the mountains. At three o'clock went out to hunt, but killed nothing. Little snow.