Were they to walk? They couldn't carry their
packs.' 'Certainly not; we were English gentlemen, and would
behave as such. Each man should have his own mule; each,
into the bargain, should receive his pay according to
agreement.' They were agreeably surprised. I then very
strongly counselled them not to travel together. Past
experience proved how dangerous this must be. To avoid the
temptation, even the chance, of this happening, the surest
and safest plan would be for each party to start separately,
and not leave till the last was out of sight. For my part I
had resolved to go alone.
It was a melancholy day for everyone. And to fill the cup of
wretchedness to overflowing, the rain, beginning with a
drizzle, ended with a downpour. Consultations took place
between men who had not spoken to one another for weeks.
Fred offered to go on, at all events to Salt Lake City, if
Nelson the Canadian and Jacob would go with him. Both
eagerly closed with the offer. They would be so much nearer
to the 'diggings,' and were, moreover, fond of their leader.
Louis would go back to Fort Laramie. Potter and Morris would
cross the mountains, and strike south for the Mormon city if
their provisions and mules threatened to give out. William
would try his luck alone in the same way. And there remained
no one but Samson, undecided and unprovided for. The strong
weak man sat on the ground in the steady rain, smoking pipe
after pipe; watching first the preparations, then the
departures, one after the other, at intervals of an hour or
so. First the singles, then the pair; then, late in the
afternoon, Fred and his two henchmen.
It is needless to depict our separation. I do not think
either expected ever to see the other again. Yet we parted
after the manner of trueborn Britons, as if we should meet
again in a day or two. 'Well, good-bye, old fellow. Good
luck. What a beastly day, isn't it?' But emotions are only
partially suppressed by subduing their expression. The
hearts of both were full.
I watched the gradual disappearance of my dear friend, and
thought with a sigh of my loss in Jacob and Nelson, the two
best men of the band. It was a comfort to reflect that they
had joined Fred. Jacob especially was full of resource;
Nelson of energy and determination. And the courage and cool
judgment of Fred, and his presence of mind in emergencies,
were all pledges for the safety of the trio.
As they vanished behind a distant bluff, I turned to the
sodden wreck of the deserted camp, and began actively to pack
my mules. Samson seemed paralysed by imbecility.
'What had I better do?' he presently asked, gazing with dull
eyes at his two mules and two horses.
'I don't care what you do. It is nothing to me. You had
better pack your mules before it is dark, or you may lose
them.'
'I may as well go with you, I think. I don't care much about
going back to Laramie.'
He looked miserable. I was so. I had held out under a long
and heavy strain. Parting with Fred had, for the moment,
staggered my resolution. I was sick at heart. The thought
of packing two mules twice a day, single-handed, weakened as
I was by illness, appalled me. And though ashamed of the
perversity which had led me to fling away the better and
accept the worse, I yielded.
'Very well then. Make haste. Get your traps together. I'll
look after the horses.'
It took more than an hour before the four mules were ready.
Like a fool, I left Samson to tie the led horses in a string,
while I did the same with the mules. He started, leading the
horses. I followed with the mule train some minutes later.
Our troubles soon began. The two spare horses were nearly as
wild as the mules. I had not got far when I discerned
through the rain a kicking and plunging and general
entanglement of the lot ahead of me. Samson had fastened the
horses together with slip knots; and they were all doing
their best to strangle one another and themselves. To leave
the mules was dangerous, yet two men were required to release
the maddened horses. At last the labour was accomplished;
and once more the van pushed on with distinct instructions as
to the line of march, it being now nearly dark. The mules
had naturally vanished in the gloom; and by the time I was
again in my saddle, Samson was - I knew not where. On and on
I travelled, far into the night. But failing to overtake my
companion, and taking for granted that he had missed his way,
I halted when I reached a stream, threw off the packs, let
the animals loose, rolled myself in my blanket, and shut my
eyes upon a trying day.
Nothing happens but the unexpected. Daylight woke me.
Samson, still in his rugs, was but a couple of hundred yards
further up the stream. In the afternoon of the third day we
fell in with William. He had cut himself a long willow wand
and was fishing for trout, of which he had caught several in
the upper reaches of the Sweetwater. He threw down his rod,
hastened to welcome our arrival, and at once begged leave to
join us. He was already sick of solitude. He had come
across Potter and Morris, who had left him that morning.
They had been visited by wolves in the night, (I too had been
awakened by their howlings,) and poor William did not relish
the thought of the mountains alone, with his one little white
mule - which he called 'Cream.' He promised to do his utmost
to help with the packing, and 'not cost us a cent.' I did
not tell him how my heart yearned towards him, and how
miserably my courage had oozed away since we parted, but made
a favour of his request, and granted it.
