heartened they continued their way, but were soon
obhged to bury a portion of their property. That
day they encountered an ominous snow-storm, and
made but six miles; the next day they passed over
some low mountains, and encamped ni a well-watered
valley. October 1st saw them slowly travelling along
down Ofirden river.
And now begins a tale whose sickening details blot pages of our annals ; a tale before which I would gladly close my eyes and lay down my pen ; a tale which calls in question whether indeed there be in man, left to himself, any divine spark, any innate good. More bloody than beasts, more insane than demons, these human castaways in a desert wilder- ness, surromided by their wives and children, first shot at by savages as they pass along, fall to fighting among themselves. Some oxen becoming unruly, two teams are entangled, whereupon the drivers swear ; then one of them threatens to thrash the owner, and dealing him a heavy blow with the butt end of his whip, receives in return a stab which stretches him dead upon the plain. Reed, who does the killing, though regretfully and in self-defence, is driven from the camp. Thereupon he marches on before the oth- ers, dodging the arrows of the savages and giving the company warning of impending attacks, and thus passes over the mountains into California. Continu- ing their way, an old, worn-out man, whose feet had swollen to bursting, is left behind to die. In vain does my unwilling credulity look for escape; in vain do I seek some excuse for the pitiless act ; the doers of the deed themselves tell the story, and say their cattle could not draw him. Hardcoop, from Antwerp, Belgium, sixty years of age, ill and worn out, was the abandoned man, and Eddy, the narrator of the fact, he who refused him conveyance. One Kiesburg, a most loathsome villain, of whom more hereafter, thrust from his wagon the old man, and when besought by his companic^ns to return for him, replied, " I will not
<jal. Int. Poc, 7
