Staff in hand, they had set forth on snowshoes, each carrying a pack
containing little save a quilt and light rations for six days'
journeying. One had a rifle, ammunition, flint, and hatchet for camp
use. William Murphy and Charles Burger, who had originally been of the
number, gave out before the close of the first day, and crept back to
camp. The others continued under the leadership of the intrepid Eddy
and brave Stanton.
John Baptiste remained there a short time and returned to us, saying,
"Those at the other camp believe the promised relief is close at hand!"
This rekindled hope in us, even as it had revived courage and prolonged
lives in the lake cabins, and we prayed, as they were praying, that the
relief might come before its coming should be too late.
Oh, how we watched, hour after hour, and how often each day John
Baptiste climbed to the topmost bough of a tall pine tree and, with
straining eyes, scanned the desolate expanse for one moving speck in
the distance, for one ruffled track on the snow which should ease our
awful suspense.
Days passed. No food in camp except an unsavory beef hide--pinching
hunger called for more. Again John Baptiste and Noah James went forth
in anxious search for marks of our buried cattle. They made
excavations, then forced their hand-poles deep, deeper into the snow,
but in vain their efforts--the nail and hook at the points brought up
no sign of blood, hair, or hide.
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