With sickening anguish the first morsels were prepared and given to
Lemuel Murphy, but for him they were too late. Not one touched flesh of
kindred body. Nor was there need of restraining hand, or warning voice
to gauge the small quantity which safety prescribed to break the fast
of the starving. Death would have been preferable to that awful meal,
had relentless fate not said: "Take, eat that ye may live. Eat, lest ye
go mad and leave your work undone!"
All but the Indians obeyed the mandate, and were strengthened and
reconciled to prepare the remaining flesh to sustain them a few days
longer on their journey.
Hitherto, the wanderers had been guided partly by the fitful sun,
partly by Lewis and Salvador, the Indians who had come with Stanton
from Sutter's Fort. In the morning, however, when they were ready to
leave that spot, which was thereafter known as the "Camp of Death,"
Salvador, who could speak a little English, insisted that he and Lewis
were lost, and, therefore, unable to guide them farther.
Nevertheless, the party at once set out and travelled instinctively
until evening. The following morning they wrapped pieces of blanket
around their cracked and swollen feet and again struggled onward until
late in the afternoon, when they encamped upon a high ridge. There they
saw beyond, in the distance, a wide plain which they believed to be the
Sacramento Valley.
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