Her shoes had been eaten by our starving dog before
he disappeared, and as all others were buried out of reach, mother had
substituted a pair of her own in their stead.
Mr. Foster took charge of Simon Murphy, his wife's brother, and Messrs.
Eddy and Miller carried Georgia and me. Mr. Eddy always called Georgia
"my girl," and she found great favor in his eyes, because in size and
looks she reminded him of his little daughter who had perished in that
storm-bound camp.
Our first stop was on the mountain-side overlooking the lake, where we
were given a light meal of bread and meat and a drink of water. When we
reached the head of the lake, we overtook Nicholas Clark and John
Baptiste who had deserted father in his tent and were hurrying toward
the settlement. Our coming was a surprise to them, yet they were glad
to join our party.
After our evening allowance of food we were stowed snugly between
blankets in a snow trench near the summit of the Sierras, but were so
hungry that we could hardly get to sleep, even after being told that
more food would do us harm.
Early next morning we were again on the trail. I could not walk at all,
and Georgia only a short distance at a time. So treacherous was the way
that our rescuers often stumbled into unseen pits, struggled among snow
drifts, and climbed icy ridges where to slip or fall might mean death
in the yawning depth below.
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