OFF THE TRAIL.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5455, 6 January 1896, Page 3

OFF THE TRAIL.

By and by we came out on a bluff from which we could look down into the long and narrow valley. Two miles to the north, and on the far side of the valley, we caught sight of three or four white-topped waggons, while a number of horse 3 were grazing on the. rich pasturage.. ,',

Dayton's waggon, tf^in had got off. tlie overland trail and. been ilost among the mountains of Nevada-Height waggons, and thirty-seven men, women and children. ' It ■was September when they were last seen on the trail ; it was now June of the following year. Every valley and pass in the eastern portion of the wild territory was being inspected by men sent out to solve the mystery. One day they had turned off' the trail to find a shorter and better route. No word had come from them since. It had been a terribly hard winter, but there was hope of finding at least a part of them alive.

We made our way along the bluffs until a spot was found where we could descend into the valley. We were hardly down before horses came running up, and their every action showed that they were overjoyed at the sight of human beings. They were hollow-eyed and poor in flesh, as the grass had only just begun to furnish pasturage. We fired off our guns as a signal to the people in camp that help was at hand, but no one appeared in sight. W« had. looked for the smoke of camp fireSfrom the bluff, but not the faintest trace could be seen. As we advanced upon the waggons the horses kept us company, following at our heels like dogs, and their action prepared us in a measure for what was to come.

When within half a mile of the camp we could count the waggons— eight. The covers still remained, but faded and mildewed. Each was backed up against the steep hillside, and the fronts of all were closed. In front of the waggons were .four blackened spots on which the grass would not grow. /These had been the camp fires of the emigrants. At a distance of 200 feet we halted and raised a cheer, and two of the men discharged their rifles, but . Jiptr. a sound (same . from the ; grim-looking waggons." We stood there for three or four minutes, hoping that, someone would appear, and yet feeling, that we had come too late, when the old hunter who had acted as our guide solemnly observed :

"If d thar's anythin' livin' in this camp it's too sick and feeble £o move ' Some of you had better take a look into the waggons."

.' For a'time every one hung back. There were the horses and waggons, but where ware the thirty-seven men, wometi,/and children? Between the- waggons, which were about ten feet apart, the grass w&s thickest and greenest, but the horses h^d not fed there. As we started forward' after our last halt, they did not follow us, but stood, with heads up and ears pointed forward, inclined to rim away. "It's got to be done," said the Lieutenant, " but I hope they all got away. Now then, each man to a waggon. You needn't stop at the covers, but take your knives and cut the fronts away and let the sunlight and daylight in."

I sprang up on the front of the waggon and cut and tore the cover away, but did not look in. A cry from the man on my left warned me of the sight I should behold. , The guide beckoned to : me ; and together we went up the valley about twenty rods to the spot where they had obtained most of their firewood. Lying on h}s face on the ground, with arms still clasped about a bundle of limbs, was a dead man* Sitting down, with his back to a small tree and hands over his face, was another, while an axe lay beside him. There was no odour, no gnastliness. As you looked at them they seemed to be sleeping. .

"Thar's another — and another!" said the guide as he pointediip thevalley. " It's easy to see how it came about."

In the waggons they found twenty-eight dead. The four we found made thirty-two. Five of the men had left the camp, perhaps in mid-winter, and had started up or down the valley jn hopes to find a way out or bring relief. When they perished no man has ever found out. It may have been oh the very day they started that the blizzard came. The horses must have found a sheltered nook somewhere, and huddled together. . A gale had screamed up and down that valley for two or three days, its breath as cruel as the edge of a knife, and bringing with it such a fall of snow that it" still lay solid as ice in the shady, spots. The men had made a brave effort tq keep the fires going, but human flesh and blood could not stand against an enemy which drove its frosty breath deep into flinty rocks and split them in twain. Some lay under their blankets, some sat with bowed heads and arms folded across their breasts. The cold had not tortured them. Death had come as sleep comes to us at night, quietly and gratefully. Side by side in one long trench we laid them, and covered them in, and there they rest to-day, forgotten to the woxid as if they had never existed.