That night I, for one, had not much sleep. I was soaked from
head to foot, and had not a dry rag for a change. Alternate
fits of fever and rigor would alone have kept me awake; but
renewed ponderings upon the situation and confirmed
convictions of the peremptory necessity of breaking up the
party, forced me to the conclusion that this was the right,
the only, course to adopt.
For another twenty-four hours I brooded over my plans. Two
main difficulties confronted me: the announcement to the
men, who might mutiny; and the parting with Fred, which I
dreaded far the most of the two. Would he not think it
treacherous to cast him off after the sacrifices he had made
for me? Implicitly we were as good as pledged to stand by
each other to the last gasp. Was it not mean and dastardly
to run away from the battle because it was dangerous to fight
it out? Had friendship no claims superior to personal
safety? Was not my decision prompted by sheer selfishness?
Could anything be said in its defence?
Yes; sentiment must yield to reason. To go on was certain
death for all. It was not too late to return, for those who
wished it. And when I had demonstrated, as I could easily
do, the impossibility of continuance, each one could decide
for himself. The men were as reckless as they were ignorant.
However they might execrate us, we were still their natural
leaders: their blame, indeed, implied they felt it. No
sentimental argument could obscure this truth, and this
conviction was decisive.
The next night and the day after were, from a moral point of
view, the most trying perhaps, of the whole journey. We had
halted on a wide, open plain. Due west of us in the far
distance rose the snowy peaks of the mountains. And the
prairie on that side terminated in bluffs, rising gradually
to higher spurs of the range. When the packs were thrown
off, and the men had turned, as usual, to help themselves to
supper, I drew Fred aside and imparted my resolution to him.
He listened to it calmly - much more so than I had expected.
Yet it was easy to see by his unusual seriousness that he
fully weighed the gravity of the purpose. All he said at the
time was, 'Let us talk it over after the men are asleep.'
We did so. We placed our saddles side by side - they were
our regular pillows - and, covering ourselves with the same
blanket, well out of ear-shot, discussed the proposition from
every practical aspect. He now combated my scheme, as I
always supposed he would, by laying stress upon our bond of
friendship. This was met on my part by the arguments already
set forth. He then proposed an amendment, which almost upset
my decision.
