So I took the pistol; but the knife I did not take.
Just before starting Mr. Wallace says that he is going to read a
chapter before starting. Mr. Hubbard asked him to read the
thirteenth chapter First Corinthians, and so he did.
It was time to start.
Mr. Wallace went to Mr. Hubbard and said, "Good-bye, I'll try and
come back soon."
Then I went to him and tried to be as brave as Wallace.
When I took his hand he said, "God bless you, George," and held my
hand for some time.
I said, "The Lord help us, Hubbard. With His help I save you if I
can get out." Then I cried like a child.
Hubbard said, "If it was your father, George, you couldn't try
harder to save."
Wallace came back to Hubbard again, and cried like a child and
kissed him; and again I went to him and kissed him and he kissed
me, and said again, "The Lord help you, George."
He was then so weak that be could hardly speak.
We came away.
TRYING TO GET HELP
When we left Mr. Hubbard an east and raw wind was blowing, and soon
rain began, and heavy rain all way, and were soaked to the skin,
and made poor time. We followed the river as it ran out into Grand
Lake. The least thing we tripped on we would fall, and it would be
some time before we could get up. Or we went too near a tree, that
a branch would catch on us, would pull us down. At dark we stopped
for the night. The trees were very small, and we couldn't get any
shelter at all, and hard to get wood with no axe. We pulled
together some half rotten lain trees. Our fire wouldn't burn
hardly, and couldn't dry our things, and had to sit up all night
with wet clothes on, near our fire, or rather near our smoke, as
the wood being too rotten that it wouldn't burn. About two o'clock
the wind turned westward, the rain ceased, but it began to snow
very hard. The night was long and my mind on Hubbard all the time
could not forget him.
In the morning, Monday, Oct. 19th, the snow nearly up to our knees.
We started early. Our eyes were quite dim with the smoke and
everything looked blue. It troubled us all day. Before noon I
tracked up a partridge. Oh, how I wished to get him! I came to
the place where he had flown away and hunted for him quite a while.
At last he flew off. I was just near him and yet did not see him,
about 4 feet over my head; but I saw where he perched. I didn't
want to go too near him for fear he might fly away before I could
shoot him.
