As Dr. Trask could be of no further use, we insisted on his going on board the boat, as Follen was with us and knows a great deal about medicine, though leaving home just before taking his degree as a physician, deprives him of a title. All arrangements being made, I only waited for the boat to come up, and in a few minutes I had the gratification of hearing her last bell, and seeing her push off from our miserable camp for Rio Grande City. When the order was given to go on board and take all the luggage, many started with only their saddlebags, either in terror, or in apathy, from the effect of the air on their systems. Scarcely more than twenty men were willing to take provisions enough to feed on for even one day. David Hudson showed himself one of the most energetic and helpful and there were some twenty others, but I was too anxious and too hurried in directing and working as well, to notice any but the most faithful, and the most unfaithful. I took Langdon Havens on board, never expecting to see him again, he looked pale, yellow, blue, black, all colors at once, the large blood vessels of the neck swollen and black, showing how rapidly the disease was gaining on him, and begged Trask to do all he could for him. Then I came ashore and saw the boat off, turned away and stood for a moment to draw a long breath and wipe my streaming face, the mercury was 99 degrees in the shade. I looked at the group of good men who had reluctantly left me and had assembled in the stern of the boat to bid me good-bye; in silence they took off their hats, not a sound was heard but the escapement of the steam. Sorrow filled my heart for the probable fate of so fine a body of men, but it was no time now for reflections, I had three dying men on my hands, and the business of the camp to attend to. I went to the sick tents; poor young Liscomb worn out and heart broken sat leaning against the tent where his father lay dying, looking as pallid and exhausted as the sick man, and almost asleep; I roused him and sent him to my tent to get some rest. Edward Whittlesey was next, looking as if he had been ill for months; his dog, a Newfoundland, was walking about him, licking his hands and feet and giving evidence of the greatest affection; from time to time smelling his mouth for his breath, but it was gone. I slowly walked to Boden's tent but there was no change from the stupor into which he had fallen; and I sat down to wait, for what? All exertions had been made to save our brave men, and all had failed. Like sailors with masts and rudder gone, wallowing in the trough of a storm-tossed ocean, we had to await our fate, one of us only at a time going from tent to tent of our dying companions to note the hour of their last breath.