The weakened party again laid over on the following day. They hunted carefully but to no avail, since the horses were too weak to carry the riders far afield from the camp, and the game was well up in the hills to the east. Warren, that “most indefatigable fisherman,” caught 16 magnificent trout, all of which were eaten for supper. Warren’s horse was shot for food, since it was the weakest and poorest of the lot. He had not a particle of fat on his carcass, and we had no salt or other seasoning. Drew the powder from a package of cartridges and used it. We had been using the same old coffee and tea grounds for two weeks and the decoctions derived therefrom had no power in them, no momentum. For tobacco we had smoked larb, red willow, and rosebush bark. All these gave a mockery and a delusion to our ceaseless cravings. We chewed pine gum continually, which helped a little. We boned a quarter of the old horse, and boiled the meat nearly all night, cracking the bones as well, and endeavoring to extract a show of grease therefrom out of which to upholster a delicious and winsome gravy. The meat cooked to a watery, spongy, texture, but the gravy sauce was a dead failure. Horse meat may be very fine eating when smothered with French sauces, but the worn out U. S. Cavalry plug was never intended for food. The flesh tastes exactly as the perspiration of the animal smells. It is in addition tough and coarse grained. We ate it ravenously, stopping to rest occasionally our weary jaws. It went down and stayed, but did not taste good. Weather turned colder toward morning. River running ice in cakes which screamed and crashed continually through the night. For the next several days the party continued without serious mishap, other than damage to the boat on two occasions when she crashed into submerged boulders. Warren continued to take trout successfully, the fish and horsemeat making up the sketchy bill of fare. On December 7, moving through the open country of the southern part of Jackson Hole, Sergeant Server and Davis, while hunting, found the cabin of a trapper, John Pierce. The old man was greatly surprised to see anyone with animals in the upper Snake River Basin at that time of the year, gave the men a substantial meal and some salt, ... which improved our regal fare by somewhat smothering the sour perspiration taste of the old horse. He also sent word to me about the settlement below “Mad River Canyon.” River too shallow for fishing, but we had salt on our horse for supper.