The Spenders: A Tale of the Third GenerationWilson, Harry Leon
General
The Spenders: A Tale of the Third Generation
Wilson, Harry Leon
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Jan. 8, after getting out of supplies, we abandoned our camp at
Riverside and moved 10 m. down the river carrying what we could on our
backs. Met pack train with a few supplies that night, and next day I
took part of the force in boat to meet over-due load of supplies. We
got froze in the ice. Left party to break through and took Billy Brue
and went ahead to hunt team. Billy and me lived four days on one lb.
bacon. The second day Billy took some sickness so he could not eat
hardly any food; the next day he was worse, and the last day he was so
bad he said the bare sight of food made him gag. I think he was a liar,
because he wasn't troubled none after we got to supplies again, but I
couldn't do anything with him, and so I lived high and come out slick
and fat. Finally we found the team coming in. They had got stuck in the
river and we had to carry out the load on our backs, waist-deep in
running water. I see some man in the East has a fad for breaking the
ice in the river and going swimming. I would not do it for any fad.
Slept in snow-drift that night in wet clothes, mercury 40 below. Was 18
days going 33 miles. Broke wagon twice, then broke sled and crippled
one horse. Packed the other five and went on till snow was too deep.
Left the horses where four out of five died and carried supplies the
rest of the way on our backs. Moved camp again on our backs and got
caught in a blizzard and nearly all of us got our last freezeup that
time. Finally a Chinook opened the river and I took a boat up to get
the abandoned camp. Got froze in harder than ever and had to walk out.
Most of the men quit on account of frozen feet, etc., etc. They are a
getting to be a sissy lot these days, rather lie around a hot stove all
winter.
"I had to pull chain, cut brush, and shovel snow after the 1st Feb. Our
last stage was from Fire Hole Basin to Madison Valley, 45 m. It was
hell. Didn't see the sun but once after Feb. 1, and it stormed
insessant, making short sights necessary, and with each one we would
have to dig a hole to the ground and often a ditch or a tunnel through
the snow to look through. The snow was soft to the bottom and an
instrument would sink through."
"Here's a fine letter to read on a hot day," called Percival. "I'm
catching cold." He continued.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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