We do not know that Fort Uinta is occupied.

Shall we make another attempt to cross the river?
I asked my brave friend if he was willing to again mount the mule and make another attempt, when he again exclaimed, "You must be a d--d fool!" I then, pretending to have a little courage, asked him if he would follow provided I would lead, whereupon he declared most emphatically that under no conditions would he again attempt to swim across that river.

I had not had his experience, but fear of being drowned was quite sufficient to prevent me from undertaking the perilous task, more especially after witnessing his failure.
Well, what next?
We could not depend upon fishing and hunting, for we had no fish-hooks, nor means of catching fish, and not more than a dozen loads of shot, and a little powder; so the matter of slaying one of our animal friends was now seriously debated, and, after thoroughly canvassing the whole situation, it was most reluctantly determined that, however hard, this must be done.

No doubt our starving condition at that particular time had some weight in making this decision.
Then the question was, which of the animals shall be sacrificed?
The mule was quite thin, and probably tough, while the little horse was young, and, notwithstanding the many days it had, with all of us, starved and traveled without water, was still quite plump and round, and probably tender, or, at the worst, not so tough as the poor old docile mule; so, at length we decided to kill the innocent little creature, jerk his flesh, pack it on the mule, and thereby try to save our own lives, for a time at least, and endeavor to reach some place of safety.
The matter of slaying the horse was determined by casting lots, neither being willing to perform that melancholy, but now absolutely necessary, act.

It fell to my lot, and that was one of, if not the most revolting act in my whole life's experience, for I had, probably, become as strongly attached to that little horse as man ever becomes attached to animal.