When spoken to about this party, they burst into tears and could not talk of it.

So it is known that at least thirteen men perished in the country which has well been named Death Valley.
People who have always been well fed, and have never suffered from thirst till every drop of moisture seemed gone from the body, so they dare not open their mouth lest they dry up and cease to breathe, can never understand, nor is there language to convey the horrors of such a situation.

The story of these parties may seem like fairy fables, but to those who experienced it all, the strongest statements come far short of the reality.

No one could believe how some men, when they are starving take on the wild aspect of savage beasts, and that one could never feel safe in their presence.

Some proved true and kind and charitable even with death staring them in the face, and never forgot their fellow men.
Some that seemed weakest proved strongest in the final struggle for existence.
Early next morning before the sun rose they started to cross the snow, leaving their comrade Robinson behind, rolled up in his blankets, taking his everlasting sleep so far as the troubles of this world are concerned.