Rebecca E. App, writing for her mother, gives a vivid description of this journey across the summits, from which is taken the following brief extract:
"It was a bright Sunday morning when we left the cabins. Some were in good health, while others were so poor and emaciated that they could scarcely walk. I was one of the weakest in the party, and not one in the train thought I would get to the top of the first hill. We were a sad spectacle to look upon as we left the cabins. We marched along in single file, the leader wearing snow-shoes, and the others following after, all stepping in the leader's tracks. I think my sister and myself were about the rear of the train, as the strongest were put in front. My sister Elitha and I were alone with strangers, as it were, having neither father, mother, nor brothers, to give us a helping hand or a word of courage to cheer us onward. We were placed on short allowance of food from the start, and each day this allowance was cut shorter and shorter, until we received each for our evening and morning meal two small pieces of jerked beef, about the size of the index finger of the hand. Finally, the last ration was issued in the evening. This was intended for that evening and the next morning, but I was so famished I could not resist the temptation to eat all I had--the two meals at one time. Next morning, of course, I had nothing for breakfast. Now occurred an incident which I shall never forget. While I sat looking at the others eating their morsels of meat, which were more precious than gold or diamonds, my sister saw my distress, and divided her piece with me. How long we went without food after that, I do not know. I think we were near the first station."
Death of Ada Keseberg Denton Discovering Gold A Poem Composed While Dying The Caches of Provisions Robbed by Fishers The Sequel to the Reed-Snyder Tragedy Death from Over-eating The Agony of Frozen Feet An Interrupted Prayer Stanton, after Death, Guides the Relief Party The Second Relief Party Arrives A Solitary Indian Patty Reed and her Father Starving Children Lying in Bed Mrs. Graves' Money Still Buried at Donner Lake.
Peasin P. Tucker's relief party had twenty-one emigrants with them after Patty and Thomas Reed returned to the desolate cabins. On the evening of the first day, one of the twenty-one died. It was the baby child of Lewis Keseberg. The mother had fairly worshiped her girl. They buried the little one in the snow. It was all they could do for the pallid form of the starved little girl. Mrs. Keseberg was heart-broken over her baby's death. At the very outset she had offered everything she possessed--twenty-five dollars and a gold watch-to any one who would carry her child over the mountains. After the starved band resumed their weary march next morning, it is doubtful if many thought of the niche hollowed out of the white snow, or of the pulseless heart laid therein. Death had become fearfully common, and his victims were little heeded by the perishing company. The young German mother, however, was inconsolable. Her only boy had starved to death at the cabins, and now she was childless.