Contents ▼▲
Front Matter A Change of Homes "Joe Bowers" The Reasons for Moving Mother's Anxiety How we were to Travel Our Movable Home Leaving Ashley Eben Jordan On the Road Eben's Predictions What about California The First Encampment Night in Camp The Town of Independence Kansas Indians Looking into the Future A Stormy Day A Lack of Fuel Making Camp in a Storm A Thunderstorm Another Company of Pikers The Stock Stray Away An Indian Village I Weary with Traveling Eben's Boasts Suffering with Thirst In Search of Water Quenching Our Thirst Making Butter A Kansas Ferry At Soldier Creek Bread Making Prairie Peas Eben as a Hunter A Herd of Buffaloes Excitement in the Camp A Feast of Buffalo Meat Curing the Meat A Wash Day Uncomfortable Traveling Ellen's Advice Indians and Mosquitoes Prairie Dogs Colonel Russell's Mishap Chimney Rock At Fort Laramie Cooking in a Fireplace Trappers, Hunters, Indians On the Trail Once More Independence Rock Arrival at Fort Bridger Toward California At Bear River The Coming of Winter Utah Indians A Dangerous Trail Sunflower Seeds and Antelope A Forest Fire The Great Salt Lake Eben as a Fisherman Grasshopper Jam A Deserted Village The Great Salt Desert A Dangerous Journey Bread and Coffee Making Breaking Camp at Midnight Approaching the Salt Desert A Plain of Salt Like A Sea of Frozen Milk Salt Dust A Bitter Disappointment Coffee instead of Water A Spring of Sweet Water The Oasis Searching for Water The Beautiful Valley Snake Indians A Scarcity of Food Springs of Hot Water In the Land of Plenty The Truckee River The Sacramento Valley The Mission of San Jose Our Home in California

Martha of California - James Otis




Springs of Hot Water

It seems hardly possible that any liquid could come out of the earth so warm, and if I had never left Pike County I would have set down such a tale as a fable; but we did find boiling water, so hot that when Eben Jordan let down into one of those springs a slice of bacon tied to a string, it was well boiled in less than fifteen minutes.

[Illustration] from Martha of California by James Otis

However, we were not to be deprived of water even though it was hot, for father proposed that we fill some of our cups, declaring it would be sweet to the taste once it was cool.

This we did not only once, but three or four times, during the continuation of the march, for we came upon many of those hot springs on the trail after we left the banks of Mary's River.

Then came a day in August when, after an unusually wearisome march, we suddenly overtook two emigrant wagons in which were fourteen people who had come from Missouri.

Verily it seemed as if old friends were meeting, for as our train came in sight, some of the strangers began to sing, "My name it is Joe Bowers," and however weary I had once been of hearing that tune, it now sounded in my ears like music.

That evening we spent visiting; those people, like ourselves, were traveling toward the land of California, and only those who have been journeying in the desert and through the wilderness, without meeting any human beings save Indians, can understand how intent was the pleasure we experienced in being with our own kind again.

The emigrants decided to join our train, and we were right glad to have them with us, although their store of provisions was no greater than ours; but all were put on what father called "short allowance," which was to each person two slices of bacon and two pieces of bread during one entire day. All our men who had guns were continually searching for game; but while we could see antelope and even wild fowl, both beasts and birds were so shy that the best hunters among us could not get within gunshot.