incline when the axle to the fore wheels broke, and the wagon tipped
over on the side, tumbling its contents upon you two children.
Father and uncle, in great alarm, rushed to your rescue. Georgia was
soon hauled out safely through the opening in the back of the wagon
sheets, but you were nowhere in sight, and father was sure you were
smothering because you did not answer his call. They worked
breathlessly getting things out, and finally uncle came to your limp
form. You could not have lasted much longer, they said. How
thankful we all were that our heaviest boxes had been cached at
Geyser Springs!

Much as we felt the shock, there was little time for
self-indulgence. Never were moments of greater importance; for while
father and uncle were hewing a new axle, two men came from the head
of the company to tell about the snow. It was a terrible piece of
news!

Those men reported that on the twenty-eighth of that month the larger
part of the train had reached a deserted cabin near Truckee Lake (the
sheet of water now known as Donner Lake) at the foot of Frémont's Pass
in the main chain of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The following morning
they had proceeded to within three miles of the summit; but finding
snow there five feet in depth, the trail obliterated, and no place for
making camp, they were obliged to return to the spot they had left
early in the day. There, they said, the company had assembled to
discuss the next move, and great confusion prevailed as the excited
members gave voice to their bitterest fears. Some proposed to abandon
the wagons and make the oxen carry out the children and provisions;
some wanted to take the children and rations and start out on foot; and
some sat brooding in dazed silence through the long night.