Now began among the party dissensions and grumblings. The story
is a long one. It reached its tragic denouement just below the
summit of the Sierras, on the shores of Donner Lake. The words of
McGlashan may now best serve our purpose.

"Generally, the ascent of the Sierra brought joy and gladness to
weary overland emigrants. To the Donner Party it brought terror
and dismay. The company had hardly obtained a glimpse of the
mountains, ere the winter storm clouds began to assemble their
hosts around the loftier crests. Every day the weather appeared
more ominous and threatening. The delay at the Truckee Meadows
had been brief, but every day ultimately cost a dozen lives. On
the twenty-third of October, they became thoroughly alarmed at
the angry heralds of the gathering storm, and with all haste
resumed the journey. It was too late! At Prosser Creek, three
miles below Truckee, they found themselves encompassed with six
inches of snow. On the summits, the snow was from two to five
feet in depth. This was October 28, 1846. Almost a month earlier
than usual, the Sierra had donned its mantle of ice and snow. The
party were prisoners!

"All was consternation. The wildest confusion prevailed. In their
eagerness, many went far in advance of the main train. There was
little concert of action or harmony of plan. All did not arrive
at Donner Lake the same day. Some wagons and families did not
reach the lake until the thirty-first day of October, some never
went farther than Prosser Creek, while others, on the evening of
the twenty-ninth, struggled through the snow, and reached the
foot of the precipitous cliffs between the summit and the upper
end of the lake. Here, baffled, wearied, disheartened, they