Drew gave the expeditionary force a day of rest on Sunday, August 7, then they set out again on Monday, traveling three days without a break. As they traveled during the hot, tedious summer days, Will and Jonah argued. They fought over whose mules were most cantankerous, who had the better horse, the height of the surrounding mountains, and how soon they’d reach Fort Boise.
On the evening of August 10, the expedition camped near a small grove of pines on Warner’s Mountain, which Drew named Lone Pines. The colonel didn’t ask for help that evening, so Will rested near a campfire with Joel and Jonah. Will was scheduled for guard duty later that night, and he wanted to get to bed early. But Jonah bickered with him again over whose lot in life was worse.
Finally, Joel flipped a twig at Jonah. “Act like a man,” he said, which seemed to be his stock advice to the boys. “You’re gettin’ fed every day through little effort of your own. And paid good money to boot.”
“Farmin’ was easier’n this,” Jonah muttered.
“Then head home soon as we get back to Fort Klamath,” Joel said. “I ain’t asked to listen to you bellyache.”
They rested a few days at Lone Pines, then moved on again on August 13, traveling twenty-three miles through an interminable sage desert spotted with small water holes and springs. Some of the watering spots were surrounded by marshes covered in dense cane that grew as high as a man on horseback. Some of the springs were hot and others cold as snow runoff, some were good-tasting and others full of minerals.
Through the entire long day, they found no grass for their animals. Finally, Drew called the halt on a foul lake he named, for reasons obvious to Will, Guano Lake. The water teemed with ducks and geese. The men had to dig along the lake shores to find water clean enough for cooking, but no one found it palatable to drink.
“Better boil this water good afore you drink it,” Joel advised.
“I can’t even breathe,” Jonah complained. “This place stinks.”
“What do you expect from a lake named Guano?” Will chuckled. “This isn’t a place I’d want Mama or Maria to know about.”
Tracks of shoed horses, Indian ponies, and wagon wheels all converged on a beaten trail heading south from the lake. A small group of Indians watched from the hills above, and Will wondered if it was Paulina’s band.
“Do you think they’ll attack?” Will asked Joel.
Joel spat. “Depends on how many of them there are. We got a lot of soldiers with us. And a howitzer. Odds are, we’re safe enough. But who knows?”
They only remained at Guano Lake one night. The poor water and need for better grass sent them on their way early the next morning. But the two Indian scouts who had been with them since Fort Klamath refused to go with them. Will overheard the conversation between Drew and the scouts.
“We leave now, Colonel,” the lead scout told Drew.
“You signed on for the whole reconnaissance,” Drew argued. “You can’t leave.”
“Wagons too slow,” the scout told him. “We need go home.”
“Who will lead us through the Owyhee?” Drew demanded. “We’re barely into the region we planned to explore.”
“Your men do fine.” The scout mounted his horse. Before they left, however, he turned to Drew and said, “Chief Paulina near. You watch out.”
“Damn,” Drew said. “Did you see Paulina’s men? Is that why you’re leaving?”
The Klamath scout shrugged, and he and his fellow scout rode off, while Drew continued cursing.
When Drew’s tirade ended, Will asked, “Paulina—he’s the Paiute chief?”
“Yes, damn it. Those savages leave us with wagons and cattle to defend, and God knows how many warriors in the vicinity.”
Now they had only one guide—a man who had joined them in Surprise Valley.
After the Indian scouts abandoned the expedition, the wagons and teams left Guano Lake. As they traveled, they saw many more tracks of horses, mules, and wagons.
During the day, one of the female travelers in Richardson’s wagon train became violently ill. Dr. Greer, the militia surgeon, attended her, but Will saw him shaking his head when Drew asked for a report on her condition.
“High fever and intestinal problems,” Will heard the doctor tell the colonel. “Could be from Guano Lake. Could be something else.”
“What can we do for her?” Drew asked.
“Let’s put her in the quartermaster’s ambulance. Her constitution can’t take the jostling of her family’s wagon. And I’ll be better able to keep my eye on her.”
Drew frowned. “Will she improve?”
The doctor shrugged. “She’d be best off with a rest of a few weeks, maybe months. Even then, she’s near death and might not be saved at all.”
They rode on through the largest sagebrush bushes Will had seen yet. The sage slowed the expedition further, as the worst of it had to be chopped before the wagons could roll over it. They couldn’t stop without water and grass, and so they pushed on. They traveled twenty-eight miles, lasting from early morning until after the sun set.
Finally, they reached a spring that burst forth from the side of a mountain about fifty miles away from the Warner Mountain peak. Water flowed into a grassy ravine wide enough for the wagons to pass, with sufficient bunch grass for the animals.
“What say we call this Isaac’s Springs?” Drew proclaimed. “As a compliment to our guide.”
To the relief of all, they were able to make a relatively pleasant camp near the spring.
August 14, 1864. Camped at Isaac's Springs after trekking 28 miles. Klamath scouts left us. Drew is worried, so I am, too.
