e snow, passing
an underground life, as it were, seldom visiting each other, or leaving
the cabins, these poor prisoners learned to listen rather than look for
relief. During the first days they watched hour after hour the upper end
of the lake where the "fifteen" had disappeared. With aching eyes and
weary hearts, they always turned back to their subterranean abodes
disappointed. Hope finally deserted the strongest hearts. The brave
mothers had constantly encouraged the despondent by speaking of the
promised relief, yet this was prompted more by the necessities of the
situation than from any belief that help would arrive. It was human
nature, however, to glance toward the towering summits whenever they
ascended to the surface of the snow, and to listen at all times for an
unfamiliar sound or footstep. So delicate became their sense of hearing,
that every noise of the wind, every visitor's tread, every sound that
ordinarily occurred above their heads, was known and instantly detected.

On this evening, as the two women were sobbing despairingly upon the
snow, the silence of the twilight was broken by a shout from near Donner
Lake! In an instant every person forgot weakness and infirmity, and
clambered up the stairway! It was a strange voice, and in the distance
the discovered strange forms approaching. The Reed and the Breen
children thought, at first, that it was a band of Indians, but Patrick
Breen, the good old father, soon declared that the strangers were white
men. Captain Tucker and his men had found the wide expanse of snow
covering forest and lake, and had shouted to attract attention, if any
of the emigrants yet survived. Oh! what joy! There were tears in other
eyes than those of the little children. The strong men of the relief
party sat down on the snow and wept with the rest. It is related of one
or two mothers, and can readily be believed, that their first act was to
fall upon their knees, and with faces turned to God, to pour out their
gratitude to Him for having brought assistance to their dying children.
Virginia Reed did not die.

Captain Reasin P. Tucker, who had been acquainted with the Graves family
on the plains before the Donner Party took the Hastings Cut-off, was
anxious to meet them. They lived in the lower cabin, half a mile further
down Donner Creek. When he came close enough to observe the smoke
issuing from the hole in the snow which marked their abode, he shouted,
as he had done at the upp