Their accounts induced one Captain Glenn, of Cincinnati, to join them in a commercial expedition, and another caravan, twenty men strong, started again for Santa Fe.

They sought a shorter road, to fall in with the Arkansas river, but their enterprise failed; for, instead of ascending the stream of the Canadian fork, it appears that they only coasted the great river to its intersection by the Missouri road.
There is not a drop of water in this horrible region, which extends even to the Cimaron river, and in this desert they had to suffer all the pangs of thirst.

They were reduced to the necessity of killing their dogs and bleeding their mules to moisten their parched lips.

None of them perished; but, quite dispirited, they changed their direction and turned back to the nearest point of the river Arkansas, where they were at least certain to find abundance of water.

By this time their beasts of burden were so tired and broken down that they had become of no use.
They were therefore obliged to conceal their goods, and arrived without any more trouble at Santa Fe, when, procuring other mules, they returned to their cachette.
Many readers are probably unaware of the process employed by the traders to conceal their cargo, their arms, and even their provisions.