Dan DeQuille:  Washoe Rambles

[From the San Francisco Golden Era, July 28-December 1, 1861]

Part 1 of 4 

CHAPTER I

First halt—A square meal—A beleaguered camp—The horn of the hunter!—Misery on the march—More game—Complacent again—Fort Churchill—Canteens and comfort—Buckland's beef—Piute picnic—All's well—A model young white man—A look at Carson Lake—Taking a turn—Our "crack" contributor —Sink Station—Spirited keeper—Silver Hills—"Sands of gold."

On the expedition I had for companions Mr. Robert Payne, of Silver City, and Mr. T. S. Smith, taxidermist, from Grass Valley, Cal.—The latter joined in, more for the purpose of prospecting for rare specimens of birds, etc., than of looking for minerals. We were each mounted on a good half-breed horse, carried two double-barrelled fowling pieces, and were each provided with a revolver. Our blankets, provisions and other necessaries, were packed on the back of a stout jackass, and we felt that we were prepared to chance our luck in the mountains. Getting a late start from Silver City we reached Chinatown about noon, and as we might not soon have another opportunity, concluded to halt at the Mineral Rapids' Hotel and take a "square meal" with our old friends, Bailey & Washburn.

Leaving Chinatown, or as it is now called, Nevada City, we traveled down the left bank of the Carson at a leisurely pace, passing numerous ranches along the river, and when within about eight miles of Fort Churchill, chose a camp for the night. About an hour before reaching our camping ground we passed a party of soldiers from Benicia on their way to Churchill, who were encamped among the willows on the river bank. Their camp was formed in good order, and their shining muskets stacked in regular rows through the centre of the encampment. Some were cooking; others, seated on the grassy margin of the river angling for trout; and again, others wandering about the numerous clumps of cottonwoods near the stream. After halting we were about to pitch our camp among the willows on the margin of the river, when we were assailed by myriads of mosquitos and forced to retreat to an open piece of ground higher up the river among some large cottonwoods.

Having unpacked, unsaddled and turned our animals out to graze, we cooked supper and for a short time flattered ourselves that we had eluded the mosquitos. But, about dark, they came down upon us "like the wolf on the fold." We built up a great fire, thinking to smoke them away; but, blood-thirsty villains that they were, they seemed both fire and smoke-proof, and annoyed us terribly, till at length a brisk breeze from the west started up and put them to flight. On preparing to spread our blankets it was found that our fire occupied the most level and desirable spot of ground; therefore we removed it, and digging away the hot earth, levelled it off with fresh, cool soil. Thinking it all right, we made our beds upon it and turned in. It was my "infernal luck" to be placed immediately on the spot on which our fire had been. At first I found my bed perfectly comfortable, but in about an hour the heat began to come up through the blankets and in a few minutes I felt most uncomfortably warm. The wind having fallen, our insect tormentors returned in full force to the attack and obliged us to cover head and heels in the blankets. This was in itself enough to inconvenience a fat man at any time, but stretched on the crater of a Vesuvius in miniature, was absolutely suffocating.

The earth grew hotter and hotter; in fact I could not bear my hand underneath the bed, and the heat rising up through the blankets, I began to fear being cooked. The perspiration streamed from every pore, and my clothing was as completely drenched as though I had been drawn through the river. If I uncovered my face, at least five thousand mosquitos were ready to pounce upon me, and if I remained covered I was likely to smother. Tom, who lay on the edge of the heated earth, at length began to roll, and toss, and swear. But being lean, and not being squarely over the furnace, he did not suffer—notwithstanding his howling—the tenth part of what I felt. We thought of moving our quarters, but we were now in possession of the only lot of ground, smooth or free from rocks, and hoped that in a short time the heat would moderate or the mosquitos leave. But the heat continued all night and the mosquitos kept up their jubilee till almost day. Half an hour's sleep was all I was able to get that night; but I arose "as limber as an eel," and, contrary to my expectations, I felt rested and refreshed, with not an ache in my body.

This was my first "earth bath" and if the "kort knows herself," will be my last till after mosquito time. We arose with the lark, dove, "yaller-hammer," and other poultry, and after a breakfast of coffee, slap-jacks and bacon, amused ourselves for a couple of hours with hooks and lines. But nary a one of the numerous trout "weighing from one to five pounds," would condescend to honor us with a nibble.—We tried 'em with livers of doves, legs of larks; with bacon, slap-jacks and grasshoppers; still nothing but the mosquitos bit. Oh! that the trout had been one half as ravenous; we should have caught fifty barrels. Tom and Bob at length threw down their rods in huge disgust, and taking the guns, sallied out among the groves to wage war on the doves, jack-rabbits and other "wild beasts of prey;" whilst I, being determined to do something in the piscatory line, lashed on a very small hook and went angling for minnows, and believe I enjoyed my sport quite as well as though I were landing whales. My biggest fish was about three and one half inches in length, and played beautifully, giving me for a time most exciting sport.—He ran out all my line, leaped into the air, and again plunging into his native element lashed the waters so vigorously with his sinewy tail, as to come near rippling the surface of the pool. At length our hunters returned, having bagged two doves and a snipe, with only nine pounds of shot. If they had only taken out a few more pounds of shot they think they could have secured another snipe.

The animals were now driven up and harnessed, and we were soon again on the road toward Fort Churchill. Our march was slow. Not a lark or dove passed near us but we commenced an instant bombardment. By noon we had traveled the surprising distance of four miles, and finding a shady, grassy nook in a bend of the river, considered it wisdom to halt and give "exhausted nature a show to repose"—and let the jack-ass pick. On counting our game we found we had one small snipe and a dove, and a dove and one small snipe, and, also—as Tom sensibly remarked—half a pair of snipe and half a pair of doves. In this dewy nook, under the spreading arms of the old cottonwoods and among the waving willows, we each took a pretty good horn of brandy, afterwards kindled a fire, roasted the whole of our game and with slap-jacks and coffee, made a meal such as a priest, a king or Piute Capitan might have envied.

But it was all right. Who has a better right to feast and rest and drink "horns of brandy" than the hardy explorers of this sterile wilderness? Who has a better right to stretch out on the green and velvety sward and with pipe in mouth gaze upward at the blue sky and scudding clouds through the shifting and fantastic openings of the foliage of the great cottonwoods? Have we not performed the arduous journey of four miles since having broken our fast? And shall we now be denied the right to rest our weary limbs and recruit our exhausted strength? Yea!—So we refill our pipes and rest for another hour.

Becoming wearied with resting, we saddle our horses, pack the burro and renew the journey. Within four miles we reach the Fort and see in front a line of new tents; and on the west side, new barracks; and within the square around which the buildings are placed we see cannon mounted on their carriages, and stacks of muskets with the bright bayonets glittering in the sunlight, with here and there a sentry pacing to and fro, his musket, with fixed bayonet, on his shoulder. But few men are seen stirring at the Fort. On the meadows near the river we see the dragoon horses and draught mules grazing under guard of a few soldiers. The Fort seems a dull enough place. I had rather be a broken miner than a soldier; rather rove free—even though hard up and hungry—among the rugged and wild mountains, than be cooped "on the fat of the land" in any fort or city. But soldiers do not suffer a derangement of the digestive organs from having had the "fat o' the land" crammed upon their reluctant stomachs; the "fat" they see most of is "bacon fat."

One mile below the Fort, we reached Buckland's station; and here, having made five miles since noon, we determined to halt and recruit our exhausted energies. Sam's well-water is very good. Having recruited, it was decided, as the only known and possible means for keeping in so desirable a state, to camp and stay all night. Being unanimous in this conclusion, we crossed the river on a toll-bridge, owned by Mr. Buckland, and encamped in a most beautiful grove of cottonwood trees growing in an open and smooth lawn-like meadow, affording a splendid shade and shelter for ourselves and excellent grass for our animals. We lack canteens in our outfit, and as "Sam Buckland's" is a place of resort for thirsty soldiers, we soon struck a pair of our good Uncle's men, who "sometimes drink" and who agreed to bring down such stray canteens as might be laying round loose, sometime during the evening. In the evening they brought three; two good new ones and one the worse for service. We gave a dollar each for the good ones, and our Uncle's men found the third one so good that it held two dollars worth of whisky—but I should like to bet $50 that it was not good enough to hold it till the next morning. Sam had just slaughtered a beef, and, as we had nary robin, we seized the opportunity to secure a supply of "meat victual." Having some three hours on our hands after encamping, we went banging about the grove, at doves, larks, black-birds, chipmunks and the like large water-fowl. We started in with eight pounds of shot—grand result, two doves, one lark, one black-and-bloody-bird, one yaller-hammer (so called from being "yaller" and having claws,) 00 ducks, 000 rabbits. Our brilliant afternoon's shooting having exhausted our stock of shot, we were obliged to purchase a supply of "Sam," and after getting our new stock, it was unanimously resolved that henceforth no man should fire upon any species of game, without having at least one eye open, and not till after taking a most deliberate and deadly aim.

A little before sundown a party of Piutes, going to Walker river, crossed the river and finding near the road the entrails of the beef Mr. Buckland had killed in the morning, the circumstance seemed to decide them in camping in our grove. I have heard how women on the plains would "pitch in" and load themselves and the wagons with saleratus; can conceive what a rush a party of juveniles would make on suddenly finding themselves in a valley where all the rocks were rock-candy; have seen turkeys run after grasshoppers; but I never saw, thought or heard of any running, rushing or "pitching in" equal to that exhibited by these hungry Indians on "striking" the above mentioned "indications" of a "full meal." They seemed to strive to see which should secure the greatest share of the precious plunder; knives, teeth and nails were used with equal readiness and dexterity, and the only pause they made in their work was to lick their fingers. In an incredibly short space of time the offal was rent into shreds and disposed of in piles which were carried to camp, and that night they had a grand feast. They borrowed a large camp-kettle of Mr. Buckland, and with tripe-boiling, tripe-roasting on sticks, and tripe-sputtering in the embers, sung songs and feasted until a late hour at night. These "noble red men of the scrub-pines," begged nothing of us but tobacco. They had no need of grub, for besides a large stock of tripe, they had three horses packed with flour and other stores which they had bought at Virginia City. One of their horses was a really splendid and valuable animal; a bright bay, with a coat as glossy as satin, limbs as clean and straight as those of a deer, and a step as elastic as that of a young Queen of May. Bob, whose idol is a fine horse, tried his best to buy or trade for this Queen of the deserts; but the Indian having her in charge, said she was owned by "Captain Virginia," and "he no sell 'em." Spreading our blankets under the lee of a clump of buffalo bushes, we turned in for the night, suffering but slight annoyance from mosquitos, and hushed to sleep by the measured plash of a huge water wheel, for irrigation, which revolved leisurely on the river side near our camp. Thus ended the second day, on our arduous journey with our little party of hardy and unterrified explorers.

In the morning, after the Indians and sun were up, we arose. We did not go out with the guns as usual, neither did we try to tempt the appetite of Carson's epicurean trout—when trout won't bite at buttered slap-jacks, you may as well wind up your line, throw down your rod, and hang up your hook along "wi'd de fiddle and de bow." Like Joe Bowers, we had "some orful feelins" this morning; there was before us twelve miles of desert—and we were gloomy. In view of our "orful feelins" and the desert—principally the desert—we had Tom go over the river to Sam's and mix a bottle of cocktails. After cocktails and breakfast, we saddled our animals, and having filled our canteens at the river, mounted and set off toward the Well. The Well is a new station on the Overland Mail route twelve miles from Buckland's. Between Buckland's and the Well, we traveled over a level, sandy, gravelly plain, destitute of water or grass, and having at some time formed the bottom of a large lake. Distinct water marks are to be seen on both sides of the plain, on the inclosing hills at an elevation of an hundred feet above the level of the valley. There are four distinct, horizontal lines, showing as many different levels at which the waters of the lake have stood.

About noon we reached the Well, and found, besides a well of very good water, a canvas house in course of construction, and one young white man. The business of the young white man was, as we discovered, to take pay for water at rate of two bits per animal served, and the house was intended to contain fiery fluids for bipeds of the genus homo. Near the station is excellent feed for stock, and we stopped here to noon and let our animals feast on the luxuriant bunch-grass. Here we were first forced to gather greasewood for our fire, and Tom, being misled by the name, perhaps, traveled off nearly a mile across the plain, momentarily expecting to come upon a grove of large tallowy trees. When he discovered the fact of greasewood being thorny shrubs, the trunks of which were about the size of his little finger, he declared "down upon the infernal prickly yarb." We were obliged to camp on the white, hot and glaring sand, under the burning meridian sun; and by the time our coffee and steaks were cooked we were in about the same fix. That meal we ate "in the sweat of our brows." In the afternoon, the valley in which we were traveling gradually narrowed, and bearing round to the left, at length opened into a round basin of considerable size, which presented every appearance of having once been the bed of a lake. Here some men were at work sinking a well. The shaft was down some thirty feet, but as yet there was no indication of water. Crossing the basin we struck into a narrow crooked valley, which zigzagged among the great rocky hills, and in one place traveled for near a mile, over a flat, literally covered with beautiful specimens of vitreous chalcedony of every form and color.

Coming out at length on the brink of an immense cañon we had a most magnificent view of the Sink of the Carson, or Carson Lake. The Lake is about sixty miles in circumference, nearly circular in form, and has every appearance of having at one time been more than a thousand times its present size; indeed there is every indication of there having been a body of water in this region, eighty miles in length by fifty miles in width, connected by various channels with the dry lakes we had been traversing ever since leaving Fort Churchill, and with the sink of the Humboldt. The Indians have a tradition that this whole country was once covered by water, and no person having seen the country, can doubt the fact. From our elevated position, there appeared to be a border of grass on the western shore of the Lake, of a rod or two in width; but on the eastern shore, naught but rocks and sand. The mountains enclosing the Lake and basin on the west and south, are volcanic, and composed principally of vesicular lava stained of a reddish hue by iron; on the east, the mountains are composed of sedimentary rock capped with the same species of lava, though of a darker color. The opposite hills, from our stand point on the brink of the cañon, are of great height, but apparently as smooth as a lawn. They are upheaved in groups and present the regular rounded form, and that peculiarity of scallop and indentation which everywhere distinguishes hills of volcanic origin. The form of these hills was so beautiful and peculiar that we halted, and for some minutes gazed upon and admired them. Tom swore that, should an artist make an exact picture of the group "he would be hooted at for cutting his mountains up into mole-hills with quirks and scallops." Before descending to the cañon we took a long and steady look for the Sink Station, which we knew to be near the margin of the Lake, but the distance was too great for us to distinguish it.

About half-way down the cañon I found myself lagging behind my comrades, and putting spurs to my horse, started on a brisk gallop to overtake them. I had gone but a few rods before I found myself on the brink of a steep, though short descent, and at about the first downward plunge my horse came down on his nose, flat as a flounder, and your correspondent!—Whar, O! whar was he?—Rolling down the hill at locomotive speed with a canteen of water on one side to thump him, a revolver on the other to punch him, a double-barrel gun grasped in his arms to bump his nose, and numerous thorny 'yarbs" in the vicinity to "scratch out both his eyes." The horse, too, came rolling after me, as though not satisfied with being a colt, he was determined to go the whole figure and become a revolver. I lodged against a clump of greasewood and the good steed landed about six feet above me against another. My first care was to get out of range of the horse, should he be inclined to continue his career as a revolver, and my next to examine myself for broken bones. Finding myself sound—with the exception of divers scratches on the face—I proceeded to get my horse upon his feet, and finding his pins O.K., mounted and overtook my comrades without their having the slightest suspicion that I had been enacting a part not in the bills.

Shortly after overtaking the boys, Bob, who was ahead, started up a hare. Tom struck out into the bushes to head him off and get a shot, while I, being too fat to give chase, kept on the even tenor of my way, which, as good luck would have it, also proved to be the way of the hare; for when Tom rushed in ahead of him, he fetched a circumbendabus and cast anchor within about twenty paces of my position, when bringing old No. 9 to my face, I took a long and deadly squint toward the base of his ears, and when No. 9 spoke—why, that 'are hare had ceased to exist--was an inanimate, dead rabbit. Thus had I the name and the glory of killing the first hare during the trip. I will give Tom credit for harboring no envious feelings towards me; for when he learned that the hare was actually dead, he cried out in a joyful, exultant tone, "Well done! Bravo!" I now began to think that killing hare was my forte, and was no longer content to jog along the beaten road, but branched out and, as Tom would say, cut divers scallops among the greasewood and sage bushes for the purpose of finding a second victim on which to level deadly No. 9. At length the victim started up; No. 9 was leveled; No. 9 spoke; but that infernal rabbit didn't seem to hear her voice. It was making good time when I shot; after shooting—time was better; indeed, there was a "vast accumulation" of speed. Having heard it said that a hare always runs fastest with its leg broken, on joining Tom and Bob, I reported the above mentioned rabbit as having escaped by means of a badly shattered leg. I believe, as hunters, we took the most sure and deadly aim of any set of fellows that ever went out into the wilderness. I cannot call to mind a single instance where we fired on any animal or other "beast of prey," that we did not break a leg, riddle an ear, or at least cut a few hairs from its tail—in some few instances we even slaughtered them outright. Every fowl of the air, or water, on which we drew a bead, had its wing fractured or lost the majority of its tail-feathers; in short, we proved ourselves to be the very crackest of crack marks-men.

We reached the Sink Station a little before sundown, and unsaddling our animals, drove them out to the margin of the lake to graze. The Station consists of a one-story house, surrounded by an adobe wall enclosing a plot of ground some six rods square. This wall is eight feet high, and three feet thick at the bottom by one at the top, with loopholes for muskets. The stables are also within the walls. This Station is on the west side of the lake and within a few rods of the shore. It is a stopping place, both for the Overland Mail Line and the Pony Express. There being nothing in the fire-wood line to be found at this station, the keeper very kindly invited us to come into his kitchen and make use of his stove or anything else we might need. This politeness on his part so warmed Tom's heart toward him, that he brought forth our basket-flask and gave him a "pull" at the cocktail. Station-keeper departed—smacking his lips—within the walls of the fortification, and very shortly after came forth a red-nosed individual:

"Have you sich a thing as any kind of speerits 'long o' you?" queried red-nosed, etc.

The fact was that "speerit" wasn't very abundant with us. Tom heaved a most heart-rending sigh, and replied "A very little."

Red-nosed individ' began to looked scared, but mustered courage to say in a most doleful, coaxing voice: "I've been out in the hot sun all day, and drank a heap o' nasty alkerli water, and now I feel bad in my stummich—a leetle speerit might do me a power o' good."

"Ye-a-as," replied Tom, "that's bad. We've been traveling all day in the hot sun and not a bite to eat to speak of, since yesterday noon, and have drank several canteens full of the worst alkali water we have seen, and now we ain't well ourselves."

As Tom finished this hint, he suddenly clapped his hand to his side, threw his head back, shut his eyes and opened his mouth as though he had experienced a sudden dart of pain; while I clapped both hands upon my bread-basket, hung down my head, shut my eyes and ground my teeth.

For a moment red-nosed etc. gazed upon our solemn visages and looked frightened; however his thirst and courage soon revived.

"If you could only spare me the least drop," persisted red-nosed individ', "I do think it would be good for my stummick."

"Well," said Tom, "if a very little will do you any good, I suppose we might spare it."

Red-nose etc. is glad from ear to ear. He receives the precious flask; inserts the top of it just below the finis of his blazing nose; elevates the bottom. As the bottom of the flask goes up, the pair of jaws belonging to Tom and I expand. He still elevates the bottom of the flask; continues to elevate it gently—his ears work up and down slowly—nostrils expanded—features rigid. Bottom of flask still slowly raising. Gentle elevation and depression of the ears; nervous twitching about nostrils; the rigid corrugations near the eye relax and we catch a faint glimpse of the twinkling pupil; cheeks and neck growing a deeper purple; great distention about the windpipe. He can hold out no longer—the bottom of the flask lowers, he withdraws it from the loving embrace of his lips and heaves a deep, long-drawn sigh—Ditto Tom and I. Red-nosed individual still holds the flask in his left hand, and—to Tom and I alarmingly near his mouth; looks as though about to make a second attack, but Tom stretches forth his hand and red-nosed etc., relinquishes his hold, heaves another sigh and without looking toward either of us says, "Thank'ee," turneth on his heel and departeth. Tom shook the flask, took off the top and looked into it; and I shook the flask, took off the top and looked into it. We both sighed; neither of us spoke—our hearts were too full for words.

Having prepared supper in the Station kitchen and spread our humble fare upon the kitchen table, we drew up stools and benches and while disposing of our stewed rabbit and coffee, listened to the discourse of the "Keeper," who gave us a description of a visit to Silver Hill and the prospects of the miners there, and also of a most wonderful region somewhere to the south of Sand Springs, where was a creek whose sands "glittered with gold." To reach this desirable spot there was a great desert to cross and but one white man had ever visited the place. However, a party of four men had "started two days before, and we would soon know the truth of the matter." We found a splendid place for our lay out in the hay-yard, and slept that night "on downy beds of ease." We had traveled fifteen miles since leaving the Well—our biggest half-day's travel. The water near the shore of the Lake is bad, and to get water fit to use it is necessary to go out some distance from the shore. At this station they have built a sort of pier extending some two hundred yards into the Lake, yet the water is very warm and has a strong taste of decayed tule. Snipe and curlew are the principal game birds found on the shores of the Lake at this season. The curlew are the common brown species, but the snipe, most numerous, are of a peculiar build and color; the male bird mainly white with a bright yellow breast and black wings, and long, slender, red legs; the female, white with black wings—The Flute name for this species of snipe is tee-whoe-tee. Tom secured several good specimens of these birds.

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CHAPTER II

The lake shore—A stampede—Bagging game—Indian villages—Cheap style of building—The fig leaf—In puris naturalibus—Piute weakness for the weed—Indian dogs—Parting huzzah—Our young Indian—Another village—Doc. Redman's—Our camp—Scarcity of firewood—Fishing—Indian luck—Trading for fish—Indian visitors—Snipe shooting—The little blind girl and her sister—Fish for breakfast—The water carriers—Start for the Lower Sink—Scouting for hare--A "Yaller" Indian—Senoritas—An egg trade—Under way—Indian village—Meadows and a second village.

THE next morning our animals were nowhere to be seen, but the station keeper informed us that there was a large herd of horses some four miles up the Lake, and no doubt, ours were with them; so, Bob and one of the hands from the Station went out and drove down the whole herd, ours among them, and forced them within the walls of the fortification, when such as were needed were lassoed. They have a few very good horses, but the majority are broken down. To reach the range of the mountains in which we intended prospecting it was necessary for us to pass around the Sink to the northern shore. We were looking more for coal and quicksilver than for gold or silver, and intended striking the mountains at a point opposite the Lower Sink, where, according to a map of the country made for me by an Indian, there was coal cropping out on the side of a hill. In traveling along the southwestern shore of the Lake, we had the good fortune to bag several snipe and curlew. Ducks were extremely few, and wild, and of geese we saw none. The shore of the Lake, on this side, is perfectly flat, and close to the water is formed of a clayey sediment, covered by a snowy white alkaline efflorescence. The water on the margin is free from grass and of a reddish hue, most disagreeably suggestive of alkali; but at the distance of a few rods from shore it is more clear and pure, nourishing a most affluent growth of tule which forms a belt of near half-a-mile in width from the shore.

On reaching the southern extremity of the lake we found the shore perpendicular, and the banks, ten to twenty feet in height, formed of broken lava of a bright red color and an alkaline clay. The shore was on the same general level but cut up by hundreds of gutters, ten to fifteen feet in depth, with very steep banks, and as our trail passed near the lake where the channels were deepest and most numerous, our little train presented an appearance very similar to that of a fleet of small craft riding the waves of a rough sea—plunging out of sight in the troughs or rising to view on the crests—and for a distance of six miles our animals were constantly assuming the perpendicular—now heads down and tails up, and now tails down and heads up. On reaching the eastern shore we found the same belt of tule, and of the same width as on the west side; although we could not see it when looking across the Lake from the Station and had supposed the eastern shore barren. About noon we came in sight of a number of Piute huts, and on reaching them were immediately surrounded by the entire population, old and young, male and female, nude and clad, all uttering the same cry viz: "tobacco."

After passing a few scattering huts we traveled about one mile when we passed a small town of some half dozen noobees or shanties and saw, some distance ahead, a larger village. This small town being off the trail we made no halt. Several women rose up from the ground and stood gazing after us as we passed, and some of the men raised themselves upon their elbows while a dozen of wild looking children scampered half-way out to the trail and mounting the little sand knolls stood with their long dark locks tossing in the wind gazing after the Waamoogenas (Americans) . Their habitations are merely shades to protect them from the sun.—They are made by planting willow brush and reeds in the ground, in a semi-circular form, a southern wall for a shade. There is no roof. Some of these walls are portable, being woven of reed and flag in the shape of a large mat. The women build all the houses. They generally build at the distance of half a mile from the Lake, on account of the swarms of mosquitos found near the water. Long before we reached the large village, which contained some fifteen or twenty noobees, the inhabitants had spied us, as we could see by their gathering into groups and pointing toward us. The little ones darted from hut to hut, and there was great commotion in the town. The trail ran close alongside the town, and by the time we had arrived opposite, all of the male inhabitants were drawn up along the road, ready to besiege us for tobacco. Some of the middle aged men had shirts and breeches, but the old men and boys were all very ragged. Many of the boys were as naked as when they came into the world! But they had no notion of missing the show on that account, and instead of taking shelter behind those who were more presentable, crowded into the front ranks. I saw several boys, ten or twelve years of age with belts or sashes an inch or two in width tied about their waists, who were otherwise stark naked; some had, in addition to the belt, moccasins on their feet and several strings of beads and shells about their necks.

"I see you have come out in your ornaments, Mose?"

"I haint come out in anything elst!"

This naked, ragged rabble charged upon us in a body, all extending their brown arms and yelling "tobacco! tobacco! give tobacco! Capitan, me smoke, tobacco me! tobacco, tobacco! Me gooda man, me, tobacco, me!" Several old men were in the crowd, grey-headed, tottering old fellows, with blear and watery eyes, skinny necks and breast bones, and ribs almost destitute of flesh, who held out their long, hooked, bony fingers, and opening their toothless jaws grinned horribly, crying "tobacco me! heap tobacco me!" We concluded to give each of these old fellows a small piece and let the young ones go without. But it was no go. Having once found out that we had tobacco and seen that we would give it away, there was no such thing as getting away from these good natured rascals until each one had his bit of the weed. They laughed, shouted and held on to the bridles of our horses, our stirrups, our legs, and saddle skirts, all stretching out their hands yelling for tobacco. Even boys five or six years of age pushed, pulled and begged quite as lustily as the older ones for "heap tobacco!" None of the women came out from the huts, but gathering in groups in the centre of the village they laughed, chatted, pointed at and criticised the Waamoogena devils. A score of Indian dogs, more coyote than dog, took up a position midway between us and the village, on the summit of the hillocks of sand, and with their short, pointed ears pricked forward, bayed and yelled at us, greatly assisting to swell the Babel of confusion. Having given away all the tobacco we intended to spare the crowd, we suddenly put spurs to our horses, scattering the crowd right and left as we bounded forward. This they took in good part. In fact they seemed rather to admire the move by which we escaped their importunities as they set up a loud huzzah, tossing their naked arms above their heads and capering about. We returned the shout, and taking off our hats waved them a farewell.

After having traveled about half-a-mile, I looked back and saw a slender, active Indian boy, naked except a breech-clout, bounding along after us like a young antelope. He ran up along side of me and handed back the piece of tobacco I had given him, saying —"No want 'im, heap sick." He opened his mouth and showed me that his mouth was perfectly raw, and his lips covered with white blisters. As he seemed bound to go along with us we set him to driving the jackass, at which he was greatly delighted. We were now traveling across a level piece of meadow land covered with excellent grass, and passed another small village lying to our right, on the margin of the meadow. The inhabitants raised up from behind their shades and stood gazing after us. We started up several large flocks of snipe and curlew near some ponds in the meadows, and seeing Tom go after them, some of the Indians came down from the huts to assist him in getting a shot, but only served to frighten the game out of gunshot! A mile ahead we could see the house of Doctor Redman and we laid our course toward it, as there we expected to camp for the night. This station is on a slough (called a slough but it is the Carson river), which empties into the Lower Sink some fifteen miles below, running northeast. Mr. Redman has a toll-bridge on this stream for the accommodation of emigrants taking the cut-off from Sand Springs to Ragtown.

It was about three o'clock when we reached the slough and choosing a smooth green patch of ground near a clump of willows, we pitched our camp and drove our animals out on a sort of an island, near the Slough, to graze. The distance from the Sink Station where we had started from in the morning, to Doc. Redman's is about twenty-five miles, and not having eaten since morning we began to think of supper; but just here arose a difficulty—there was no wood to cook with—no sage brush, no greasewood, not even boise de cache, or buffalo chips; nothing but grass. In this strait Tom conceived the brilliant idea of going over to the station and borrowing an armful of sagebrush, and soon our supper was on the table—at the first tap of the gong we "sailed in." Seeing the Indians with several fine strings of fish we thought there would be no harm in having a little sport in that line ourselves, and Tom having got out his hook and baited it with the heart of a snipe went down to the bridge and angled for an hour—without getting a nibble. He then caught a lot of grasshoppers and tried it again with the same excellent success. In spite of all we could do we couldn't catch a fish, or even get a nibble while the Indians were having first-rate luck all about us. We tried to find out the kind of bait they used but they kept their secret and laughed at us. Seeing that we were behind the age I gave my hook to a lusty bummer who was loitering about the camp and told him to catch me some fish; he went down the river a short distance and soon returned with four nice ones. Although he was absent but a few minutes, about the first thing he did on returning was to inform me that the exertion necessary to catch "so heap many" fish had caused him to feel terribly hoggadi (hungry), and he seemed to think that nothing short of half a loaf of bread could make us even. He didn't get quite as much, and was about to go away without returning my hook, when I caused him to halt and deliver, which he considered a small-potato proceeding, and expressed himself as being much disgusted with me. Having now about half enough fish for breakfast, I kept my eye on the market for another lot. Several strings were offered for four bits each. I offered two bits (more than they were worth), but the fishermen all seemed leagued against us and all swore they must have four bits, or "no sell 'em;" but at last I struck the right man and for ten percussion caps secured a four bit lot—we had fish for breakfast. Quite a number of Indians came in from the valleys we had passed, and others crossed the river from a town on the opposite side, to see what they could beg, to find out what we had, where we were going, and what we looked like. Fifteen or twenty were stretched on the grass about our camp all the afternoon, smoking, laughing and chatting to us and among themselves. They were anxious to learn to speak our language. Toward evening Tom took his gun and our little sore-mouthed Indian (he had no name, the Indians said he was not big enough to have a name—"heap name poco tiempo") and went out after snipe. He was out till after dark and only shot one. He had "tried his best; the little Injun tried and a big Injun tried; but heap no ketch um snipe" About sundown an old Indian came over the river, bringing his two little girls, to see the Waamoogenas. These children were about ten years of age, slender, well formed, and lithe as willow wands. Their features were regular and finely chiseled, and their jet black locks hung loosely down their backs, reaching below their waists. Their complexion was a pale nut-brown, which so well became their features and style that one would scarce wish to see them whiter. They were the most timid little things I ever saw and on approaching with their parent came forward so cautiously and with such fearful steps that had we suddenly raised to our feet I have no doubt they would have darted away like a pair of fawns.

At first, on coming up to camp, we could not even get a look at them, for the timorous things would hang down their heads and retreat behind their father every time we looked toward them. The tallest one had a pair of the most beautiful eyes I ever beheld—no little piercing gimblet eyes, but large, full and dancing. When she smiled or was pleased, they flashed and sparkled like diamonds. I almost felt like stealing the wild little beauty. I know ladies in California who would almost give a fortune to possess such a bright little Indian maiden. The other little girl had lost her right eye, otherwise she was quite as handsome as her sister; in fact they looked enough alike to be twins—perhaps were. The parents seemed to make a distinction between them on account of the poor little thing being disfigured, for while the blind girl had no clothing except a strip of an old flour sack tied around her waist, and no ornament but a bit of clam shell hung in her ear; the other had a buckskin shirt trimmed with beads and tassels, and her neck and breast were covered with beads. But her sister seemed to love her none the less, and the two little ones sat close by the side of their father—a stout, broad-faced, good-natured old fellow who was seated a la Turk on the sward—holding each other by the hand. No children could have behaved better than these wild, untutored, and almost naked children of the desert; indeed, some white children I have seen might learn a lesson of modesty from these Indian girls. They did not romp about and yell for this thing or that, pull and haul at everything within their reach, none disobey their parent—a single word was all that was necessary from their father to insure prompt obedience. They sat near their father for over an hour, leaning their heads together and talking occasionally in low tones, and never offered to stray off or get in the way. I asked the tallest to come to me and let me see her beads, when she hung down her head bashfully and seemed to hesitate, but at a word from her father got up and came forward timidly, and while I pretended to examine them, turned her head aside and cast timorous glances at me from the corners of her eyes. On my telling her that she was a good little girl and that her beads were very pretty, she looked up for an instant, her eyes dancing with pleasure, and smiled gratefully, then resumed her seat beside her sister. Some consider these people of a nature so gross as to not be susceptible to much feeling, but they feel an insult or slight as acutely as a white man, and are often quite as unsuccessful in hiding their feelings. Thoughtlessly and unintentionally I wounded the feelings of the poor little blind girl. In asking her father how it happened that she lost her eye, not being sufficiently acquainted with the language to express myself with proper delicacy, I spoke of her having a staah you poo-ech, (literally, a bad eye), and on the instant the little creature dropped her head upon her breast, and the tears started from her eyes and ran slowly down her cheeks, and she scarce raised her face during the rest of her story. Her grief did not escape the attention of her handsome sister, who on seeing her sadness passed her little brown arm about her waist and whispered words of comfort. After finishing our supper we gave our little sore-mouthed Indian his supper on a tin pan, but instead of sitting down and devouring it all himself he divided it with his friends, giving all hands, old and young, a taste, reserving but a few mouthfuls for himself. It was in vain that we gave him a fresh supply, telling him to eat it himself. As soon as he received it, it was distributed among the crowd. About eight o'clock we spread our blankets and retired—to dreamland.

About sunrise we were astir. Bob went out to look up our stock, and Tom and I got breakfast ready. Of this breakfast the fish we had procured the evening previous, was the big item; but we were a good deal disappointed when we came to eat them. They were soft and tasteless. Whilst we were at breakfast a number of squaws came down from the nearest village for water. They carried great willow bottles on their backs, suspended on a strap passing across the forehead, and on their heads, inverted dippers of the same material, for filling them. Both bottle and dipper were rendered water-tight by a coating of pitch and slimy clay. These jugs or bottles would hold from five to ten gallons, and were of a perfect jug-shape, with a tapering neck, not over two inches in diameter; on either side was a stout handle, in which the strap by which it is carried was fastened and throughout they were neatly and substantially constructed. Some of these squaws were young and passably pretty; others, old and hideously ugly—all of the old women are ugly, owing to the amount of drudgery they perform and numerous hardships they endure, and also the miserable quality and often small quantity of food they are able to procure. Several naked children, also, come down to the water with their mothers. Some of these children carried brothers and sisters on their backs who were apparently larger than themselves, as their feet almost dragged on the ground. Such as were not laden with this species of live freight, carried small water-bottles. They come for water in the morning, for the reason, that it is then coolest in the river. The men are never seen to carry either wood or water—not that they would consider themselves disgraced by the act itself, for they are always ready and willing to do such things for the Waamoogenas, but then they consider it to be the business of the women to wait on them and attend to all their wants, and it never enters their heads to relieve them of any part of the domestic drudgery. We got a pretty early start, and for a short distance rode along the bank of the Slough, which really does not possess a single feature which the word "Slough" would suggest, being a stream some sixty feet in width with a tolerably rapid current and with banks always perpendicular on one or both sides, and some eight to ten feet in height. There is no grass along this stream. The barren, sandy plain comes quite down to the abrupt banks, and the only vegetable-life visible is in the scattering clumps of sage-brush and greasewood. After having followed the river a short distance it suddenly bore off to the left in a great curve, and, as to have followed its course would have taken us several miles out of our true course, we took a cut-off across a desert to strike the river again near where it entered the Lower Sink—or "Dee-Neek" (big lake) of the Piutes. The Upper Sink they speak of as the "Ee-waah Dee-Neek"—the "great big lake." Tom and Bob took the guns and rode off to the left to follow the course of the river, to hunt jackass rabbits, while I with the burro trotting before me, jogged on across the desert, following an Indian trail. On my left, several miles away, I could trace the course of the Slough by the more verdant appearance of the bushes near it, and by an occasional clump of willows appearing above the gray foliage of the sage bushes, clothing the level waste of alkaline clay and sand. On my right, at the distance of some ten miles are the mountains I have several times before mentioned as being formed of stratified rocks. The range is clothed sparsely with pine nut trees, and runs in a NE, and SW course. Some of the highest peaks must be near three thousand feet above the basin of the Sink. Northward, the dry, level basin of the lake extended for thirty or forty—perhaps fifty miles, and seemed bordered by a ragged range of dark, smoky mountains. I traveled until almost noon, without seeing or hearing anything of Tom and Bob, except a few shots fired by them when they first started out, and began to think they must have struck a rich deposit, a sort of pocket where rabbits cropped out under every sage bush, and that they would in all likelihood come in loaded down with game. I allowed the burro to slacken his gait, and for an hour traveled at a snail's pace. Still the hunters were not to be seen. I had just determined on whipping up and hurrying on to the head of the lake to look out a camp, when they hove in sight, far out on the plain, coming on a swinging gallop over the sage brush flats like a pair of wild Piutes. When the mighty hunters came up, I found they had secured one rabbit, and wounded some thirty or forty so dangerously that they unanimously agreed that it was very doubtful about their recovery. Of course I said nothing, it would have been very ungrateful in me, and besides I might want to wound some myself, shortly. Just a short distance below where the slough begins to widen out into the Sink, we found the lake bordered by very extensive meadows of excellent grass, and at the edge of the meadow a new, unfinished, adobe house, built by parties who have located a ranch here. As our animals were tired and hungry, we decided to camp at this house, as the walls would afford some shelter from the scorching rays of the meridian sun, and accordingly unpacked and unsaddled, though the water, for drinking, and culinary purposes was bad—warm, and with a strong alkali twang.

Although when we camped, not an Indian was to be seen, yet, like buzzards, they soon began to drop down upon us—"first a speck, then an Indian." The first to arrive was a tall, half naked fellow, who, Moses like, came up out of the bulrushes; his head being first visible at the distance of a quarter of a mile, black as an ink-ball, bobbing up and down above the rushes and presenting so strange an appearance, that for sometime we were at a loss what to make of it, being rather inclined to consider it some strange species of game. Our visitor, on first arriving, was covered with a bright yellow dust or pollen showered on him from the rushes, or other plants he had passed through, and had something the look of a great bumble bee just emerging from a pumpkin blossom. Soon after coming, that is, after a keen survey of our faces, he casually informed us that he felt as though he could take some refreshments—"me heap hoggadi." We made him take a pail and two canteens, and wade out some three hundred yards into the lake for water before giving him the coveted "biscuit." Three squaws now hove in sight each with a huge basket of conical form suspended upon her back. They had been gathering the seeds of a species of water-dock, and of various grasses growing in the marshes near the mouth of the slough. At first they passed our camp, stepping very quick and timidly, but on seeing the "Bumble-bee," and one or two more members of the Piute persuasion already at home in our camp, they set down their baskets and returned toward our cook-shop. The leader was an old and horribly ugly squaw, with inflamed and watery eyes, skinny neck and jaws, a hooked nose, and "stake-and-ridered teeth" or fangs, naked legs, arms and breast, and grizzly, matted hair (not locks), standing out around her head, like the brush roof of a miner's cabin. Following timidly behind this nightmare hag, were two young Indian maidens about sixteen years of age, whom this fearfully ugly old woman claimed as her daughters. The old woman, who was ugly enough not to have feared the devil himself, was also quite timid, and halted when within three rods of camp, casting fearful glances toward us, evidently half inclined to beat a retreat; but being reassured by my calling out to her that we were peezhah-you Waamoogenas (good Americans), she came forward about another rod, and again halted and seated herself upon the ground, never for a single instant removing her fixed stare from our faces. The señoritas, who only occasionally cast timorous glances toward us, crept close up to the old woman, and seated themselves in line behind her. These girls were the handsomest we saw during the trip. Their eyes were large, jet black, and sparkling with intelligence; their faces regular ovals, with well formed, slightly aquiline noses; lips full and beautifully arched, and slender necks; their hair, as black and glossy as a raven's wing, was ornamented with bands of shells and flowed down their backs below their waists. They were, however, dressed in a mess of old dirty rags that scarce concealed their persons; their arms and breasts were bare, except a band of bead work about the wrist and above the elbow, and a mass of beads suspended from the neck and falling down over the bosom; their scanty skirts scarce reached below the middle of the thigh, and the uneasiness they exhibited on this account showed that they possessed no inconsiderable degree of modesty. Their limbs were round, slender and straight, with very small hands and feet, and delicate, well turned ankles and wrists, in form, tall and slender, exhibiting in every motion the pliancy of a reed. We gave them and the old hag, their mother, some bread, with which they seemed much pleased, and immediately returned to their baskets and shouldering them departed for their village, a mile further down the lake.

These girls were not darker than many Spanish women I have seen, and, properly dressed, would have attracted attention in any ball-room for their good looks; but living as they will be obliged to, in ten years they will perhaps be quite as ugly as their mother. An old Indian who came into camp just as we were getting dinner, brought thirteen duck's eggs which he wished to trade for "tohotacovah"—flour. Not knowing how highly we might value them, he determined to ask enough in the outset, and pretended to think that he ought to have at least half a sack for the eggs. We were anxious to get the eggs, which the Indian was not slow to perceive, and he immediately conjectured that he could get almost any amount of flour for them. The boys coaxed and swore by turns, but could only get the price down to five pint cupfuls—here the Indian planted his foot and remained firm. I told the boys the only way to get them at a fair price was to pretend that we cared but little for them, and that half of them were bad. Hitherto I had said but little in the trade, but now I came up and ordered the Indian to clear out with his rotten eggs and told the boys that we had but little flour—which was true—and none to trade for eggs, giving the Piute to understand the same. About one minute afterwards the eggs were sputtering in our frying pan, and the Indian had one cupful of flour tied up in his handkerchief, and was on his way to carry joy and pancakes into the midst of his family. Another Indian now came in with two young, down-covered snipes—"papooses," as the Indian styled them. Tom immediately discovered a weakness for these which the Indian quickly perceived, and, another Piute secured a pint of flour with which to delight his numerous family. About two o'clock we got under way, and soon after passed the village where the old woman and her pretty daughters lived. We found them moving their habitation further out into the desert on account of the troublesomeness of the mosquitos near the lake. Squaws and children were passing back and forth, in a line, like so many ants, while the bucks were loitering about, apparently not at all concerned.

One big, fat, lazy fellow, the "capitan" of the town, was roasting under the almost meridian sun, in a great military overcoat of blue cloth and numerous capes, without being aware of what was the matter with him. Some of the men started out toward me with the intention of begging tobacco, but I whipped up and shouted—"Carooh-oo-you," and they wheeled about apparently a good deal disgusted with me. Bob and Tom were off toward the lake looking for rabbits and snipe the greater part of the afternoon. I jogged along alone, considering the exercise necessary to cause the jackass to locomote properly, quite sufficient for a fat man, especially whilst traveling over this waste of white, glaring, heated sand drifts under a blazing sun. At length, to my infinite satisfaction, the trail curved toward the flat shore of the lake and entered a broad meadow covered with a luxuriant coat of grass three feet in height. This was a great relief to my eyes after having been exposed to the burning refractions of the sun on the desert, and the air was much more cool and refreshing, laden as it was with the scent of green and growing grass, rushes, and water plants. Late in the afternoon the trail left the meadows and crossed a promontory of desert which extended out into the marshes and on which was a second Indian town of a few lodges. I rode up and asked an old man if the water was good further down the lake, and being told that it was for a few miles, rode on to find a camping place, fearing the boys might go so far down as to get beyond the good water. Two boys left the village and went with me to show me where the best water was to be found. The road soon crossed the strip of sand and sage and again entered the meadow land. After traveling something over a mile, I found a spring, and seeing Tom and Bob coming concluded if the water was good, as there was excellent grass, to pitch our camp here. I told one of the Indian boys to taste the water and see if it was fit for use; he instantly spit it out of his mouth exclaiming—"Staah-youpahi"—bad water—and we continued on down the shore for another mile to where our Indian boy said good water could be obtained by going out into the lake for it. We pitched our camp on a little sand knoll on the edge of the desert, which we found to be the site of an old Indian town. The soil here was so loose that our animals sank in it to their knees and plunged about as though it were a mire hole of quicksand; the earth was crusted over with a white coating of alkali, and the surface soil, for some feet in depth, apparently, was formed of an inpalpable powder of alkaline clay and very fine, white sand. We had a fine, soft place to spread our blankets, and when that is said all is said, for there was nothing else that we needed; no wood, no shade, nothing but a smooth alkaline soil, heated to such a degree that we might almost have baked our slap-jacks on it. The only wood we were able to find here was a few scrubby greasewood bushes about the size of my little finger and most of it green at that. We could not bake our bread in loaves and it was a matter of no little difficulty to bake slap-jacks or boil our coffee. We found the water as good as we could expect so low down upon the lake, but infinitely worse than at Redman's or along the upper part of the Slough—which was there by no means good, being muddy and having a strong taste of decaying vegetation with a touch of alkali. Our Indian made himself generally useful, going out into the lake after the water, looking after the stock, getting brush for the fire, etc. At night the mosquitos came off from the lake and bordering marshes, in clouds, causing us to pass a most restless night—even fire and smoke would not cause them to cease their persecution. Tom here secured some birds of rare plumage and species.

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CHAPTER III

WE DID NOT sleep much during the first part of the night. It was sometime after sunrise in the morning when we awoke; the sun was blazing down fiercely upon us and we were completely bathed in perspiration—bah! As I opened my eyes the first object that met my gaze was our young Indian—who slept near me on some horse blankets—staring at me with his great black eyes and grinning joyously to find that we did not intend to sleep all day. I had been dreaming of home, and dear friends far east beyond these desert wilds, and it was sometime before I could make out where I was and what manner of being the wild, grinning face before me belonged to, but wasn't it a scorcher to cook breakfast that morning? We thought so then, but compared with after experience it was naught. Shortly after rising we saw, far out in the marshes to the northward, several black specks bobbing above the rushes and knew the buzzards had smelled us out. First a speck and then an Indian—the Philistines were upon us. We had noticed, the night before, a number of campfires blazing above the dark rush flats in that direction and doubtless, they had seen our fire and knew by the manner in which it was fed that we were a camp of Waamoogenas. One after another they emerged from the bulrushes and halted on the dry land to put on their breeches and "moco"—(moccasins) which they had carried over on their heads in order to present themselves in good style. Among them was a "Capitan"—Capitan John, and a very old Indian, grey, wrinkled and almost toothless, whom we christened "Old Pap," and other fellows of the common root-hog-or-die species. After grinning and how d'ye-do-ing to their hearts' content, or as much as they considered politeness and the occasion required, they began to have an eye to business. Capitan John came up near the fire and sat down with an—"augh!" and fixed his eyes upon the pan in which our snipe were frying: "Old Pap," squatted beside Capitan John with an—"Ah-h!" and fixed his eyes on the snipe. The root-hog fellows squatted beside "Old Pap" with a lazy grunt and began to ogle the sputtering snipe. It's hard to eat heartily with a dozen pair of hungry eyes following every mouthful, but, as our whole breakfast would hardly have made a mouthful each for the hungry crowd, we tried to persuade ourselves that it was merely curiosity that brought them to our camp and that they had eaten a hearty breakfast before coming to visit us. After finishing breakfast we gave our young Indian sufficient to have made him a good meal, but he immediately divided it with the outsiders, though they were not from his village. Several boys, from six to ten years of age now came up out of the bulrushes and stood about camp gazing at us with bulging eyes, industriously scratching their heads with all the fingers of both hands. One of the boys had a dozen or so of small eggs which he and "Old Pap" roasted on shares in the hot embers. They had two or three mud hens, and these, after pulling off a few of the largest feathers, they threw into the fire and covered with the hot sand and ashes, and soon a scent pervaded our camp quite equal in flavor to that same barbecue that Mrs. Partington got a snuff of in Illinois.

Before retiring on the previous evening we had noticed a fire blazing high up in the range of sedimentary mountains east of our camp, and at first supposed a party of roving prospectors to be camped there; but on asking our Indian about it, he said it was an Indian fire and that there was plenty of good wood and water there. So it was decided that Bob and I should go up there and examine the region of country near where we saw the light whilst Tom staid in camp to skin his birds. Taking one gun and our revolvers, Bob and I mounted our horses and set out for the mountains, distant, as we supposed, about three miles. We carried with us some cold slap-jacks for a lunch and our two woolen covered U.S. canteens full of water. After floundering along for near a mile we got out of the soft alkali soil and came upon a series of dry ponds, as level and solid as a pavement, where we let our steeds out on the lope for some distance. While sweeping swiftly over the bed of one of these dry ponds I happened to look back and beheld amid a cloud of dust a horseman galloping madly toward us.

Wondering what the furious rider could possibly want, we called a halt and waited for him to approach. We soon saw that the rider was an Indian and concluded that he wished to accompany us in the capacity of guide. On coming up to us the fellow looked as pleased as though he had found a couple of long lost brothers; shook hands, how-d'ye-do-ed and then taking from a hunting pouch that hung by his side a roll of rags, he unfolded them and passed us a paper setting forth that the bearer was "Capitan Breckenridge," a "good Indian," but "very much in need of old clothes," and "very hungry." We told him it was all right, but we couldn't spare what few "old clothes" we had on our backs, and if he saw anything about us that he could eat, except ourselves or horses, he was quite welcome to pitch in. He now gave us to understand that what was most particularly the matter with him was the want of a small piece of tobacco. As both Bob and I plead guilty to having a weakness for the weed, we fully appreciated the Capitan's orful fix and gave him a liberal supply. He wished to know where we started from that morning and how many men we left at camp. I told Bob I would gamble on his taking our tracks back and begging more tobacco of Tom; so we told him that we had but little tobacco at camp and it would be of no use for him to go, and that the man in camp was a "great medicine man" who was fixing bird skins for a big "Waamoogena pow-wow," and was "in a bad humor because he could get no big ducks," and might "shoot the top of his head off." The Capitan grinned good naturedly, shook hands and started straight back on our trail.

We found it over eight miles from our camp to the first hills of the range, instead of three as we had supposed, and the probability was that it was eight more to the spot where we had seen the fire. At the mouth of the large cañon we had been steering forever since leaving camp, we struck an Indian trail and followed it for several miles along the steep sides of the hills—the bottom of the arroyo being filled with huge rounded fragments of brown vesicular lava which had been broken from the lava capping overlying the sedimentary formation. As we could not travel in the bed of the gulch and as our trail along the steep mountain sides was but a foot-path, unfit for horses, we decided that upon reaching the forks of the cañon, some half mile further up, we would proceed no further as my horse had already lost two shoes and was very tender footed. Just below the forks of the cañon we found a patch of pretty good bunch grass and turned our horses out to graze whilst we should look about us a little and find out what manner of country we had landed in. We first proceeded to the forks of the cañon and, turning up the branch coming in on the right, found where the action of the water had cut down some sixty feet perpendicularly through a most splendid series of sedimentary rocks, lying in regular and well defined strata. From what the Indian had told me when he furnished me with a map of this part of the country, I had been anxiously looking for stratified rocks and examining those having the appearance of being metamorphic for traces of stratification; but though I had been hoping to find this formation, I had, until reaching this spot, found nothing but lava and was not aware of its existence until I came upon it thus suddenly. At this point the rocks were a species of very soft sandstone, containing pebbles of granite, jasper, greenstone and mica-slate, with traces of decayed vegetable matter. In one place I found part of the wing-bone of some small fowl embedded in the stone.

From appearances I should judge these strata had been formed in the bed of a fresh water lake. In the perpendicular face of the hill before me were five distinct layers, no two being of precisely the same color. The upper strata were the lightest, being nearly white, while the lower ones were gray and one stratum was nearly black. This formation dipped to the north-west at an angle of about three hundred degrees, and was capped by the brown lava mentioned above. I now felt almost positive that we would find coal in this range of mountains. After eating our lunch we followed up this right hand ravine for one-fourth of a mile, when we turned into a deep, narrow gulch coming in on the left and found a spot where a ridge of mica slate had been forced up through the sandstones distorting it and tossing it at all manner of angles. But no coal was visible. We clambered up the rocky wall of this gulch on the left and ascended the mountain where we had a good view of the main cañon for some distance up and down. Here Bob left me, saying he was going up the mountain a short distance to see if the head of the main cañon could be seen. I waited for him, seated on a hot stone under the scorching sun, for half-an-hour, then went down to the forks of the cañon where we had eaten our lunch and where we had left part of our traps. I hoped to have found Bob here waiting for me, but as he had not yet arrived, I crawled up under the shelving sandstone wall and stretched myself out in the shade. Our supply of water was gone and after waiting an hour longer I became uneasy and started to look up my missing partner. I traveled up the mountain but a short distance before I saw him coming down the cañon. When he arrived he was so eloquent in praise of a spring he had found some two miles up the cañon that I was determined to visit it and have at least one good drink from it. We took both canteens and started up the cañon walking very fast and with the rays of the now declining sun beating down upon our backs. We reached the spring, very much heated and very thirsty, and not daring to drink at first, bathed our hands and faces in the cool, limpid stream at a spot where it poured over a ledge of rocks. This spring bursts out on the side of a steep mountain some three hundred feet above the cañon and comes tumbling down over the rocks and among a tangled mat of grass and trailing vines and water plants that form a beautiful veil which hangs from the mountain's brow. The water of this spring rises through the sandstone formation and, being thus filtered, is by far the purest and sweetest water I have tasted in this Territory. We could hardly turn away from this delightful fountain, but taking a farewell drink and filling our canteens we returned to where we had left our horses and, finding them waiting for us, mounted and rode back to camp. Though it was dark before we reached home, yet, as Tom built a signal fire, we got in without delay.

Early next morning our visitors of the previous day returned to make a second visit, or to see us off, I am not able to say which, but it proved a farewell visit. All of the old crowd and some new ones, were on hand. Tom had made a number of new acquaintances while Bob and I were up in the mountains—some not very agreeable, according to his account; in fact, he says he prepared his whole lot of birds with a "Colt's dragoon" in his lap, and a bowie between his teeth. Tom also had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Capitan Breckinridge, and of reading his credentials. They doubtless became "very thick," as Tom gave the "Capitan" nearly all of his tobacco. The good "Capitan" must smoke. A flock of ducks settled in a pond near camp, and we gave Captain Jim—one of Tom's recruits to our list of friends—one of the guns to go after them. He "snaked it" through the grass in genuine Indian style, until near enough, when, taking a deliberate aim, he fired, and presently came grinning into camp with two fine ducks. Tom stepped up to him, and patting him on the back, said:

"All right, Jim; you ver' goot Injun; ver' goot shoot; fine, goot fellow you, Jim."

Tom was about to take the ducks, thinking he had amply repaid ye Capitan for his trouble, when Jeems suddenly drew them behind his back, and demanded one dollar for the pair. Tom tried to reason with ye "Capitan," but it was no go. He then tried to entice Jeems with a slice of pancake, but this was equally no go. Tom looked exceedingly disgusted with "Jeems"—Tom has a passion for duck—and "Jeems" looked exceedingly stubborn, but at length Tom began to grow wrathy, and "Jeems," fearing he might lose all by striving to grasp too much, consented to a compromise, he keeping one duck and Tom taking the other. Tom says Jim is the most unreasonable Injun he ever saw, "to keep one of the ducks shot with his own gun, and his own ammunition."

The young Indian who had been stopping with us, returned this morning. He went home the night before, and with him came a young Indian boy, some eleven years old, who was the handsomest Piute we saw during the whole trip, and if I had been about to cross the plains, homeward bound, I certainly should have managed to take him with me. He wore nothing except a breech-clout about his waist, beads about his neck, and moccasins on his feet. He was tall, slender and straight; his limbs perfectly formed, and his body round and supple. His step was as elastic as that of a young antelope. His features were well formed and regular: in fact, such as the most critical observer could have found no fault with; his abundant head of black, glossy hair, flowed down his back and reached below his waist, and being parted on his forehead was kept back by a beaded band which passed around his head. So delicately moulded were his features that for a long time Tom and Bob swore it was a girl, but as all the other Indians said he was a genuine nahtzee they were forced to give in. He carried his bow and arrows constantly in his left hand, and in a race our whole camp had after a young rabbit that I started near camp, he bounded over the clumps of greasewood like a deer, with his bow drawn ready to let fly the fatal arrow, could he have caught sight of it for a single instant, when not running.

"Old Pap" was again with us. This poor old devil (in the Pickwickian sense) had really and truly "nothing to wear" but a breech-clout. Though old and homely, he had a not unkind countenance, and seemed a great favorite with the Indians. There was always a little knot of the children of the deserts gathered about him, and his tongue kept up an incessant clatter, while his arms, long, lean and skinny, were tossed above his head as he gesticulated, and pointed to the four quarters of the earth. What all of his talk was about I could not make out, for his words were poured forth in an unbroken stream. While sitting about camp Capitan John picked up a fine large scorpion near where, for the last two nights, we had slept. How he managed to get hold of it was more than I could conceive, for it was a most spiteful and agile beast, and struck out wickedly in every direction on being touched. This same "Capitan Johnny," wore a sort of pouch of buckskin, suspended on his breast, completely covered with bright, new needles, arranged in close rows. Seeing Tom using a needle, he folded his arms innocently across his breast, so as to hide his stock of needles, and going up to where Tom was at work, gravely begged for "jis one needoo." I instantly folded my arms across my breast, and going up to him imitated his whining tone, and asked, "Capitan Johnny," for "jis one needoo." The cunning rascal saw he was caught, and instantly put down his arms, shook his pouch of needles, and danced and capered about in excess of mirth.

At length we commenced packing up for a start. It was near 10 o'clock, but then we didn't intend to do more than go up into the mountains to the first spring we could find. Whilst gathering up our traps, Tom picked up, after everything else was stowed away, several small strips of cotton cloth, thinking they might be of use; then, seeing a boot-strap lying on the ground, that I had that morning tore from my boot, he picked it up and put it in the pack. Capitan "Jeems," who was a little down on Tom since the affair of the ducks, and who was watching his every move, now arose, and picking up a bit of oil-cloth half an inch in width by three inches long, marched up to Tom with a face which was gravity itself, and presented it to him, making signs for him to put that in his pack with his other valuables. Tom smelt a mice, and frowned indignantly on "Jeems," and being no longer able to contain my pent-up mirth, burst out in a huge guffaw, in which Bob and all of "our friends" the Piutes, joined. But Tom couldn't see the point of the joke, and to this day swears there was nothing funny about it. Tom is, himself, an inveterate joker, and had vanquished Bob and I on so many occasions, that we stood in no little awe of his wit; therefore, this hit of Jeems' was, as the saying goes, "ducks for us," and whenever thereafter Tom displayed his glittering blade we cited to him his friend "Jeems." For all that, Tom never could see the point of the joke. We soon found that he hated most infernally to hear it told, and I hope the story may never reach Grass Valley, for Tom has become quite sensitive in regard to the little passage with "Jeems." The last scrap being packed, nothing being left behind sufficiently extensive to enrich even the finger of an Indian, we said "fare-you-well" red brothers, brick-colored children of the desert—"adoo,"—and vaulting into our saddles, left them weeping around the deserted camp-fire—"over the left."

After leaving camp and getting clear of the soft, yielding, alkaline clay, near the lake, we laid our course for a great cañon, that came down from the mountains almost directly east of our camp. We started with a good supply of water, well knowing that we would have some ten miles of scorching desert to cross, and not knowing how far up into the mountains we would be obliged to climb before finding springs. The Indians had said, when questioned about this cañon, on these points: "Peezhah-you sa-wap," (good trail) "peezhah-you pah," (good water) "ee-waw-you waa-hap," (plenty of grass). Tom, who had turned off the road directly after we started, in chase of a hare, now made his appearance, with a dried-up specimen of Piute humanity trotting at his heels, whom we supposed he had engaged as a guide, though he denied it at the time, and vehemently denies it now. He swore he never asked the fellow to follow him; "the rascal followed of his own accord," and he "might leave, or go to the d—1 of his own accord!" This Indian proved to be "Jim," a second "Jeems," though it is but fair to say that, at first he seemed to have no very definite idea whether it was "Jim" or not, or whether he had a name at all.

"Is your name Jim, or Tom, or John, or Sam?" I asked.

"Jim, or Tom, or Sam," answered this "gay and festive" youth.

"Is your name Jim, or John?" I ask.

"Name John," answered this "hilarious human."

"Ah! your name is John, is it? not Jim."

"Name Jim."

"You just said John, confound you?"

"Yes, John."

"John, you say your name is John, instead of Jim, do you?" "Yes, do you, yes, name Jim."

"Look here, Injun! remember that your name is Jim! Jim you shall be as long as you stay in this crowd; I'll have no more `John and Sam' nonsense!"

"Yes, no more John, name Sam, nonsense, Sam, yes," and this "noble red man of the forest" looked up in my face and smiled as though he thought he had at length struck it.

"Jim" he was thenceforth, and perhaps will be forever.

We had some good sport after hare, in crossing a bushy flat. Tom fired once or twice, badly wounding several hare, and I fired once, badly wounding several—in the leg—the left. So much bloodshed excited Jim, and he tore about through the bushes, and finally treed a mouse in a hole. We soon found that he was addicted to mice—in fact, hungered and thirsted after them. His tremendous exertions on this occasion, brought on the nose-bleed, and, in fact, we soon found that he was addicted to the nose-bleed. Having the nose-bleed caused him to wish for rest and repose, and, in fact, we soon became aware that he was addicted to repose. Having supplied him with water from the canteens, to bathe his face, and allowed him as much repose as was consistent with our plan of getting a camp in the mountains before night, we passed on, allowing him the privilege of following or staying behind to hunt mice, as he saw fit. He saw fit to follow. We crossed several dry basins of former alkali lakes, some of them two miles in width, as level as a floor, as white as snow and as solid as marble—the hoofs and steel shoes of our animals clattering over the unyielding surface as though we were traveling over a frozen lake. The refracted rays of the sun from these white, polished and glittering flats, were exceedingly trying to the eyes and complexion. My nose and cheeks were burnt to a blister, in fact, nearly my whole face blistered and peeled. The alkali dust, and alkali water we were obliged to use, caused our lips to crack open and bleed, and the impalpable alkaline powder, lodging within our nostrils, irritated inwardly our already outwardly irritated "smellers," and our noses might have been mistaken for a collection of prize beets. For many days not one of our party could whistle a note, eight-square being as near as we could bring our mouths to the proper shape for that sort of musical display. At last we reached the mouth of the great arroyo we had been steering toward for several hours, and found a very good Indian trail leading up along its sides—for in most places the bed was a complete mass of loose boulders of black, vesicular lava over which would have been impossible to travel on horseback. No sand, gravel or dirt was deposited with these huge beds of rocks, to fill up the interstices, and one might look downward into the cracks to the depth of several feet. These vast beds of boulders afford shelter and convenient burrowing places for an innumerable host of lizards and rattlesnakes, squirrels, rats, scorpions and other reptiles and vermin.

The trail on which we were traveling was intended for horsemen, and a good degree of skill was evinced by the Indian engineers in conducting it along the declivitous banks of the cañon, and in making the crossings from side to side. Along the trail were frequent "guide boards," a la Piute, telling us that there was water ahead. These are made by heaping up a small column of stone, the cap stone of the column being the pointer. Thus, on a trail between two springs, the small end of the capstone points backward to the spring you have just left until half-way to the other, when the small ends of the top stones will be found to point forward. This is worth remembering, prospectors. Some five miles up the cañon it was divided into two ridges. Up this ridge our trail now led us, and on gaining its summit we found a considerable extent of comparatively level ground and at first were greatly astonished at seeing before us a newly reaped grain field, thickly strewn with heaps of bound sheaves; in fact, it was a harvest field. The Piute women had here gathered a most abundant harvest of grass seed. On this field, of some thirty acres, were heaped up many tons of sheaves from which the grain had been thrashed. Many bushels of such must have been obtained on this field alone. In preparing this seed or grain for bread, they do not pound it in mortars, as do the Diggers, but it is placed upon a great flat stone and ground under a smaller stone used in the manner of a muller.

This seed (of the bunch grass), is said to contain more nourishment than barley. Horses quickly fatten in a range where this feed abounds. A short distance above the harvest-field there are several branch ravines putting into the main cañon and our trail, all of a sudden, exhibited a most perplexing disposition for branching. Calling a halt, we ordered our sagacious "Jeems" to advance and inform us as to the merits of the different trails. However, we gained but little reliable information from his answers, for he declared in turn that each particular trail was good and bad, direct and roundabout, well supplied with water and grass and destitute of these indispenables. Finding it a hopeless and exasperating task to extract the desired information by catechising him we determined to induce him to demonstrate practically his preference for some particular route; therefore we ordered him to the front and told him to "locomote" and turning into the very trail we were wishing to take, he locomoted.

In a short time our guide plunged over the ridge into the arroyo on our left and, as the trail plunged after him, we took the same dive and found ourselves in a perfect little bijou of a meadow with a setting of dark volcanic rocks, forming on the left side a perpendicular wall of a semi-circular form. Here was a rill of delicious water flowing in sparkling ripples over its pebbly bed; here were clumps of willow and buffalo bushes forming a most delightful shade, and here was plenty of green, waving grass. Allowing our animals to drink, we loosened their girths and let them feed a few minutes whilst we bathed our faces and dabbled and splashed in the cool waters of the rivulet. Several dilapidated Indian baskets were scattered around and we could trace the sites of several old lodges. Before us were two or three whose entirety told of recent occupation, showing this to be a favorite camping ground with the Indians during the season of seed gathering. A few minutes' travel carried us beyond this oasis, and the bed of the cañon was again dry and rocky. Soon we crossed over to the left bank, led by our trail along the side of a steep mountain, and over rocks of the same sedimentary formation, and having the same dip—N.W.—of those noticed in the cañon farther south. In the opposite mountain, where the cañon had cut its way, the strata were distinct and well defined. As we advanced, our trail gradually ascended, and soon we were some three hundred feet above the bed of the cañon. The trail was so narrow and the side of the mountain so steep—being almost perpendicular in some places—that, rather than take the chances of being tumbled to the bottom of the gorge, by our horses making a false step, we dismounted and drove our animals before us, until we passed round the face of the mountain and landed on an elevated flat, situated at the base of a more elevated series of peaks. Here was a good spring and some ten acres of excellent grass, and we at first thought of pitching camp, but seeing some distance above us the appearance of a second flat and other springs, we only halted to fill our canteens, then pushed on.

After a mile of steep, zigzag climbing, up the face of a great lava-capped mountain, we found ourselves in an extensive mountain meadow, with a small brook of cool, clear and sweet water flowing through it. But still we were not satisfied. There appeared to be a little bench some fifty rods above, and we were determined to climb up to that. It was a steep road, but we zigzagged our stock up it, and found the bench all we had hoped, in fact, a model camping-ground—a little paradise of bubbling springs and prattling rills, with a carpet of grass, soft, thick and velvety.

Turning loose our stock, we rolled and tumbled in the grass like so many school-boys out for a holiday. We were almost beside ourselves with joy, at having found such a little heaven of grass and water—with the little bench, as level as a floor, and just big enough for our camp and equipage. We christened our camp "Kievea Nee-niet," or the "Mountain Spring," and declared we would spend a whole month in this delightful place. Jim was the only one in our party that took things cool. Begging some tobacco, he lighted his cigarito, and exhibited the most philosophic calmness. He even allowed his thoughts to dwell on "filthy lucre," for, seeing us all in such excellent humor, he took the opportunity to extend his dusky palm, and exclaim: "Give me money! Give me heap-a money!" But "Jeems" didn't take us by storm nor capture us as he anticipated, whilst overcome and drunken with gladness —nary time! Didn't we read him a moral lesson, in view of his harboring such sordid, grovelling thoughts at such a time and in such a place? And didn't he quickly prostrate himself upon the earth, and curl himself up in a very small pile, completely abashed, annihilated? I rather think he did! With ropes, poles and blankets we soon rigged a splendid tent—even Jeems grinned in admiration of it—dug out a spring near camp, stowed away our baggage and put everything ship-shape. Before us, to the northward, miles on miles away, lay spread out the most magnificent panorama of mountain scenery ever seen or conceived of. No pen could do justice to this symmetrical chaos of peaks! Were I to write for a month, I could not convey to the reader more than a faint, uncertain notion of that appearance of lightness, yet overwhelming conviction of massiveness and solidity, observed and felt in standing before those mountains, that seem to sit so lightly in the laps of mountains, and those hills that skip and roll at their feet! What artist, with pencil and gross, material pigments, dare venture to sit down before this concourse of hills to paint their portraits, and not blush at his miserable, lifeless caricatures—his stark dead, canvass-and-ochre peaks? What artist, with more than artistic pencil, can reach out and with lightest touch press back till lost in dim blue distance, those dark, ragged old mountains, cowering low in the haze of the northern horizon, and place at the proper distance before them, those smoother, more graceful groups, tinged along their western slopes with violet, where kissed by the declining sun, and with purple in the shadow of their great rounded shoulders? How hang before these last their hazy veil of pink, spangled with glittering atoms of dust, brushed from the winged rays of the sun? How place in the middle distance, with miles of space on every side, those tall, erect, distinctly outlined peaks, wearing crowns of pearl-gray castellated rocks, and plumes of black waving pines, and with mantles of emerald, russet and orange in graceful folds to their feet? How lift their heads among the clouds and spread about their brows the cold, thin, blue upper-air, or reach down, down and clothe the little hills, tossing at their feet, in their verdant vesture, or touch the tiny valleys, hiding among them their mirthful dimples, with the glad, sunny tinge of yellow? Then, how draw back, leaving the merry, dimpled hills gamboling far, far below, and lay down at his feet the little valley of brilliant yellow and green, with its swaying willows and dancing brooks, the huge, rugged mountain walling it on the west—brown in the sunlight and black in the shadow? Or how heap up on its eastern margin, terrace above terrace of rugged, distorted, brown and amber rocks, ever toppling, ever looking down from giddy cliffs, yet never falling? Feeling pretty certain that by this time the reader will agree with me and say, "it can't be did!" I will take a last glance at those stupendous mountain "swells" and sum the whole matter up by quoting a verse of my favorite poet:

"High, higher than the highest high, Around me rounds the great around; Beginnings unbegun, begin, Confounding to confound the found."

You bet!

You, "Jeems, drive those animals down the hill again!" Such was the brief and energetic order given to our very efficient and well qualified "Jeems," on observing our stock gradually straying off up the steep slope of the mountain above us. Vell, vot of it? Nothing my covey, I only wished to circle round till I could get an excusable excuse for speaking of the very excellent pasture land situated high up among these mountains—and I've done it in a masterly style. Now, though there was a most luxuriant growth of bunch grass standing in the flat, higher than their knees, these confounded horses were sure to wander away from it and climb the mountain; for, if possible, a horse is always bound to travel up hill when feeding. Not only were the flats and lower parts of the hills thus luxuriantly clothed in bunch grass and red-tops, but the tallest peaks were green to their very summits. There appeared to be a most generous flow of moisture rising by capillary attraction through the stratified sandstone formation and oozing out in a fertilizing sweat from base to apex of all the surrounding hills. There was grass—green, waving dewy grass, above, below and around us—verily a world of grass! Thousands of cattle and horses might be herded in these mountains during the summer season on the best and sweetest mountain pasturage in the world, far above the heats of the desert and free from annoying insects; in the winter season they could be driven down into the meadows and rush flats about the Sink.

After having put our camp in order Bob and I concluded to go up into the mountains above our camp and explore the country on the course of our trail. We strapped on our six-shooters and carrying one gun and a prospecting pick, set out. The trail, after an abrupt ascent of three hundred yards, passed across a grassy flat of some five acres containing springs, a little rill, and clumps of willows; then another steep ascent of a hundred yards and we found ourselves in a long, winding meadow, surrounded by low grassy hills, and these again guarded by a circle of tall sentinel peaks. We started up several flocks of sage hen in the meadows and Bob succeeded in bringing down three fine ones; we saw a few rabbits, of the species called cottontails, but they all escaped into holes among the rocks. We passed up along the trail some three miles and crossing the meadowland to its eastern border, found ourselves upon the brink of a broad, deep cañon and before us one of the most singular mountain peaks I ever beheld. We seated ourselves and gazed upon it for many minutes in astonishment and admiration. It was smooth as though turned in a lathe, conical in shape and of the most symmetrical proportions. Its base was at the bottom of the deep, wide cañon, several hundred feet below us, while its summit towered near a thousand feet above, with the sharp taper of a spire. This mountain was composed of metamorphic sandstone rock, which, being much disintegrated, gave to it its regular form, and the various degrees of heat to which it had been subjected, taken in connection with the primitive shading of its strata, imparted its brilliant and various colors. There were belts, bars and stripes of white, red, yellow, brown, black, purple and gray, and as there were springs oozing out near its summit in diverse places from which were unrolled down to its base brilliant carpets of green, through openings in which, of various patterns, were seen patches of the bright ground work of the hill, the tout ensemble was that of a vast mountain draped in gaudy tapestry. Such was the deceptive effect of these bright but delicately blended hues that after gazing a few seconds on the mountain the whole seemed to approach within a few feet of our position and hang like a curtain before our eyes. This effect was, doubtless, heightened by the slanting rays and mellow light of the evening sun; yet, without letting our eyes fall to the shaded base, it was almost impossible to realize that the mountain was half-a-mile distant. Returning to camp with our game we found Tom and "Jeems" just returning from an unsuccessful hunt, and made them happy by our fine display of plump sage hen. That night we had a feast of "fat things"—sage hen and dumplings "a la Tom Smith." Our grub was fast melting away, since having secured the able and energetic assistance of "Jeems," and we found that we must soon leave our little paradise, or send out for a fresh supply of the "wherewithal" either to Doc. Redman's or to Silver Hill. That night no mosquitos disturbed our repose.

Part 2; Part 3; Part 4