Dan DeQuille:  Washoe Rambles

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

Part 2 of 4 

CHAPTER IV

THE NEXT morning, after arguing the pros and cons, we decided upon going to Silver Hill for provisions—which camp we supposed to lie some fifteen miles north-east on the opposite side of the range we were now in. While at breakfast, we heard several loud "maawahagwes," or shouts below us, and, looking down upon the flat, saw near the brook, a little, foreshortened, creeping insect, which we conjectured represented an Indian. This conjecture was, within half an hour, verified by the appearance in camp of a stalwart Piute, followed by his two sons, five and eight years of age, in puris naturalibus. He greeted us with a "daa-groee-kea"—how d'ye do—and we greeted him with a "daagweekea," then pointed out "our Jeems" as a person with whom he was at liberty to confabulate. They immediately confabulated. We gave our visitors something to eat and packed up for a start.

Bob had a gray horse which he obtained in Carson City, said to be the biggest devil ever turned loose; and all who knew him declared that he would never come back from the trip. "Getting away and running" was "Gray's" forte—every one said "good by Gray, we will never see you again!" Now, Bob having "ranched it" in Southern California, and hunted wild horses on the Tulare plains, was especially delighted to get hold of a horse having so bad a name as "Gray" was honored with, and after the second day out, could step up and catch him in any place—in fact, in his hands "Gray" was as gentle as a dog. This morning he concluded to let the Indian ride him, while he would take his gun and hunt along the trail. We had got off some hundred yards, when the Indian, who had been loitering to talk with his fellow "Injun," attempted to mount, and being very clumsy, frightened "Gray" by some means. I have seen hawks swoop down from the clouds, arrows launched from bows, and the lightnings dart from heaven, but I never saw anything, animate or inanimate, move much swifter than that horse plunged down that steep mountain. His legs were invisible. Nothing could be seen but a gray streak! "Our Jeems" was left lying on his back at the first leap, and before he rose to his feet all was over—the race had ended—for after darting down a slope, steeper than a house roof, some two hundred yards, "Gray" went head first and end over end over a perpendicular fall out of sight, and all was still. After waiting a few minutes to see him come into view in the cañon below the fall, and finding he did not make his appearance, we hardly supposed it to be worth while to look after him; but at length Bob started down, and after standing on the bank and looking down awhile, said he believed he was alive. I held Tom's horse and he went down into the canon, and both Indians also went down. I sup-posed that, even though alive, "Gray" must at least have four broken legs and one broken neck. But at length, much to my astonishment, I saw the boys leading him down the cañon, "rairin' and chargin' " so that he could hardly be prevented from again escaping. Not a bone was broken and not even a scratch could be found on his carcass. When he struck bottom he happened to fall into the soft, oozy bed of a tiny rill, whose banks were free from rocks, and composed of fine black loam. He lay on his back, his legs pawing the air and his head up hill in an opposite direction from that in which he was running. But for the nature of the ground on which he alighted, "salt wouldn't have saved him!"

After allowing "Gray" to escape, Jeems was in disgrace, and had to plod along on foot, and at one time he wandered so far from the trail that we suspected him of harboring a design to desert us; but by watching his manoeuvres a short time, and observing that he rushed this way and that, in an excited manner, falling on his knees and clawing the ground like a coyote, I dismissed all suspicious thoughts. He was only at his old trade of mouse hunting. He might have deserted in welcome, but he had the steel ramrod belonging to my gun, in his possession. There really was nothing bad about Jeems, but then he was such an insignificant little old cuss. His head was no larger than an average sized orange; his nose was flat; his eyes small and dull; his mouth large; his teeth bad, and his hair cut Digger style, giving him, on the whole, a low-priced appearance. I have called him old, yet he was not over twenty-eight, but his motions were so sluggish and his features so pinched and shrivelled, that he had anything but a "gay and festive" look. Jeems was a married man, as he informed me, and had a nobee (home or camp) on the Sink wherein dwelt his much better half and two papooses. Jeems was the most timid and inoffensive Piute we saw on the trip, and his worst fault was stubborn spells, during which it was impossible to make him understand a single word. At such times, no matter what question you asked, or what order you gave him, his answer was: "Kie-you nah cah!" (I don't understand, or literally: "My ears are stopped"). Occasionally Jeems would take a "good streak" and become very communicative. He would talk about the road, and tell us in what part of the country good grass was abundant, where were the best springs, and in what range of hills mountain-sheep were to be found. He would even sing and whistle, and tell us the Indian name of various objects without being asked, and we often thought that, after all, he might be more knave than fool.

After traveling about six miles, we reached the summit of the mountain, and found that our trail plunged down a narrow tongue of land into an immense arroyo, running almost due east, and emptying into a great desert some sixty miles long by thirty in width, which lay along the base of this range as far as we could see to the northward. As we expected to pass down this canon to the desert, and then turn northward along the base of the range, Bob concluded to take his gun and one canteen of water and make a cut-off through the mountains, joining us about noon, on the trail north of the mouth of the canon. I took his horse, the "gallant gray," and gave the Indian mine, and we commenced descending to the bottom of the cañon. When part way down, we found a spring, and calling a halt, we drank from our canteens until we were in "moderate pain," and sent Jeems off to the spring to re-fill it, we leading down the stock. While waiting for the Indian, Tom, in lighting his pipe, set fire to some dry grass, and soon the whole hillside was in a roaring flame, and our situation decidedly too warm for comfort—to say nothing of smoke and ashes. At last Jim made his appearance, dragging his slow "length along," and we mounted, thanking our "stars and garters" that we would soon leave this purgatory of heat and smoke behind, when, just at this worst of times and meanest of places, our Jeems' confounded nose burst out bleeding in a stream. Had I not feared he would bleed to death and we be burnt to death at the stake by his tribe for causing his death, I verily believe I should have been inhuman enough to have rode on and let him work out his own salvation.

"Confound such a nose!" cried Tom, "and see how the fool is blowing it and picking at it—stop picking and blowing your nose —you moobee—you fool!" continued Tom.

"We must take him in hand," said I, "or he will bleed to death. He is frightened and is only making things worse."

So, at him we went. First, we poured a lot of water down the back of his neck and over his breast, then pushed him over on his back and, in spite of his kicking and squabbling, dashed his nostrils full of dust. He sputtered and howled and blew it out, but we held him down and dashed in more dirt in defiance of his struggles, and at last made him understand that we did not intend to murder him and that this mild treatment was all for the good of his "sick moobee." Our treatment had the desired effect and we soon left the smoke and heat of the burning hills behind.

We were now traveling along a well-beaten Indian trail in the dry bed of the great cañon, which was quite level on the bottom and from one hundred to three hundred yards in width. This cañon we named "Arroyo Grande," on account of its great width and the height of its walls. In passing down we saw a number of Piute "guide boards," all pointing up the canon. When within half-a-mile of the mouth of the cañon Jim suddenly wheeled to the left and spurred his horse up the steep bank on a dim-looking trail, crying out—"peezhah-you saawap—come on!" We followed, and on getting up the bank found ourselves on the level plain extending along the base of the mountain. It would have been no better road—and at least a mile further—to have gone to the mouth of the arroyo before turning north, and "our Jeems" chuckled a great deal over his great display of sagacity in bringing us via this cut-off.

Within three miles we came in sight of a narrow gorge walled in by perpendicular cliffs of porphyritic rock, over two hundred feet high on one side and on the other at least six hundred. Toward the black mouth of this tremendous cleft our guide turned his horse.

"The devil!" cried Tom, "what if this fellow is decoying us into this infernal dead-fall to where some of the cut-throats of his tribe are lying in wait to shoot us? It's just such a place, for all the world, as I have heard of brigands living in.

"Last year I would have hesitated about going into such a place, but now there is no danger—and I am confounded thirsty."

"My fix," replied Tom, then bringing his gun down from his shoulder to his arm, he said—"In we go, and if I see anything that don't look right, Jim `goes up the flume' to start on!"

We rode through the pass, which very much resembled the "Devil's Gate," at Silver City, but everything was on a much grander scale, and found beyond a broad cañon with sloping banks and good grass, springs, and clumps of willow and buffalo bushes growing high up on the sides of the hills. This spot was afterward named Cliff Springs.

"Well," cried the delighted Thomas, "Jim does know some-thing after all—you good man, Jim!"

"Yaas," replied Jeems, holding out his hand, "give me money!" "To the d—1 with you!" shouted Tom, in disgust, "you don't know anything!"

"Jeems" instantly subsided. We encamped in the shade of a clump of buffalo bushes near a fine spring and turned our animals up the cañon to feed.

Bob had not yet made his appearance, and we began to fear that he had lost his way in the mountains. From the point where he left us on the summit it did not appear to be over three miles to the mouth of the cañon, and he had supposed he would reach the plain in an hour, whereas, we had found the distance to be near fifteen miles. Fearing he might pass on toward Silver Hill without noticing our tracks, I caught a horse and rode out on our back track. After getting out about a mile, to my great joy, I saw him toiling along the trail toward me, pretty thoroughly used up —for the day was the hottest we had yet experienced. I dismounted and gave him the horse, and as we pursued our way to camp, he told me of the awful mountains he had been wandering among, and the perpendicular precipices down which he had lowered himself from rock to rock; the steep hills he had toiled up, over drifts of loose sliding slate, and the deep, dark, rocky gorges he had threaded; how his canteen of water gave out, and he almost perished of thirst before finding a spring. In short, he had a bad time generally, as his torn boots proved. Tom had dinner ready when we got in, and after eating we lit our pipes and stretched ourselves in the shade, forgetful of all our past troubles, and careless of those to come.

We had been stretched on our blankets in the shade of the buffalo trees near an hour, and Bob was snoring—he does snore, though, he never will acknowledge it—Tom napping salubriously, and myself just going off in a doze, when we were startled by our ever faithful, ever watchful, our own "Jeems" exclaiming "in thrilling tones"—"Waaamoogena? waamoogena!" Our party of three "hardy explorers," instantly arose in "unison and as if by enchantment" to a "graceful" sitting position, and beheld before us "a solitary horseman winding his way up" the canon. A solitary, dust-covered, battered, thirsty, weary-and-worn traveler—(N.B., this was Mr. M. H. Wallace, formerly of Sacramento, now of Carson City, N.T.). The gentleman lost no time in getting to the spring, for it had been some hours since he drank his last drop of water, and he said our camp, with the green grass, and springs about it, looked like a little heaven. He informed us that he had a team back on the desert, in charge of two friends, who were perhaps by this time in a suffering condition, he having left them at nine o'clock with but a pint of very bad water, the last of three pails full they had bought the night before, at the rate of one dollar per pailful. Another of his party, he said, was missing, having started ahead early in the forenoon to look for water, and he feared he might have perished on the desert. As Mr. Wallace feared his team might be in a perishing condition, we gave him our two canteens, which, with his own, would hold sufficient water to enable him to give his horses a few swallows after having supplied the immediate wants of the men; and filling them he hastened away.

About half an hour after Wallace left, a "solitary footman" made his appearance down in the cañon, plodding wearily up toward our camp. On reaching our camp we spoke to him, but could get no answer. He seemed not to hear, and did not even look toward us. One of the boys spoke and said, the fellow must be deaf and dumb, but seeing how eagerly his eyes were fixed upon the spring, I knew he was perishing for water and ran out to prevent him from killing himself by drinking too much; for, I expected to see him throw himself down and plunge his head into the spring. I soon found it was not necessary to watch him for he was well aware of his situation and the danger of indulging too freely in the cold spring water. Taking a cup he poured water on his wrists and bathed his temples. His lips were covered with a glutinous saliva and he was not able to speak for some time, not till after thoroughly washing and cleansing his mouth and throat of the phlegm collected therein. He was about exhausted and said he could not have walked another mile. This gentleman was Mr. E. J. Scott, of Carson City, and was the missing man Mr. Wallace had spoken of. He said that after leaving the wagon to go on his search for water, he traveled across the desert till he reached the base of the mountains, when he struck in among a range of low, barren hills covered with loose white sand and where the walking was terribly fatiguing. He hadn't a single drop of water with him and now began to suffer dreadfully from thirst. He several times left the low hills and followed dry arroyos up into the mountains, hoping to find springs at their head, but was always unsuccessful in his search. Their beds were always dry and dusty. Whenever a man is out of water and begins to allow his thoughts to wander to all of the cool fountains familiar in bygone days and sets out to search the hills for springs, his thirst becomes aggravated almost beyond endurance and the person is pretty sure, after failing in his first attempt to find water, to become frightened and exert himself to such a degree as to increase his thirst. On reaching the large canon I have called Arroyo Grande, and down which we had traveled that afternoon, he followed up its bed some distance, but, finding it perfectly dry with no appearance of water near, he left it on striking our trail at the point where we ascended the bank and turned northward, and thus followed us into the Cliff Springs.

After Scott had rested and eaten he expressed a determination to take some water and go out as far as he could on the desert to meet Wallace and party; as he assured us they would be but partially relieved by the water Wallace was able to carry to them, not having over a pint when he left in the morning; we thought it would be doing no more than our duty to take a couple of horses and ride out till we met them, carrying all the water we could in such vessels as we had in camp. We filled a large coffee pot and small tin pail, and Tom and Bob mounted their horses and set out as a relief party. Scott knowing from his late experience something of the pangs of thirst, said there could not be too much water taken out, and with a small pail he started on foot, saying he would walk out on the sand as far as he could and wait till his friends came up—ready to give them a fresh supply of water. After the boys had gone I climbed upon the cliff and saw, some five miles out on the desert, a wagon with a white cover, which I knew from a description given by Scott to belong to Wallace's party. The wagon was standing still and I could see that the horses had been unharnessed from the wagon and were standing near, but could not even guess at what was going on further than that their horses had given out. I now, for the first time, noticed a second party, off to the left, toward Arroyo Grande and much nearer than Wallace and his friends. I saw one of the boys turn off toward this party while the other continued on toward Wallace's wagon, and began to think the desert must be full of people in distress. In half an hour I again mounted my lookout, in company with "Jeems," who had been greatly interested in the fate of these people on the desert since I had told him that they were "going to bring in flour and bacon and coffee and sugar"—articles we began to feel the want of. The party coming from toward the Arroyo Grande were now within a mile of our camp, and Bob and Tom were far out on the desert, going toward Wallace's party which had left the wagon and was moving slowly—so slowly that I could hardly be certain they did move—toward our beacon cliffs. I watched till our boys came up to them, and saw them all halt and crowd up in a great black knot, far out on the white alkali waste, and knew the castaways were tasting a beverage far sweeter than rum, gin, brandy or any fancy mixed liquors they had ever imbibed. At length the black knot unwound itself and became a string which commenced creeping across the white sand toward the mountains. But one horseman turned and moved toward the deserted wagon! What could he be going to the wagon for? Most likely for provisions, or there might be a dead or dying man left there? I strained my eyes to see every move made by this solitary horseman, and, at last, saw before him on the desert a mere speck which he seemed to be turning toward. I saw him halt and dismount, then saw the speck rise up and take his place in the saddle. The mystery was then cleared up. There was a man of the party too weak to walk and one of the boys was helping him in on his horse. Feeling sure that they would, in due season, reach camp, I deserted my lookout and soon after I got down to camp, the party the boys had first relieved, came in—and a dusty, weary set of fellows they looked! All hands—there was three of them—rushed to the spring and drank and bathed their hands and faces in the cool, flowing rill, in an ecstasy of delight at having at last found what they had so long and ardently wished to behold. Their horses were almost wild with thirst—not having had water since the night previous—and rushed to the water, falling on their bellies and plunging their noses in up to their eyes. It was with the greatest difficulty they could be beaten or pushed away, and some of them would, doubtless, have drank till they died on the spot had they not been dragged away by force. At length Wallace's party began to straggle in. First came Bob, Wallace and Scott; then a gentleman, of their party, just over from California, Mr. Edward McShane, and G. H. Harvey, a young man from Sacramento City. Tom was behind, bringing in a man that Harvey and McShane had found on the desert.

Here the party first in, began to show signs of interest.

"We lost a man this morning and had given him up for dead—what sort of looking man is this you found? Is he a short heavy-set fellow with a full face and"--

"Yes, yes! the very fellow!"

"Light colored wool hat, blue overalls and"

"That's him! that's Blood, for the world! How, where did you find him? Was he near being gone in?"

Here Harvey related the circumstance of their finding this man, whose name was Youngblood, and who was, I think, from Gold Hill, N.T., as were the rest of his party.

It appears that when Harvey came upon Youngblood, he was out of the road, staggering along in an objectless sort of manner; and on their stopping the wagon and calling to him, he came rolling up and placed his hands upon the side of the wagon and looking up at them tried to speak. His eyes were swollen and inflamed, giving him a wild, staring look, and his tongue, also, was swollen and protruded from his mouth. Harvey and Mac drew him into the wagon, and gave him about a half-pint of warm water, the last they had, which seemed to revive him somewhat, but was but a drop toward quenching his burning thirst. He could hardly believe that they had no more water, and said he owned some of the best leads in Silver Hill, and would give half of his ground there for just one more drink. For a short time after taking him into the wagon he was delirious, and wept, and begged and prayed by turns for all manner of things, but water was chiefly in his thoughts. By the time Wallace reached them he was much better, having slept for some time; and after getting as much water as they dared let him have, was able to ride in to camp.

It seems that Youngblood left his party early in the morning, to hunt, and had traveled on several miles in advance of the wagon, when he saw an antelope, which he followed several miles further over the sand hills, then returned, and striking the trail attempted to follow it, but was overcome by his thirst, and became giddy and bewildered by exhaustion and the burning heat and scorching refractions of the sun. While in this state, Harvey found him, and no doubt saved his life by his timely aid. Youngblood's friends, or the Gold Hill party, as I will hereafter style them, had left their wagon back some twenty miles on the desert, and one man, a Mr. Hawkins, with it. Hawkins had something over a gallon of water, which they supposed would last him till they could return—their intention being to send a man to Silver Hill for another team and wagon, to haul in part of their load, while the others would start from the springs with water and their animals, and both parties meet at the wagon at a certain time, to relieve Hawkins and bring forward their freight.

Toward evening, after we had all had a hearty supper, and a bottle of Wallace's "Old Tom" had passed several times round, we forgot the troubles on the desert, and jokes and yarns were not considered out of order. Youngblood's friends began to poke sly fun at him, asking:

"Say, Blood, what do you think of Arkansaw pluck by this time? Will it do to bet on, hey?" etc.

"Blood" thought it might, "leaving out deserts, otherwise he needn't be counted in."

With a pick and shovel we soon dug out at the base of our clump of buffalo wood a level spot, sufficiently large for our bed, and another pair of miners, married for the trip, followed suit, while other parties went down into the meadows and spread their blankets on the damp sward, preparing to take their chance with the demon, rheumatism, to occupying quarters on the hill in the midst of the numerous members of the lively and waggish scorpion family, thereon abounding.

The next morning it was unanimously decided that all hands should tarry at the springs another day to rest and recruit the stock before starting for Silver Hill. Mr. Wallace and one or two of the boys made a trip out on the desert to the wagon, taking a pack animal along to bring in provisions. The rest of our camp practiced at pistol shooting, and the number of "centre shots" made, showed that it would have been rather a perilous "job of work" to the party of Piutes that should undertake to "ketch us out."

During the heat of the day we lay in the shade of the groves, reading newspapers and magazines. The American prospector never goes out into the wilds without first laying in a good store of food for his mental, as well as physical wants. "Our Jeems" spent most of his time in sleeping—a species of hardship of which he was capable of enduring a vast deal. After resting till noon we ate dinner, and then, with renewed vigor, rested till night, ate supper, and rolling in our blankets rested till morning.

____________________

CHAPTER V

A horse lost—Wallace and party depart—Visit of Indian hunters—A grand horse hunt—Horse brought in by our Indian—Start for Silver Hill and the route—Silver Hill— Old friends—A peep at the city by gas-light—We retire—Morning in the new mines—Silver Hill Lead—Go horse-herding—Again it is night—Captain Juan our guest for the evening.

IN THE morning, when we gathered in the stock, Tom's horse was missing. He had, on several occasions, given us great trouble, and was a "great scamp" for wandering off by himself. Tom started out and hunted for some two hours without finding the least trace of him, when Bob mounted his horse and set out on a search. Soon after, Bob met a party of seven Indians, coming up the cañon with packs on their backs, and bows and arrows in their hands, and halted near our camp. They had been hunting in a range of mountains to the eastward, beyond the desert toward Cold Springs, and were now on their way home to their families on the lower sink of the Carson. They had left the Cold Spring mountains at sundown, and had been traveling all night across the desert. They carried small water bottles of similar shape and construction to those noticed at Redman's Station, and were loaded with a species of mountain rat, smoked and dried, packed in oblong hampers made of twisted ropes of grass. They were a hardy looking set of fellows, bare-legged and ragged. Having food of their own they asked for nothing but tobacco. After staying an hour, to rest and breakfast, they set out up the cañon toward the summit of the mountains, leaving our "Jeems" by way of a treat, half a dozen of their black, mummyfied rats. At length Bob returns, having seen nothing of the missing horse. Wallace and party had started early in the morning for Silver Hill, taking a good supply of water from the Springs for use on the desert. Hawkins, the man left with the wagon of the Gold Hill party, came in early in the morning, having started the night before and traveled alone all night. His supply of water having run low, and his friends not returning, he thought best to look out for himself, and had started for Silver Hill, but striking our trail about daybreak, he followed it, and was lucky enough to find his friends.

It was now determined to institute a more thorough search for the missing horse, and Tom and I started out for the purpose of scouring the mountains between Cliff Springs cañon and the Arroyo Grande. The route I had marked to travel took me upon the highest peaks of the mountains lying South of the Cliff Spring cañon, around its head and down the range lying parallel on the North; as the horse was last seen in this cañon, this would find him, without he had taken wings and flown over the peaks. I took this circle and followed it according to my plan, without finding a single hoof mark where he had passed out; then took a smaller circle keeping outside all tracks, and, though I could see over every foot of ground within the circle, still no horse was to be found. I began to think the fiend was in the horse. On this circle I had walked over fifteen miles, and clambered up and down some of the highest and rockiest mountains in the country, worn out the toes of my boots, and torn off one of the heels, bruised my knees and cut my hands on the sharp rocks in clambering down precipices, and all in vain. I was too much exhausted to be wrathy or swear just then, so I determined to dismiss the subject, return to camp, throw myself in the shade, and recur to the matter in the cool of the evening, when I could do it justice. But on nearing camp I forgot all my bitter thoughts on seeing the runaway fast-roped to a tree. Whoever has been placed in a similar predicament, will easily recall the feeling of relief experienced on seeing the stray again safe and fast. Verily the ninety-nine that went not astray, are as naught. It was to our stupid know-nothing "Jeems" after all, that we were indebted for the finding of the horse. Seeing and comprehending the state of affairs, he started out on his own hook and without a word to any one, and shortly brought the horse in—indeed had come back with him two hours before I returned. The horse had not been in the cañon we were searching at all. Of course "Jeems" did not let this occasion pass without asking for "heap-a-money," and Tom shelled out four bits, with which amount in his pocket Jim considered himself a well-to-do member of Piute society.

About two o'clock we packed up, and bidding goodbye to the Gold Hill boys, struck out for Silver Hill, supposed to lie some fifteen miles north of Cliff's Springs. Passing down the cañon through the rocky gateway by which we first entered, we again turned our horses and headed northward, skirting along the base of the mountains over the low sand hills. This afternoon's travel was over a monotonous succession of sand hills, and deep gullies, with no feature of marked or special interest, except that in one place we passed close along the base of a range of steep hills of metamorphic rocks, in which the action of the water from the melting snows on the more elevated ranges, had worn channels fifty to two hundred feet in depth. These channels were often not more than five feet in width, with perpendicular walls of smooth solid rock. I should have been pleased to have explored some of these dark winding lanes could we have spared the time. Some of them appeared to widen out into extensive rooms beyond the narrow outer portal. Soon after starting, our "Jeems" complained of a pain in his side, and I dismounted and allowed him to ride several miles; afterward he took the nose-bleed, and Bob allowed him to ride—though Bob and I first exchanged horses, as "Jeems" thought "gray" "too mucha fast"—so with one excuse and another, Jeems made out to ride more than half the time.

Toward evening our stock of water gave out, and immediately on discovering this to be the case, we all became very thirsty, and were constantly talking of and wishing for a spring. At length we saw, some distance ahead, a small circular patch of tall, sedgey grass, about ten feet in diameter, standing in the midst of the open sandy desert, and on reaching it, we all rushed up to quench our thirst. In the centre of the patch of grass, was a small puddle of cool water, but after tasting it Bob declared it tasted like carrion, and that it would be impossible to drink it; however, at my request, he filled one of the canteens, and seizing it I shut my eyes, held my breath, and swallowed over a pint of it before getting a taste of its quality. When I did catch the flavor I would willingly have been rid of what I had just been so eager to obtain. The infernal stuff nearly took away my breath. To make a feeble imitation of this refreshing beverage: Take one pint of gun-washings, to which add two ounces each of salt, carbonate of soda, alum and copperas—to be drank on an empty stomach. For an hour or two after drinking this water, I suffered with a severe pain in my stomach, but had learned a lesson, and during the rest of the trip "took in" water from strange springs with extreme caution. Before reaching Silver Hill, we found some better water, but still not free from the nauseating alkali. At dusk we found our trail suddenly turn to the left around the point of a mountain and enter the mouth of a broad canon very much resembling the Arroyo Grande, and after passing up this a short distance another turn to the left showed us the camp-fires of the Silver Hill miners —a most welcome sight to all hands, for we really began to think we were never to find the diggings, having looked in vain up the last dozen cañons.

The first camp-fire we struck on riding into the camp, was that of our old Cliff Springs friends, Wallace and Harvey, Scott and Mac. They greeted us with a friendly huzza as we emerged from the dusk of the cañon into the circle of light about their fire, and congratulated us upon our safe arrival and recovery of the lost horse. They had only reached camp about two hours before, and having but just eaten supper, very kindly offered us the use of their fire, what bread they had left, and other et ceteras, equally acceptable and opportune. Our horses were speedily unsaddled, the jackass unpacked, watered and driven down the cañon to graze. Scott, or Scotty as we now called him—since having given Tom the more high-sounding title of Smyth-ee—Scotty and Mac assisted us about preparing supper, and soon we were munching the esculents, laughing and chatting, perfectly at home in our new quarters. Smyth-ee always would have his joke, and always could find something out of which to manufacture a story, and get up a laugh at somebody's expense. This evening he edified the boys by giving them a most ludicrous description of my having fallen from my horse because of his becoming dreadfully frightened, and "starting off on a trot," and how, on seeing me "rolling down the hill with a tremendous clatter of canteens, guns, revolvers, powder-flasks, game-bags and brandy-bottles," the "old horse was so terror-stricken at what he had done, that he immediately got down on his knees, shut his eyes, and gave himself up for lost." As I have given in the first number of these papers, a full and faithful account of that grave catastrophe, I can afford to let Smyth-ee have his say.

After supper, I took a sort of gaslight view of the town. First, above Wallace's camp, there was a one-horse buggy, then a two-horse wagon, then a fire, then a tent, then another fire, a brush shanty and a tent, and a fire and another tent. This was about all I could see, but then it was enough to show that we were in no insignificant city. Some of our Washoe cities could not approach it in size and importance by two tents, a wagon and a buggy, one camp-fire and a brush shanty, and two other camp-fires. Having viewed the city, we next looked about us for a spare bedroom, and, with the assistance of Harvey, Scotty, Mac, Wallace and his dog, found a place between a couple of big rocks, lately occupied by some Spaniards, but which we concluded to jump, "including all dips, spurs, angles and variations"—(as these gay and festive cusses, the miners, say in their notices), "thanking God," especially, for the "variations." Heretofore we had all slept in one bed, but to-night Smyth-ee grabbed all the blankets he could lay his hands on, and when we asked him to bring them back, swore he had seceded; notwithstanding the fact that we had always allowed him the part in the bed where tradition says the peddler froze to death, i.e. the middle. He persisted in declaring that I—great Moses, that I should be accused of so base an act!—that I was in the nightly habit of "stealing all the cover and leaving him"—Smyth-ee—"coiled up in a small pile, nose and knees together, to suffer from frost-bite, blight and mildew, and with all the starry host above winking derisively, and even that sober old settler, the man-in-the-moon, poking his head behind a passing cloud to keep from grinning in his face." Preposterous as was this story, Smyth-ee, after being forced to disgorge several pair of blankets, was allowed to "secede" peaceably, and I may as well here state that he never afterwards came into the union.

When we awoke the next morning, the sun was just peeping over the summits of the mountains eastward beyond the desert, and already the miners were astir in the various camps, kindling fires or frying bacon for the morning meal. By the light of day, a few hitherto unseen shanties were visible, and one canvas structure loomed up as the Astor of the city. I found we were located in a large cañon running nearly east and west, with precipitous and rocky walls some three hundred feet in height, and crowned in places with a sparse growth of scrubby nut pine. Beyond and above the immediate walls of the cañon, on either side, vast gray mountains ascended to an immense height, with their jagged outlines clearly defined against the cold blue of the sky. All of the hills in the immediate neighborhood of the canon, are formed of talcose or mica slate, with bunches and ribbons of quartz visible in many places in the face of the perpendicular cliffs.

After breakfast we went out to see the Silver Hill lead, it being considered the "big thing" of the district. We found the lead located on the summit of a small hill near the mouth of the cañon, and near the base of a high mountain that belongs to the main range on the west—Two men were at work in a shaft, some ten feet in depth, and several tons of rock were strewed about, but very little that could be called ore. "They say" that some large assays have been obtained from this lead. The pure, white rock (we were told) assays as high as seven hundred dollars per ton: where there is a show of metal, eighteen hundred dollars is the common assay obtained. Having viewed the lead, Harvey, Bob and myself concluded to go out and hunt feed and water for our animals, and herd them till time to "drive in." Smythee, Mac and Scotty came to the conclusion that they were not "on the prospect," and betook themselves to camp. We traveled south about five miles before finding water and feed, and after staying out all day without a mouthful of grub, returned with the stock in the evening, the only noteworthy occurrence of the day being the wounding of a badger by Bob; and as neither Harvey nor I had the good fortune to witness that remarkable feat, it will perhaps be most prudent in me not to afflict the reader with the heart-rending story of the agony that unfortunate "animile" suffered whilst crawling up the perpendicular face of a smooth cliff of rocks, with his back broken in two places and both fore legs badly shivered, in making his retreat to his hole—of all of which "Robert" gave us a most graphic and affecting picture.

On reaching camp we found Wallace in a high state of excitement; Tom—I beg pardon—Smyth-ee on his "high hoss," and Mac considerably permeated with glee. Wallace takes me aside and whispers in my ear the great discovery. Smyth-ee whispers to me the great discovery, and I suddenly became pregnant with joy, and give birth to enthusiastic exclamations. We all get round Bob and Harvey and innoculate them with our gladness. The miners in the neighboring tents poke out their heads, pretending to be gazing in the opposite direction, when they are in reality watching our every move out of the corners of their eyes, and eagerly listening to catch a word that may give them some clue to this new `big thing"—this great dog in the dust, of which they can only see the faintest premonitory symptoms. At last I ask. "where is he?" Harvey asks, "where is he?"—and Bob asks, "where is he?" "O! we've got him, sure!" Wallace, Mac and Tom answer in a breath. "We've got him! He's all right, you bet! He has promised to stay all night and go with us tomorrow to the place! O, he's a good Injun—a Capitan! None of your common root hog fellers! Here he comes, you can see the stuff on his face now!" Capitan Juan approaches. We all gather round him and examine his face. The examination proves satisfactory. We shake each other's hands. We congratulate each other. We feel good. That's what is the matter with us. "Cinnabar, without a doubt! Cinnabar!—of course it is! O, yes, the pure quill!" we all exclaim. "A mountain of it," says Wallace, "and Capitan John says he will take us to it." Grand chorus:—"O, we're all rich; we won't own the king for a cousin!"

The next morning was the time set to start on this expedition in search of a quicksilver mine, and it was settled that the following persons should make up the party: Harvey, Wallace, Bob, Mac and myself, with Captain Juan in the lead, as "big Injun" of the expedition. Captain Juan spoke tolerably good English—very good Spanish, Shoshone and some other Indian tongues. He had lived two or three years in California, working on a ranch most of the time while there. He said he had followed the plow many a day. He had also traveled through nearly all the large towns in Southern California; had made the trip from Monterey to San Francisco on a steamboat, also from San Francisco to Sacramento by steamboat. He was apparently about thirty years of age, of medium height and well built, with a broad forehead, large, bright, expressive eyes, and an open, honest expression of countenance, which we found no reason to complain of, as being a false sign, hung out for selfish motives. He wore his hair long, falling down over his shoulders, with a broad band of otter skin passing around his forehead and ornamented behind with tassels of beads and ribbons of various colors. Two locks of hair on either side of his face, were braided and wound with beads, and in his ears he wore curiously carved and brilliantly tinted shells. Moccasins, blue cloth pantaloons and gray woolen shirt completed his attire. He rode a small, sinewy, bay mare, with a keen looking little bay colt trotting constantly at her side.

I have been thus particular in describing the personal appearance of Capitan Juan for the reason that he will figure very prominently in the future pages of these wayward rambles. I believe I omitted to state, in describing his ornaments, that his face was painted of a bright vermilion hue. This at first sight gave him rather a fierce, sullen look, and it was not till one had been some time with him, and learned to look through and beneath this veil, that the impression wore off. Juan was the ruler of seventeen Indians, and held their lives in his hands. At any sufficient offense he could shoot them down, but this power is seldom used, and, it is said, never abused. No Indian who is not a Capitan, is allowed to paint his face red, or wear the otter band on his brow. These are the peculiar insignia of the office of Capitan. If the Capitan wants a thing done, he orders the first Indian he sees to do it, and it is done cheerfully, no matter whether the Indian belongs in his village or not, for a Capitan is obeyed by all the "root-hog" Indians in the tribe. Thus, while at Silver Hill, though there was not a single man there from Juan's village, he sent them out to watch his mare and to bring her in when he wanted her, and was always obeyed instantly and cheerfully. I saw another Capitan at Silver Hill ask the Indians, who were lounging around, for what tobacco they had, and every one marched up and emptied his pockets, without as much as a wry face. Even our "Jeems" toed the mark, and disgorged some half-dozen small pieces he had in his possession. Apparently not a man reserved to himself a single crumb to comfort himself withal—but then they did some very lively begging shortly after, to get even again.

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CHAPTER VI

EARLY in the morning the animals were brought in, and breakfast being disposed of we saddled our good steeds and having seen that our faithful and hardy little burro was packed with all of the essentials for the trip, that our shooting irons were all in order and loaded, and that the canteens were filled with fresh water, the word was passed—"to horse!" and we "to-horsed." We were all in fine spirits, our horses fresh and fiery, and as we left camp amid the friendly cheers of our friends and thundered single file down the cañon at the heels of our wild Indian guide, whose long, black locks streamed in the wind, I fancy we made quite a picturesque appearance. We were off for the quicksilver mines, or at least for a region where that metal was supposed to be; at all events we were off for a new and strange country where no white man ever set foot, and little we cared as we bounded along that morning whether we found quicksilver or not—at least I didn't care a single snap.

Our route lay along the skirts of the desert and was a good smooth road except occasional narrow gutters of a few feet in depth. We were traveling in a north-east course from Silver Hill along the base of the sedimentary range, with the broad, level desert on our right, on the far side of which loomed up the great dark peaks lying west of Reese river.

I left the train after getting out some five miles, and bore off to the right toward a brush flat on the outskirts of the desert, to look for hare; and Capitan Juan, after giving directions to the rest of the party about the course they must travel, turned his mare and accompanied me. We found the game scarce and very wild; though I was near enough on one or two occasions to hare to have killed them, but was prevented from firing by my horse shying when I raised my gun; on one occasion I started a hare and it darted off at full speed past where Juan was riding along, some seventy yards on my left; stopping his horse, he began a shrill monotonous clucking, and the hare instantly stopped, and after listening a moment came trotting toward him. As long as he could hold his breath and keep up this noise the hare would come forward, but the instant the noise ceased the hare would turn to run. The rabbit was coming up finely and Juan turned to me and beckoned me to approach; without making, however the least halt in his clucking. It was very open ground, and it appeared to me to be folly to ride toward the rabbit when it was headed toward where I was standing; but I tried it; singular as it may appear, that rabbit did not pay the least attention to or seem to see me. At every break in the tune Juan was singing, though only lasting an instant, while he was catching a fresh breath, the rabbit would make a move to turn and run away, but on his resuming would continue to approach. If ever there was a bewitched rabbit this was one. Although it showed signs of fear, yet while the tune was going it seemed deaf and blind to everything else, and seemed to move into danger in spite of itself. The rabbit was within thirty feet of Juan and within twenty yards of me, but in spite of all I could do my horse would shy and plunge whenever I attempted to take aim. Juan, who had one eye on me and the other on the rabbit, seeing the state of affairs lost patience and called out— "shoot quick!" Though he caught up the tune again, he had taken too long a breath—the charm was broken, and the hare darted away beyond recall. This ended the hunt, for Juan said it was of no use trying further with such a horse—I had left my horse at Silver Hill on account of lameness and was now riding Tom's; after this experience I did not wonder at Tom having such excellent luck in wounding rabbits—being of the same opinion, we turned about to head off our party at a great gap in the mountains nearly opposite to where we then were. On reaching this gap, as we did just as our party came up, it proved to be the mouth of an immense arroyo with a level and dry bed over two hundred yards in width. Juan informed us that our course would now be up this canon and to the north-west, till we had crossed the mountains. The hills on both sides of the mouth of this canon were composed of stratified rocks of a sandy structure but changed in color by heat to a deep blood red. We asked the "Capitan" if this was the kind of rock he used in making his paint, but he said— "No, this kind not mucha good; me show you, poco tiempo, what is better wano." On account of the redness of the hills at the mouth of this canon we named it "Saa-kaa-pee Ko-wus" or red cañon.

After passing some distance up the cañon, the hills on either side became mountains and the nature of the rocks also changed from the massy, burnt, sandy formation to a dark shelly slate. Near the junction of the two formations we found indications of springs, the bed of the cañon being covered by a dense growth of willows and small bushes of various kinds, among which was a species of wild currant loaded with ripe fruit. In an instant all hands tumbled from the saddles and rushed pell-mell into the thickest of the fruit, leaving the horses to take care of themselves in a patch of grass near by. These currants were of about the same size and appearance as the cultivated kinds and of an agreeable, tart taste. Having imbibed a considerable amount of alkali within the last week, we hungered exceedingly after something of an acid nature, and these currants seemed a godsend—verily we slighted not the "good things" of the wilderness but "waded in" with a will! There were two varieties of these currants, one white, the other red, but no perceptible difference in flavor. At length Capitan Juan mounted his mare and called out for us to come on, and catching up our horses we mounted and fell in line behind our painted leader.

As we passed up the arroyo the mountains on either side became higher, more precipitous and bare of soil, but the nature of the rock remained the same. We saw several lumps of carbonate of copper lying amongst the drift in the bed of the canon; some of these were quite pure and of ten or fifteen pounds in weight, but quicksilver was the thing—we didn't want a copper mine.

We now passed a deep cañon coming down from the mountains of bare rock on our right, which was certainly the roughest and most jagged gorge we saw in these mountains—Sharp rocks projected from its walls, and little islands of sharp spires shot up in its channel. Capitan Juan said that two Americans once came down it; they must have thought "Jordan" a hard thoroughfare—this we named Arroyo Aspero. Some three miles above this canon our guide came to a halt, and told us that we could go no further up the main canon with horses, as it was crossed in many places by perpendicular cliffs. The thing to be done now, was to dismount and commence climbing up the banks of the canon to some upper region, where Juan said we would find some of his own people and good grass and water. We could see from where we stood that it would be out of the question for us to go further on the main ravine, and the way up a steep mountain spur to which Juan pointed did not look much more inviting. On our right it would have been impossible to have ascended without the aid of wings, for the mountain on that side arose almost perpendicular to the height of three thousand feet; these mountains were bare of soil on the southern face and showed their strata beautifully defined and variegated from base to summit. There were belts of white, blue, gray, brown and black, of such regularity as to appear as though done with a painter's brush. We had seen this mountain and remarked on its singular appearance when camping forty miles further south. Capitan Juan took his wiry little bay, while we all dismounted and led our animals after him. On reaching the first bench, at an elevation of three hundred feet above the cañon, we halted and Juan went down into a ravine and brought up an armful of branches of currant bushes red with fruit.

Taking another start, we zigzagged up a second hill for near half a mile, landing on a second bench, where after a short rest we commenced the ascent of a third hill, or rather mountain, and the most formidable we had yet encountered. Our upward progress was slow and laborious as we could not proceed directly up the face of the mountain, but were forced to beat our way upward by long tacks, leading our horses carefully along the steep ascent. Juan stuck to his saddle, and his little mare carried him bravely to the summit, showing less sign of fatigue than any animal in the train. We now found ourselves on a narrow ridge, or back bone, separated from a second ridge of the same character on the right, by a deep and narrow gorge in the bottom of which was a rank growth of sedgy grass and pah nee-niet (spring of water) toward which we plunged downward along the steep bank of the gorge.

The spring was shallow and the flow of water very weak, and before we were able to prevent them, our horses, burning with thirst, had crowded into it and trampled it into a bed of mire. Juan laughed at our rueful looks, and said he would soon take us to where there was plenty of good water, grass and wood. He spurred his fiery little bay up the precipitous slope of the opposite bank of the gorge, and, following his example, we reached the summit of the second back-bone, from which we could see before us to the west, a little valley of some two hundred acres, sloping to the east, or toward us.

This valley was covered by a most luxurious growth of bunch grass and mountain red-top, with groves of nut-pine in groups about its borders; here and there we saw Indian women, with their conical baskets on their heads, gathering the harvest of grass seed, while the children were playing near by in the shade of the pines. Following upward this narrow ridge till we reached a point where we could descend into the valley, we left it and were soon in the midst of the soaring red-top and golden bunch-grass. As we rode across the valley, the inhabitants discovered us and two or three young boys came bounding forward to join us; two of these were brothers—short, fat, pumpkin-headed fellows, the eldest wearing a man's frock coat, with the sleeves turned up nearly to his elbows and the tail sweeping the ground, and the other a great woolen shirt tied about his middle with a strip of cloth; the third boy was tall and slender with no clothing but a strip of flour-sack for a breech-clout, moccasins, and a pound or two of the beads about his neck and falling over his breast; his hair fell down his back nearly to his waist, and in his left hand was his bow and three long, slender, feather-tipped arrows. As these boys came up, they all ran to Capitan Juan and showed great pleasure at seeing him; the tall boy last described, came up to Harvey, who was driving the jackass, and, taking the whip, commenced to "cut up" said burro, shouting—"Whoa-haw! come up here, G—d d—n you!" This was every word of English he could speak, and he seemed very proud of this accomplishment—he evidently had been taking notes from the emigrants.

I may as well state here, that, this boy was "Charley"—"Charley Dootsee Capitan," as we styled him; that is—"Little Capitan Charley," though he did not receive the name till afterward. Our guide led us through a thick grove of pines, and we emerged at the head of a broad, deep cañon, or rather valley, at the head of which was a large spring of most excellent water, and on the slopes below an abundance of good grass for the animals. Here we halted for dinner; it was long after noon, and we were all tired and hungry.

The Indian boys were sent for wood, of which there was an abundant supply near by, and, all hands assisting, we soon had dinner "on the table." The smoke of our fire had scarce curled above the sage brush before our Indian neighbors began to drop in: first came two old men, one of whom was little Charley's father, then three squaws—old, ugly, and ragged—with several small children. As we eat our meal, these gather about and watch with eager, hungry eyes, each mouthful, and with their silent longing, seem to rebuke us for having such frightfully good appetites; their looks say plainer than words—"Will these selfish Waamoogenas devour all?" We would like to give the whole hungry crew a square meal, but it is impossible; we can only give each a small taste of bread. Capitan Juan now tells us that there is a sick woman in the village, who has heard of our coming and has sent to know if we will give her a little sugar—a little peehappe, to make her happy and well--and "who knows," said Capitan Juan, "but it make her sick go away." A child had died that morning; it was the child of the sick woman. Charley's father was sick; he had the consumption and coughed almost constantly; he sat near our fire, wrapped in his rabbit skin robe, with his chin on his knees, and languidly followed our motions with his hollow eyes; evidently his time of departure for the "happy hunting grounds" was fast approaching; soon he would stand in the presence of the great Pah-Ah, and receive that bow that can never break or fail and those arrows that can never miss the mark, and hear the glad words: "kill and eat; hunger no more."

The beads worn by Charley were his mother's, when she was living; she was now dead and they had been placed on little Charley's neck, he being the only heir. Charley seemed to be running wild in the village, shifting for himself and picking up a living as best he could; for his father could afford him but little assistance in his feeble condition. From the moment he first saw him, Mr. Wallace took a great liking to Charley, and determined to have him, if the Indians would part with him. On speaking to Capitan Juan about the matter, he said that it would be best for the boy and he would see what could be done with his father. Mr. Wallace promised, if he would gain the consent of the father, that he would give him (Juan), a pair of blankets, a pair of pantaloons and some flour and sugar. After some talk, Juan said that he thought the boy would go, but couldn't say for certain, yet; he stipulated that, if the boy was allowed to go, he should receive a thorough scrubbing, have his hair cut, a la Americana, and be sent to school till he had learned to read and write; in conclusion, he said, glancing toward Charley, and laughing—"you maybe not make um altogether white man, but you wash um good with soap, he be not very black." He than translated what he had said to Charley, who hung his head and laughed. This stopping place we christened the Taaweeno-Baddio, or Noon Camp.

Dinner being over, the animals were driven up, and we were again, a cheval, and under way, for the quicksilver mountains, leaving our Indian friend, Charley's father, et alii, sitting disconsolately about our late camps; Charley was bounding along with us, bow in hand and ratstick in belt, the merriest, happiest soul of all. I will here mention, what I should have spoken of sooner, that, while we were getting dinner, Capitan Juan sent Charley down to the village for a paint-ball, kept there for his use when he chanced to visit the village, and made from rock dug at the famous mountain he had been telling us of. Charley soon returned with a mass of blood-red mineral of about the size and shape of a goose egg; it certainly looked enough like cinnabar to be the thing itself, but having no facilities for testing, we could only guess it might be what we hoped. It had evidently been reduced to a fine powder, and kneaded into its present shape with some kind of grease, as, indeed, Juan explained it had. As we could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion from an examination of the specimen, we determined to visit the mountain itself.

Our route after leaving the spring lay along the very topmost ridge on the range, affording a splendid view of the country as far as the eye could reach in all directions; over red or brown peaks and yellow and white deserts in the country near by, and of dim, dark, smoky mountains in the far-off regions. On our left, and to the westward, far, far down below us gleamed and glittered in the afternoon sun the Paawah-you Tooroop, or "Great Desert," lying north of the Lower Sink of the Carson. The northern part of this great desert waste was now hidden, as were the mountains to the northward, by an immense rolling cloud of yellowish-red dust. High up, thousands and thousands of feet above the desert's level, arose this moving mass of impalpable alkaline sand, and stretching away to the east towered above and rolled over the tallest peaks of the range we were then on, and crossing the great desert to the east obscured the mountains of the range beyond, near Reese River.

In the morning and during the forenoon there is no dust seen to rise on this desert, all is clear and bright as far as the eye can see; but about one o'clock begins to be seen tall slender columns of dust, rising often perpendicularly to the height of a thousand feet, till reaching a current in the upper air when the top of the column is bent over or flattened and streams away to the eastward. In the commencement there is often but a single pillar, but soon another and another arises and like stately giants they chase each other across the plain, till soon all mingle into one confused, flying mass, and so continues till sundown or after. This happened regularly every afternoon when we were camped on the lake or to the eastward, as we could see by the dust-cloud streaming over the summits of the mountains. Far out and near the center of the Paawah-you Tooroop, rises a singular and solitary cone a hundred feet in height; all around lies the desert as level as an unruffled lake, not a ridge or hillock near. This cone is perfectly smooth and regular but is flattened and apparently depressed on the summit; on questioning Juan concerning it he said there was a spring in its top, but the water was bad, very—"Pah-you Avea-Daga"—the devil's water. It is doubtless, a hot or mineral spring, and this cone must have been formed by the concretion of the contained salts with earthy matter ejected from its crater.

After traveling about five miles along the summit, over a smooth road, we passed on our right several of the elevated mountain meadows so common on the highest of these mountains. There were fountains and rills of coolest and purest of water seen in every little valley, waving willows and trembling aspens—a very paradise for the wild, roving people of the desert! As we were passing through a beautiful grove of pines crowning a knoll that rose up in our path along the summit, Capitan Juan pointed out the grave of an Indian beside the trail, and said—"There we put one of my people, a man." "Is he there now?" I asked. "No," pointing toward Heaven, "he hunts with the good bow." "No," said I, to draw out his ideas of the future state, and of man's immortality, "no, he is here—dig there and you will find his bones—his head, his legs, his arms. How can a man hunt when he has neither legs to walk nor an arm to draw a bow?" "Pah-Ah has given him better legs, that are never tired—he don't want his old legs or old arms there; he takes nothing." "Then he may not go—if nothing goes he is still here?" "His dream goes—no head, no legs, no arms—only his dream!"

This was much better than I expected from a Piute; but whether all of the tribe have the same sound notions, or whether Capitan Juan had learned this doctrine in California during his travels, I cannot say. I questioned him further on the subject; but found out nothing more than what is contained above; and that night we talked further of the matter, when he said that there was a place where bad Indians went, and that the big Capitan of that country was Avea-Daga—the devil—and the people there were always hungry, there was no water there but alkali water, and Avea-Daga roasted them with fire and made them walk in red-hot sand. But the other country above—and he pointed upward to the stars—was very good. The big Capitan was "Pah Ah." There were plenty of squaws to do all the work, plenty of water, and the good men were never hungry. According to his doctrine there was no place of rest for the poor squaws, who certainly deserve rest in the next world, for they get but little in this.

In pointing out the locality inhabited by Avea-Daga and his wretched people, Capitan Juan always pointed downward toward the centre of the earth. I asked little Charley about the old gentleman and his country, and he always located him in the same place; and when I remarked that he was a "very fine old fellow," laughed, and said "no, he was a very bad fellow." I have asked dozens of Indians where Avea-Daga lived, and they always give him the lower berth and a bad name.

After passing the grave, we soon came to an abrupt break in the chain of mountains, and Capitan Juan pointed out to me a small meadow far down on the west side of the mountain, as the place where we would camp for the night. To reach this spot we had it down hill every foot of the way, but there was a little too much of a good thing—down hill, but straight down is not so well. However, as the little valley was down there, and not likely to come up to us, we must take Mohammed's plan, and go to it; so, dismounting and leading our animals by the lariats, we commenced the descent.

As there would be nothing particularly interesting to the reader, in telling how our horses plunged and plowed down the steep, I will cut the story short and say we have landed safe and sound at the foot of the mountain. At length we are at the bottom of the last descent, and as my comrades in advance, turn into the cañon around a projecting spur, they shout: "Meadows, ho! Hay bastante yerba!" But our illustrious Capitan has caught sight of a rat on the side of the canon, and points out where we are to find the spring and pitch our camp, while he stops to pursue the noble game. If one of these wild rats is seen to hide under a rock, you can no more get an Indian to pass without stopping to catch it, than you could a Chinaman from halting among a drove of roasted puppies. Though I have spoken of these little animals as rats, yet they are different from any species of rats known in civilized lands, and in some respects resemble the common ground squirrel; their color is an uniform dirty gray; they have a short, flat tail, and short, stout legs, but their heads are rat, and rat only, with the pointed nose and black, protruding, glittering beads of eyes; but again, unlike either rats or squirrels, they are innocent of the slightest trace or even premonitory symptoms of ears—altogether, they are an unique little beast, with anything but a "game" look. We found the springs, and soon our animals were grazing around us on our green meadows, (ours by right of discovery) and we had set our new home in order, and were now stretched on our blankets in the shade, pipes in our months, reaping industry's reward. This camp we called "Tokano-Baddio," or the Sunset Camp; but it is not yet sunset, nor was the camp named till after. It is three hours till dark, and we have time to take quite a ramble before sundown among these curious hills.