[William Wright (Dan DeQuille), "Snow-Shoe Thompson," The Overland Monthly, October 1886]

 

"SNOW-SHOE THOMPSON."

 

            THE most remarkable and most fearless of all our Pacific Coast mountaineers was John A. Thompson, popularly known as "Snowshoe Thompson." For over twenty years he braved the winter storms, as both by day and by night he traversed the high Sierra. His name was the synonym of endurance and daring everywhere in the mountains, where he was well known, and famous in all the camps and settlements. He was seldom seen in the valleys, or any of the large towns, except Sacramento, as he only went when business called him. Notwithstanding that he seldom left his mountain home, there are but few persons of middle age on this side of the continent who have not heard of " Snow-shoe Thompson," or who have not in times past read an occasional paragraph in regard to some one of his many wonderful exploits. Before the completion of the Central Pacific Railroad, when he was regularly crossing the Sierra Nevadas during the

420 " Snow-Shoe Thompson."  [Oct.

winter months, with the mails strapped upon his back, more was heard of him, through the newspapers and otherwise, than during the last few years of his life ; yet every winter up to the last he lived, he was constantly performing feats that excited the wonder and admiration even of his neighbors and friends, though for years they had been familiar with his powers of endurance, and his undaunted courage.

            These feats would have been heralded far and wide had they been performed in a more accessible or populous region. He, however, thought lightly of the daring and difficult things he did. They were nearly all done in the course of his regular business pursuits. It was very seldom that he went out of his way to do a thing merely to excite astonishment, or elicit applause.

            John A. Thompson was a most industrious, energetic, public-spirited, and deserving man. The early settlers on both sides of the Sierra Nevada Mountains were much indebted to him, as for months during the winter season there would have been no communication between the eastern and western slopes, or between California and the older States by overland mail, but for his enterprise and daring. It is strange that no connected and extended notice of his life, labors, and achievements has thus far been written. Nearly ten years have elapsed since his death, and about all that can be learned in regard to the career of "Snow shoe Thompson " is from paragraphs published from year to year in times past, and scattered through all the newspapers of the Pacific Coast. His exploits and experiences in the mountains, which would fill a volume, are liable to pass into oblivion in a few years more. The experiences were nearly all lost when he ceased to live, as he alone could properly relate them ; and the exploits, for the most part, live only in the memories of his old friends and companions in the mountains. Among these death is busy, while some have removed to distant regions, and dates and details have faded from the minds of the few that yet remain, and are able to give some account of the main features of the old mountaineer's achievements.

            In the following sketch I have presented all that I have been able to collect, through letters written to those mountain men who knew Thompson ; also all that I can recollect of his adventures as related to me by himself, only two or three months before his death, when I had a long talk with him -- a talk which was, at the time, supposed to be but preliminary to many talks, when he would more particularly enter into the story of his " disastrous chances, moving accidents," and "hair-breadth 'scapes." There are, doubtless, still many matters of interest in regard to the life and labors of " Snow-shoe Thompson " that might be gathered by a personal visit to the field of those labors, and to the people among whom his busiest years were spent ; but it is worth while to preserve thus much of his achievements amid the snows and storms of the wilds of the Sierra.

            JOHN A. THOMPSON, the man to whom the people of the Pacific Coast gave the name of " Snow-shoe Thompson," was born at Upper Tins, Prestijeld, Norway, April 30, 1827 ; and died at his ranch in Diamond Valley, at the head of Carson Valley, thirty miles south of Carson City, Nevada, May 15, 1876, after an illness of but a few days. Mr. Thompson was a man of splendid physique, standing six feet in his stockings, and weighing 180 pounds. His features were large, but regular and handsome. He had the blonde hair and beard, and fair skin and blue eyes of his Scandinavian ancestors ; and looked a true descendant of the sea-roving Northmen of old. Although he spoke English as well as a native born American, one would not have been much surprised to have heard him break forth in the old Norse. Had he lived in the days when his ancestors were carrying terror to all the coasts of Europe, he would have been a leader, if not a king, among them. On the sea he would have been what he was in the mountains -- a man most adventurous, fearless, and unconquerable.

            At the age of forty-nine years, he seemed in the very prime of life. His eye was bright as that of a hawk, his cheeks were ruddy, his frame muscular, and his tout ensemble that of

1886.]  " Snow-Shoe Thompson." 421

a hardy mountaineer, ready to take the field, and face the dangers of the wilderness and the elements, at a moment's notice. His face wore that look of repose, and he had that calmness of manner, which are the result of perfect self-reliance, and a feeling of confidence in the possession of the powers to conquer. He was a man who seemed out of place in the valleys. Next to the "saeterdale " and " fjelle" of his native land, his true home was where he selected it, amid the grand rocks, peaks, and pines of the Sierra.

            In the year 1837, when ten years of age, Thompson left his native land, and with his father and family came to the United States. The family made Illinois their first halting place, but in 1838 they left that State, and went to Missouri. In 1841, the family left Missouri, and went to Iowa, where they remained until 1845, when they returned to Illinois.

            In 1851, Mr. Thompson, then twenty-four years of age, was smitten with the " gold fever," and came across the plains to California. The trip was no more to him than it would have been to a young Indian. While living in the Western States, his spare time had always been spent in hunting deer and other game on the prairies, and in trapping quail, prairie chickens, and wild turkeys ; therefore, he was thoroughly inured to a frontier life, and about all that troubled him on the plains was the tediousness of the journey.

            He landed at Hangtown, now known as Placerville, and for a time mined at Coon Hollow and Kelsey's Diggings. He presently became dissatisfied with the life and luck of a miner, and concluded to try the valleys. He went to Putah Creek, Sacramento Valley, and set up as a ranchman. He lived on his ranch during the years 1854-'55, but his eyes were constantly turned eastward toward the mountains toward where the snowy peaks glittered against the deep blue sky. He did not feel at home in the valleys; he did not like mining ; and for a time he was undecided in what direction to turn.

            EARLY in the winter of 1856, while still at work on his Putah Creek ranch, Mr. Thompson read in the papers of the trouble experienced in getting the mails across the snowy summit of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. At the time he was engaged in cutting wood on his ranch. What he heard and read of the difficulties encountered in the mountains, on account of the great depth of the snow, set him to thinking. When he was a boy, in Norway, snow-shoes were objects as familiar to him as ordinary shoes are to the children of other lands. He determined to make a pair of snow-shoes out of the oak timber he was engaged in splitting. Although he was but ten years of age at the time he left his native land, his recollections of the shoes he had seen there were in the main correct. Nevertheless, the shoes he then made were such as would at the present day be considered much too heavy, and somewhat clumsy. They were ten feet in length, were four inches in width behind the part on which the feet rest, and in front were four inches and a quarter wide.

            Having completed his snow-shoes to the best of his knowledge, Thompson at once set out for Placerville, in order to make experiments with them. Placerville was not only his old mining camp, but was also the principal mountain town on the " Old Emigrant Road " -- the road over which the mails were then carried. Being made out of green oak, Thompson's first shoes were very heavy. When he reached Placerville, he put them upon a pair of scales, and found that they weighed twenty-five pounds. They were ponderous affairs, but their owner was a man of giant strength, and he was too eager to be up and doing to lose time in making another pair out of lighter wood.

            Stealing away to retired places near the town, Thompson spent several days in practicing on his snow-shoes. His whole soul was in the business, and he soon became so expert that he did not fear letting himself be seen in public on his snow-shoes. He was so much at home on them, that he felt he should do no discredit to his native land. When he made his first public appearance, he was already able to perform such feats as astonished all who beheld them. His were the first Norwegian snow-shoes ever seen in

422 " Snow-Shoe Thompson." [Oct.

California. At that time, the only snowshoes known were those of the Canadian pattern. Mounted upon his shoes which were not unlike thin sled runners in appearance and with his long balance-pole in his hands, he dashed down the sides of the mountains at such a fearful rate of speed as to cause many to characterize the performance as fool-hardy. Not a few of his old friends among the miners begged him to desist, swearing roundly that he would dash his brains out against a tree, or plunge over some precipice and break his neck. But Thompson only laughed at their fears. With his feet firmly braced, and his balance-pole in his hands, he flew down the mountain slopes, as much at home as the eagle soaring and circling above the neighboring peaks.

            Snow-shoe Thompson did not ride astride his guide-pole, nor trail it by his side in the snow, as is the practice of other snow-shoers when descending a steep mountain, but held it horizontally before him, after the manner of a tight-rope walker. His appearance was most graceful when seen darting down the face of a steep mountain, swaying his long balance-pole now to this side and now to that, as a soaring eagle moves its wings.

            Having satisfied himself in regard to what he could do on his snow-shoes, Thompson declared himself ready to undertake to transport the mails across the mountains. His first trip was made in January, 1856. He went from Placerville to Carson Valley, a distance of ninety miles. With the mail bags strapped upon his back, he glided over fields of snow that were in places from thirty to fifty feet in depth, his long Norwegian shoes bearing him safely and swiftly along upon the surface of the great drifts.

            Having successfully made the trip to Carson Valley and back to Placerville, Snowshoe Thompson became a necessity, and was soon a fixed institution of the mountains. He went right ahead, and carried the mails between the two points all that winter. Through him was kept up the only land communication there was between the Atlantic States and California. All then depended upon Snow-shoe Thompson, and he never failed. No matter how wild the storms that raged in the mountains, he always came through, and generally on time.

            He fearlessly set forth into the swaying and roaring pine forests, pushed across the snow-buried valleys, and faced the towering mountains, at times when other men would not have ventured a mile, from their homes. At that time, the passes through the Sierras were little known. Even those who knew something about them and the wagon road in summer, would have failed to recognize any landmarks in winter, under the disguise of a depth of snow so great, that in some of the deep valleys the tops of tall pine trees were almost buried. Often and often was it predicted, when Thompson set out, that he would not be seen again until his body was found on the melting away of the snow, the next summer. He, however, had no fear. The storms that rocked the pines did but stir his Norwegian blood -- the blood of the old Vikings -- and aroused in him a spirit of defiance, a desire to sally forth and battle with the genii of the tempest.

            The loads that Snow-shoe Thompson carried strapped upon his back would have broken down an ordinary man, though wearing common shoes and traveling on solid ground. The weight of the bags he carried was ordinarily from sixty to eighty pounds ; but one winter, when he carried the mails for Chorpenning, his load often weighed over one hundred pounds.

            In going from Placerville to Carson Valley, owing to the great amount of uphill traveling, three days were consumed; whereas, he was able to go from Carson Valley to Placerville in two days, making forty- five miles a day. Not a house was then found in all that distance. Between the two points all was a wilderness. It was a Siberia of snow. In wildness and dreariness, if not in severity, it was the equal of that northern portion of Snow-shoe's native country, in which dwell the Lapons and Qvaens ; while Sulitelma, Sneehaeten, Skagotoels and Galdhoeppigen, the highest mountains of Norway, are mere pigmies in comparison with the principal peaks of the Sierra.

1886.]  " Snow-Shoe Thompson." 423

            While traveling in the mountains, Snowshoe Thompson never carried blankets, nor did he even wear an overcoat. The weight and bulk of such articles would have encumbered and discommoded him. Exercise kept him warm while traveling, and when encamped he always built a fire. He carried as little as possible besides the bags containing the mail. During the first year or two after he went into the business, he carried a revolver. Finding, however, that he had no use for such a weapon, and it being of the first importance to travel as light as possible, he presently concluded to leave his pistol at home.

            All that he carried in the way of provisions was a small quantity of jerked beef, or dried sausage, and a few crackers or biscuits. He never carried provisions that required to be cooked. The food that he took into the mountains was all of a kind that could be eaten as he ran. For drink he caught up a handful of snow, or lay down for a moment and quaffed the water of some brook or spring. He never took with him brandy, whisky, or liquor of any kind. He was a man that seldom tasted liquor.

            Snow-shoe never stopped for storms. He always set out on the day appointed, without regard to the weather, and he traveled by nights as well as in the daytime. He pursued no regular path -- in a trackless waste of snow there was no path to follow – but kept to a general route or course. By day he was guided by the trees and rocks, and by night looked to the stars, as does a mariner to his compass. With the places of many stars he was as familiar as ever was Hansteen, the great astronomer of the land of his birth.

            At the time Thompson began snow-shoeing in the Sierras, nothing was known of the mysteries of " dope " -- a preparation of pitch, tallow, and other ingredients, which, being applied to the bottom of the shoes, enables the wearer to lightly glide over snow softened by the rays of the sun. Dope appears to have been a California discovery. It is made of different qualities, and different degrees of hardness and softness. Each California snow-shoe runner has his "dope secret," or his "pet" dope, and some are so nice in this respect as to carry with them dope for different hours of the day ; using one quality in the morning, when the snow is frozen, and others later on, as the snow becomes soft. As Thompson used no dope, soft snow stuck to and so clogged his shoes that it was sometimes impossible for him to travel over it. Thus, it frequently happened that he was obliged to halt for several hours during the day, and resume his journey at night, when a crust was frozen on the snow.

            Snow-shoe's night camps whenever the night was such as prevented him from pursuing his journey, or when it was necessary for him to obtain sleep were generally made wherever he happened to be at the moment. He did not push forward to reach particular points, as springs or brooks. He was always able to substitute snow for water, without feeling any bad effect. He always tried, however, to find the stump of a dead pine, at which to make his camp. After setting fire to the dry stump, he collected a quantity of fir or spruce boughs, with which he constructed a sort of rude couch or platform on the snow. Stretched upon his bed of boughs, with his feet to his fire, and his head resting upon one of Uncle Sam's mail bags, he slept as soundly as if occupying the best bed ever made ; though, perhaps, beneath his couch there was a depth of from ten to thirty feet of snow.

            Occasionally, his slumbers were interrupted by either disagreeable or startling accidents. Sometimes his fire, burning downward toward the roots of the stub or stump beside which he was camped, melted the snow underneath his platform of boughs to such an extent that it was undermined, and he suddenly found himself sliding down into a deep pit a pit filled with fire.

            When unable to find a dry stump, he looked for a dead pine tree. He always selected a tree that had to it a decided lean. If he could avoid it, he never made his camp beside a tree that was perfectly straight. For this there was a good reason. It very often

424 "Snow-Shoe Thompson" [Oct.

happened that the tree set on fire in the evening was burned through, and fell to the ground before morning. When he had a leaning tree, at the foot of which to encamp, he was able to make his bed on the safe side ; but when the tree stood perfectly erect, he knew not on which side of it to build his couch. It not unfrequently happened that he was aroused from sleep in the morning hours by the loud cracking of the tree at the foot of which he was reposing, and he was then obliged to do some fast as well as judicious running, in order to save his life. This was a bit of excitement that he did not crave when wearied with a hard day's travel, and he never made his camp by a decidedly straight tree, when it was possible for him to do better.

            However, he did not always camp by trees and stumps. He sometimes crawled under shelving rocks, and there made his bed of boughs, building a small fire on the bare ground in front of it. At a place called Cottage Rock, six miles below Strawberry Valley, he had a small, dry cavern, in the shape of an oven, in which he was in the habit of housing, as often as he could make it convenient to do so. There, his bed of boughs was always ready for him. Curled up in his cavern -- which was but little larger than an ordinary baker's oven -- with a fire of blazing logs in front, he slept in comfort and safety.

            This cavern was the one palatial hotel on his route. When he could reach it, he was perfectly at ease and happy. It then seemed to him that there was nothing to care for. He could give himself up to the soundest sleep, with no fear of being awakened by the crack of a falling tree, or the pawing of a grizzly. He only camped when he felt the necessity of obtaining sleep, and when sufficiently refreshed by his slumbers was in the habit of arising and pursuing his journey, whatever the hour of the day or night, provided that a blinding snow-storm and utter darkness did not prevail.

            When Snow-shoe Thompson was carrying the mail from Genoa, Nevada, to Murphy's Camp, California, in 1862, he traveled by way of Woodford's, Markleyville, Hermit Valley, and the Big Trees. At Hermit Valley were some deserted houses, and occasionally he found it convenient to lodge for a night in one of these. The snow was frequently so deep in that elevated region that it was a difficult matter to find the houses, so completely were they buried beneath the great drifts. He was obliged to prospect for the buildings, by probing the snow with his balance-pole. Even after a house was found, all difficulties were not ended. The trouble then was to get into it. When he had found a house, Thompson used to begin taking possession of it by collecting dry branches from the surrounding trees, which he threw down the chimney. Then he would dig down into the snow, tear some boards from the gable end, and so let himself in.

            At first, Thompson tried to take possession of the buildings by crawling down the chimneys, but his bulk made all such attempts ridiculous and exasperating failures. On one occasion he got stuck in a chimney when nearly down to the fire-place. For a time he could get neither up nor down. He felt himself swelling up, and for a few minutes was more frightened than he had ever been at the sight of a wild beast, or by the sharp cracking of a falling tree.

            IN talking with Thompson about his mountain experiences, I once asked him if he ever lost his way in the wilds. " No," said he, " I was never lost -- I can't be lost ! I can go anywhere in the mountains, day or night, storm or shine. I can't be lost," repeated he, tapping his forehead with his forefinger. " I've got something in here that keeps me right. I have found many persons who were lost -- dozens of men, first and last -- but I have never been lost myself. There is no danger of getting lost in a narrow range of mountains like the Sierras, if a man has his wits about him."

            Mr. Thompson then proceeded to explain that he was always able to keep his course and know his whereabouts, by observing the trees and rocks, and the configuration of the ground. Keilhan, the great Norwegian geol-

1886.] " Snow-Shoe Thompson " 425

ogist, was not a closer observer of rocks than was Thompson, so far as they concerned his business of finding his way through the mountains. Few mountain men give much attention to rocks, yet they are as good as guide-posts when understood. The central axis and crest of the Sierra range are formed of granitic rocks. These rocks, and the slates and other rocks lying in regular order below, will always tell a man who understands them just how far down the slope of the range he has gone. They will also tell him by the moss and lichens growing on them the points of the compass. An observant man may always tell whether he is on the north or the south side of the hill by the trees. There are trees growing on the south side of hills that are seldom seen on the north side. A difference in the growth of moss, and in the thickness of the bark on the north and the south sides of trees, will also be noted. When a man is lost in the mountains, he must not wander up-hill and downhill at random. As soon as he becomes aware that he has lost his reckoning, he must constantly travel down hill. If he start from a slope, this will lead him to a ravine, the ravine to a cañon, and the cañon to a creek or river. By traveling down the river, he will soon come out below the snow-line on the one side or the other of the range. He need never be out long enough to starve to death.

            " Yes," said Thompson, " I have found a great many lost men, and have rescued some men when they were at death's door. I once found a man who had been four days in Lake Valley, unable to find his way out. Every day the man set out, and every night he found himself back at the little shanty from which he set forth in the morning. He knew nothing about the course of the prevailing winds, about trees and rocks, or about the stars in the heavens, not to speak of the formation and configuration of the mountains.

            " One day the lost man got out of Lake and into Hope Valley ; yet at night he was again back in his shanty. The fellow would have starved to death up there in the mountains, had it not happened that there had been a lot of potatoes left in the shanty. He was living on these potatoes when I found him, but they would have lasted only a day or two longer.

            "I said to the man: 'When you were in the valley you describe -- Hope Valley -- didn't you see a river going down out of the mountains ?' -- 'Yes,' said he, ' I saw a river.' --  ' Well,' said I, ' that was the main branch of the Carson River. Six miles down that would have taken you into Carson Valley.' --  ' Why, I thought it was the American River, on the other side of the mountains,' said the fellow, staring at me as if he could hardly believe I was telling him the truth."

            About Christmas, in the year 1856, Snowshoe Thompson saved the life of James Sisson, who had been lying in an old deserted cabin in Lake Valley twelve days, with his feet frozen. There was some flour in the cabin, and on this Sisson had subsisted. He was in the cabin four days without a fire. During this time he ate the flour raw, just as it came from the sack. On the fifth day, while rummaging about the shanty, he had the good fortune to find some matches. These were where no one would have thought of looking for matches, as they were scattered about under some hay that lay on the floor.

            After finding the matches, Sisson made a fire and thawed out his boots, when he was able to get them off. For four days he had lain in the cabin with his boots frozen to his feet. When found by Mr. Thompson, eight days later, Sisson's legs were purple to the knees. Sisson was confident from the appearance of his legs that mortification had set in. He knew that unless his legs were amputated, he must soon die. As he could expect no assistance from the outside world, he had concluded to himself undertake to perform the required operation. There was an ax in the cabin, and with this he had determined to cut off his frozen legs. But for the opportune arrival of Thompson, Sisson would the next day have attempted to disjoint his legs at the knees ; for that was the day he had fixed upon for undertaking the operation.

426 " Snow-Shoe Thompson" [Oct.

            At the time he found Sisson, Thompson was on his way from Placerville to Carson Valley. It was in the night, and on coming to the log house which was occupied in the summer as a trading post Thompson halted for a moment, and was knocking the snow off his shoes by striking them against the cabin, when he heard some one cry out. Going inside, he found Sisson situated as related above. A considerable amount of provisions had been left in the cabin in the fall, but all except the flour had been stolen by the Indians.

            Thompson chopped a supply of wood for the unfortunate man, and making him as comfortable as was possible with the means at hand, left for Genoa to obtain assistance. While Thompson was cutting the wood, Sisson called out to him and begged him not to dull the ax -- the place being full of rocks -- as he might yet want it for the purpose of taking off his legs. Sisson was firmly of the opinion that when Thompson left him he would never see him again. He thought Thompson would never be able to get down out of the mountains, and was of the opinion that in case he did succeed in reaching the valley, he would not attempt to return to the cabin.

            Mr. Thompson told Sisson he would surely return and take him away, and advised him not to think of attempting to amputate his legs, as on cutting the arteries he would bleed to death. But Sisson had thought of that. He intended to make a sort of compress or tourniquet of some pieces of baling-rope, which he would twist round his legs with a stick, in such a way that a bit of rock would be pressed upon the arteries. Then with fire-brands he would sear the ends of the arteries, and the raw flesh of the stumps of his legs. Sisson's mind was so much occupied with his plans for the amputation of his legs, that Thompson was almost afraid to leave the ax where he could get hold of it : he did so only upon receiving from Sisson a solemn promise that he would wait three days before attempting to use it on his knees.

            On leaving the cabin, Thompson traveled all night, and early next morning arrived at Genoa. He there raised a party of six men -- W. B. Wade, Harris, Jacobs, and other old settlers -- to return with him and bring Sisson down to the valley. By Thompson's advice the party carried with them a few tools for use in making a sled. Snow-shoes were also hastily constructed for the men composing the relief party. As none of these men had ever done much traveling on snow-shoes, they furnished Thompson not a little amusement during the journey, by their mishaps and involuntary antics.

            After much hard work, the party arrived at the lone cabin late in the evening, to the great joy of Sisson, who at sight of so many men felt that he was saved. That night they constructed a hand-sled on which to carry the frozen man down to Carson Valley. In the morning they awoke to find that nearly two feet of new snow had fallen ; there was a depth of eight feet before. The new snow made it very hard to get along with the hand-sled. Under Sisson's weight it plowed deeply along, and at times was buried almost out of sight.

            The first day the party got no farther than to Hope Valley, where they encamped. Sisson was made as comfortable as possible on a bed of boughs. As they had expected to reach Genoa in one day, they had taken along with them no blanket, and but few other comforts, for the frozen man.

            The second day they reached Genoa, and at once procured the medical assistance which Sisson's case so urgently demanded. The doctors found that it would be necessary to amputate both of Sisson's feet. Before the operation could be performed, however, the physician said he must have some chloroform. As Snow-shoe Thompson never did things by halves, he at once set out, crossed the Sierra, and traveled all the way to Sacramento, in order to get the required drug. Finally, the long-delayed operation was performed. Sisson survived it, and at last accounts, was living somewhere in the Atlantic States.

            ALTHOUGH Snow shoe Thompson carried no weapons when in the mountains, he always carried matches. He kept them safe-

1886.]  " Snow-Shoe Thompson" 427

ly stowed away in a tight tin box, or securely wrapped in a piece of oiled silk.

            " One night," said he to the writer, " I lost my matches in a creek at which I stopped to drink. That night I lay out on the snow without fire. It was very uncomfortable, and I did not sleep much, but I had no fear of freezing. When awakened by the cold, I got up, exercised a little, and after that took another nap. So I put in the night."

            " I never was cold when traveling. I never had my feet, or even my fingers or ears, frozen. I was always more troubled with too great warmth than with cold. I would perspire freely at midnight on the coldest nights that ever blew. The heavy pack on my back, and my vigorous exercise, kept me warm."

            At times, when traveling at night, Thompson was overtaken by blizzards, when the air would be so filled with snow, and the darkness so great, that he could not see to proceed. On such occasions, he would get on top of some big rock, which the winds kept clear of snow, and there dance until daylight appeared ; the lateness of the hour and the blinding storm preventing his making one of his usual camps. A certain notch or pass in the mountains was much "addicted" to blizzards, and at that point was a big, flat rock on which Thompson danced many a midnight jig.

            In 1861-'62, Snow-shoe Thompson carried the United States mail on the Big Tree route. " There," said he," I once undertook to make a short cut from Woodford's to Hermit Valley by way of Markleyville or where that town now stands when I got into trouble. In the summer I had gone out to look up this cut-off. I looked through one pass, and found it would not do. Then, I found another, which I looked through, and saw that it was on a direct line -- a straight shoot -- toward Hermit Valley ; but I only looked through the pass -- did not go through it to see what was on the other side. I took it for granted that it was all right.

            " When I made my first trip for the winter in November, 1861 I struck out for my new pass. I went through it flying, but after getting through I butted up against perpendicular precipices for a whole day. These were the walls of a big cañon, through which passes one of the tributaries of the Carson River. I would rather have crossed the Snaebraen or the Folgonfondon, the biggest glaciers in Norway, than to have faced this great wall of perpendicular rock. Snowshoes were of no use against it. Finally, about night on the second day of the trip, I found a way through the cliffs, crawled up to the opposite side of the cañon, and sat down on a rock, pretty nearly tired out ; for I had on my back all this time a load of mail weighing over eighty pounds.

            " That night I did not look far for a sleeping place. I made my camp at the foot of a big pine tree, near the spot where I escaped out of the cañon. The tree I selected was one from about the roots of which the wind had blown away nearly all the snow, leaving a deep pit, such as is often seen in the winter about trees in the mountains. Down into this pit I descended, after throwing into it a supply of fuel and boughs for a bed. The surrounding wall of snow was so high that I could not see out.

            "After taking possession of the pit, I set to work and dug a hole in the wall of snow, making a place like an oven. I spread spruce boughs on the floor, making a good bed. Then I built a fire against the side of the tree. The heat of the fire was thrown back on me, and I slept comfortably all night. Two feet of new snow fell during the night, but I knew nothing of it till morning. I then awoke, and found the mouth of my den closed. At first I hardly knew what was the matter; but I presently pushed my way through the snow that blocked the door of my house, and rose through it to the full light of day. By a change of wind the snow had been lodged in the pit, had put out my fire, and had almost filled the hole to a level with the surrounding snow. In my little den I had lain as snug and warm as if I had been in the best house in the country. After that I often made such camps.

            "The third day, at four o'clock in the evening, I reached Hermit Valley, thirty-six miles from the Big Trees. All this time I

428 " Snow-Shoe Thompson" [Oct.

had lived on two biscuits, that I put into my pocket for a lunch when I left Woodford's. You see, I did not doubt that I should reach Hermit Valley in the evening of the first day. When I set out I thought my new cut-off all right ; but, like most cut-offs, it turned out all wrong."

            In Norway the frugal peasantry make a species of bread or cake of the inner bark of the pine, in years when there is a scarcity of grain. Doubtless Thompson would have gone to the pine trees for food, had he been out two or three days longer.

            Although Snow-shoe Thompson traveled through the wilds of the Sierra for more than twenty winters, he never in all that time encountered a grizzly bear, nor even saw a bear of any kind. Hundreds of times, however, he saw their tracks in the snow, and also in the mud about springs and brooks. Sometimes the tracks he saw had been so recently made that the water from the oozy ground was still running into and had not filled them. At times he was so close upon them that he imagined their odor still lingered in the air. Not unfrequently he came to places where a number of bears had been traveling together. He once saw where a troop of eight had passed along. He several times saw the track of the huge grizzly with a club-foot, known to mountain men and hunters as " Old Brin," a name given the beast on account of his being of a peculiar brindle color. When he had a clear field, Thompson did not fear the bears ; he could easily run away from them on his snowshoes.

            Said Thompson to the writer, when speaking of wild animals :

            "I was never frightened but once during all my travels in the mountains. That was in the winter of 1857. I was crossing Hope Valley, when I came to a place where six great wolves -- big timber wolves -- were at work in the snow, digging out the carcass of some animal. Now, in my childhood, in Norway, I had heard so many stories about the ferocity of wolves, that I feared them more than any other wild animal. To my eyes, those before me looked to have hair on them a foot long. They were great, gaunt, shaggy fellows. My course lay near them. I knew I must show a bold front. All my life I had heard that the wolf – savage and cruel as he is -- seldom has the courage to attack anything that does not run at his approach. I might easily run away from bears, but these were customers of a different kind. There was nothing of them but bones, sinews, and hair. They could skim over the snow like birds.

            "As I approached, the wolves left the carcass, and in single file came out a distance of about twenty-five yards toward my line of march. The leader of the pack then wheeled about and sat down on his haunches. When the next one came up he did the same, and so on, until all were seated in a line. They acted just like trained soldiers. I pledge you my word, I thought the devil was in them ! There they sat, every eye and every sharp nose turned toward me as I approached. In the old country I had heard of 'man-wolves,' and these acted as if of that supernatural kind. To look at them gave me cold chills, and I had a queer feeling about the roots of my hair. What most frightened me was the confidence they displayed, and the regular order in which they moved. But I dared not show the least sign of fear, so on I went.

            "Just when I was opposite them, and but twenty-five or thirty yards away, the leader of the pack threw back his head, and uttered a loud and prolonged howl. All the others of the pack did the same. ' Ya-hoo-oo ! yaoo, woo-oo !' cried all together. A more doleful and terrific sound I never heard. I thought it meant my death. The awful cry rang across the silent valley, was echoed by the hills, and reechoed far away among the surrounding mountains.

            "Every moment I expected to see the whole pack dash at me. I would just then have given all I possessed to have had my revolver in my hand. However, I did not alter my gait nor change my line of march. I passed the file of wolves as a general moves along in front of his soldiers. The ugly brutes uttered but their first fearful howl.

1886.]  " Snow-Shoe Thompson." 429

When they saw that their war cry did not cause me to alter my course nor make me run, they feared to come after me; so they let me pass.

            "They sat still and watched me hungrily for some time, but when I was far away I saw them all turn about and go back to the carcass. Had I turned back, or tried to run away, when they marched out to meet me, I am confident the whole pack would have been upon me in a moment. They all looked it. My show of courage intimidated them, and kept them back."

            Snow-shoe Thompson was out in the war which the people of Nevada had with the Piutes, in May, 1860, and was in the battle fought at Pyramid Lake, May 12, when the whites were routed with great slaughter. Of the one hundred and five men who went into the fight, seventy-six were killed, and several wounded. Thompson was in the thick of the fight. He was near Major Ormsby, of Carson City, when he fell. His own horse was shot from under him, and for a time he was face to face with several Indians. When the retreat began -- which was general and most disastrous -- he struck out on foot for the Truckee River. In speaking of this race for life, Thompson said : " I pledge you my word, that more than once I wished that all the valley was buried in snow, and I was mounted on my snow-shoes."

            As he ran toward the river, a horse ran after him. The frightened animal kept close at his back, as if seeking his protection. A man cried out to him : " Why don't you get on that horse, which is following behind you ? " At this Thompson wheeled about, and as he did so his elbow struck against the animal's nose. It was a horse all saddled and bridled, whose owner had fallen in the fight. Thompson mounted, and thus got away. He always said he believed the Lord sent him that horse. But for the horse, he would doubtless have been slain. The Indians followed the volunteers for nearly twenty miles, killing all they came up with.

            IN the early days, before the discovery of silver, Snow-shoe Thompson carried letters from California to the miners who were at work in the placer diggings on Gold Cañon, at and about Chinatown (now Dayton), and at Johntown, at that time the mining metropolis of Nevada -- then Western Utah. He also carried letters and papers to the miners working on Six-mile Cañon, at the head of which Virginia City now stands. He saw the hole in which Peter O'Reilley and Pat McLaughlin struck the first silver ore, a short time before the strike was made, and was told by them that they were getting " very fair prospects " in gold.

            In June, 1859, O'Reilley and McLaughlin got into a sort of heavy, blue material, filled with gold, which they did not understand. They could get nothing out of it but gold, yet it was so heavy that they thought it must be the ore of some metal. Thompson took a sample of this stuff, wrapped it in a piece of ordinary check shirting, and carried it to Placerville. There he showed it to Professor W. Frank Stewart, the well-known geologist and mining expert, who was then editing the Placerville " Weekly Observer," and to whom Snow-shoe was wont to bring items of news from Gold Cañon and the "Plains," even as far east as Salt Lake City. Mr. Stewart at once pronounced the " blue stuff" to be silver ore, of the richest kind. The sample was carried to Sacramento and assayed, where it was found to be black sulphuret of silver, and so rich that the assayer could hardly believe his figures. About the same time a sample of the ore was assayed at Nevada City, California, with the same astonishing result. Then at once broke out a grand excitement over the news of the wonderful silver discovery that had been made east of the Sierras, in  " Washoe," as the Comstock mining region was then called.

            Snow-shoe Thompson always asserted that to Mrs. L. S. Bowers, better known as the "Washoe Seeress," on account of her many predictions in regard to mining and other matters, belonged the credit of the discovery of the Comstock. He said that in 1858, when Mrs. Bowers (then the widow Cowan) was keeping a boarding-house in Johntown, she one day said to him : " Thomp-

430 " Snow- Shoe Thompson" [Oct.

son, I wish you'd see if you can't get me a peep-stone the next time you go down to Sacramento."

            " What is a peep-stone ?" asked Thompson.

            "It is a ball of glass shaped like an egg,'' said Mrs. Bowers, "and to be a good one, it should be perfectly transparent. I have one, but it is old and has become cloudy. I want you to find me one that is perfectly clear."

            " What use do you make of it ? What is it good for ? " asked Thompson.

            "I can find out all manner of things with it," said the seeress. " If anything is stolen I can find the thief, and the article stolen. By looking into the peep-stone I can see the faces of the dead ; can trace persons that are missing ; can see hidden treasure, and can see rich ore lying deep in the ground. What I now want a good peep-stone for is to find a mine that I have seen through my old one. It is the richest mine in the world. It is at no great distance from here, but I can't exactly make out its surroundings."

            Speaking of this, Thompson said : " I promised to try to find what Mrs. Bowers wanted. When I next went down to Sacramento, I visited all the stores in the city in search of a peep-stone. They laughed at me in a good many places. When I told them what a peep-stone was like, and how it was used, some laughed until tears ran down their cheeks. I had to laugh myself, yet I was determined to find a peep-stone, if there was such a thing in the place. I went to all the hardware stores, to the jewelry stores, and to every store that kept any kind of glassware. I then thought I might find what I was in search of in some out-of-the- way little shops. So I went about everywhere inquiring for a peep-stone, and nearly everywhere was laughed at. No peep-stone was to be had in all Sacramento."

            Thompson then went on to say : "My wife, who is an English woman, told me that she had seen peep-stones in England and in Scotland, when she was a girl. I think Mrs. Bowers brought her old peep-stone from Scotland." Thompson appeared to be a believer in the virtues of the peep-stone. Superstitions of many kinds prevail in the land of his birth. In the " saeter," or huts of the mountaineers, wild legends of witches and enchanters, and their doings in the days before the reign of Olaf I., are still related. Even to this day some of the peasantry believe, with the Laplanders, that certain witches keep the wind tied up in leathern bags, letting it out for good or evil, as may suit their purposes.

            Thompson said Mrs. Bowers was greatly disappointed when he returned to Johntown, and told her that in all the great city of Sacramento no such thing as a peep-stone was to be found. No doubt that city fell many degrees in her good opinion, when she found that one could not go there and at once get such an ordinary and necessary little article as a peep-stone.

            Not being able to procure a bright, new peep-stone, Mrs. Bowers fell back upon her old one. In using it, Thompson said she looked through it endwise. In this way she asserted that she could see at a certain point an immense deposit of ore. Tracing the ore upward she could see the surface ground ; but was not sure that she saw the rocks, soil and surrounding hills distinctly. Some of the cloudy spots in the peep-stone appeared to fall in the way, and mingle with the various features of the landscape.

            In the spring of 1859, Thompson went up to Six-mile Cañon, to deliver letters and papers to the miners at work in the placers at that point. While he was in the cañon, one of the miners pointed up the hill, to where a hole was visible just above the head of the ravine, and said to him : " Do you see that little cut, up there, on the hill-side ?"

            Thompson answered in the affirmative, when the miners said: "Well, that is the place that Mrs. Bowers saw in her peep-stone. She has never been up here -- has never seen the spot herself -- but the place where that work is being done agrees in every particular with what she told the boys to look for. They may yet find the big mine Mrs. Bowers describes, for they sometimes get as high as ten cents to the pan up there."

1886.] " Snow-Shoe Thompson" 431

            Thompson had almost forgotten the peep-stone. When that miraculous pebble was thus recalled, he gazed up the hill at the little excavation and its surroundings with renewed interest. The " prospects " the men were then getting at the point were such as induced them to go to a saw-mill, of which Thompson for a time had charge, and get a lot of narrow lumber (batting), from which they made a V-shaped flume, and carried upon the ground a small stream of water.

            The men who put in this flume worked in and about the cut on the hill-side, but finding they could not make much more than " grub," they gave up the diggings and went away.

            Peter O'Reilley was a Spiritualist, and also a firm believer in the powers of the Washoe Seeress and her peep-stone. Therefore, taking Pat McLaughlin with him as a partner, he went to work in the deserted hole. He and Pat worked a long time, without getting better pay than had been found by the former owners, and were about to give up and go to the placers at Dogtown, on the Walker River, when they had the good fortune to cut into a mass of decomposed black sulphuret of silver, filled with glittering spangles of free gold. The grand mining discovery of the age was that moment made -- the great Comstock silver lode was found !

            Thompson informed me that he saw the pit from which they were taking out the silver and gold, on the ground of the Ophir Mining Company, and it was at the point where the first hole was dug, in accordance with the directions given by Mrs. Bowers, and the same that was pointed out to him by the miners on Six-mile Cañon, while the first owners were still at work. Mr. Thompson always asserted, and doubtless firmly believed, that to Mrs. Bowers alone was due the credit of the discovery of the Comstock lode.

            Snow-shoe Thompson's account of the. virtues of the peep-stone is borne out by what is related of it by Lyman Jones, an old-timer on Gold Cañon, and the man who built the first house in Virginia City ; whose wife was the first white woman who lived in that town, and whose daughter Ella was the first white child seen in the place. Mr. Jones says he remembers to have seen the peep-stone used by Mrs. Bowers when she was living at Johntown. He says that on one occasion her peep-stone was the means of procuring a Mexican a " most unmerciful " whipping, and of the recovery of a lot of stolen gold dust.

            Joe Webb, a miner then working on Gold Cañon and a man well known to all old-time Nevadans had a sack of gold dust stolen. The Washoe Seeress was consulted, and in turn she consulted her peep-stone. After looking into the stone for a time, she said she could see the thief. She named a certain Mexican working on the cañon, as the man who had stolen the gold.

            The " boys " -- a lot of agreeable, good-natured six-footers -- made a social call on the Mexican named (there were then quite a number of Mexicans on Gold Cañon), and gently informed him that he was "found out," and must disgorge. The Mexican stoutly denied the theft. The " boys," however, told him that Mrs. Bowers had seen him in her peep-stone, and the peep-stone never lied. Looking into the peep-stone, she had seen him " gobble the sack," and make off with it. As the miraculous Highland pebble could not lie, the Mexican was told that he would be whipped until he produced the sack of dust.

            The " boys " then went at the fellow, and gave him a terrible whipping. The Mexican held out bravely for a time, but concluding that he would be killed if he did not give up the gold, he finally " weakened." He guided the party of lynchers to a small cedar tree standing on the banks of Nigger Ravine just east of where Silver City now stands and there, at the root of the tree, with his own hands dug up the sack of stolen dust.

            The gold recovered, the Mexican was told that he must at once leave the camp. He was not only willing, but quite anxious to go. He said he did not want to live in a place where they had " such d-----d things " as they "kept there in Johntown." If still alive, that Mexican, doubtless, has to this day a wholesome dread of all peep-stones.

432 " Snow-Shoe Thompson" [Oct.

            Snow-shoe Thompson had, no doubt, heard the story of the recovery of the stolen dust through the agency of the peep-stone, and it probably had the effect of inducing him to give greater credit to what was told him about the Washoe Seeress's pointing out the spot where the Comstock lode was first uncovered. He also, undoubtedly, was somewhat influenced in favor of her predictions, from the fact of her being descended from one of those Highland Scotch families, who claim to inherit the gift of "second sight."

            SNOW-SHOE THOMPSON was one of those unfortunate persons whose lot in life it is to do a great deal of work and endure many hardships for very little pay. For twenty winters he carried the mails across the Sierra Nevada Mountains, at times when they could have been transported in no other way than on snow-shoes. After he began the business he made his home in the mountains, having secured a ranch in Diamond Valley, when for five winters in succession he was constantly engaged in carrying the mails across the snowy range. Two years he carried the United States mails when there was no contract for that service, and he got nothing. On both sides of the mountains he was told that an appropriation would be made and all would come out right with him; but he got nothing except promises.

            When Chorpenning had the contract for carrying the mails, Thompson turned out with the oxen from his ranch and kept the roads open for a long time ; and when there at last came such a depth of snow that the road could no longer be broken, he mounted his snow-shoes and carried the mails on his back. Chorpenning failed, and Thompson never received a dime for his work.

            First and last, he did a vast deal of work for nothing. Some seasons our overland mail would not have reached California during the whole winter, had not Thompson turned out on his snow-shoes and carried the sack across the mountains. He took pride in the work. It challenged the spirit of adventure within him. It was like going forth to battle, and each successive trip was a victory. This being his feeling, he was all the more readily made to believe that in case he turned out and did the work, he would eventually be paid. As Mr. Thompson approached his fiftieth year, he began to think that in his old age he ought to receive something from the government in reward of the services he had performed. He asked but $6,000 for all he had done and endured during twenty years. His petition to Congress was signed by all the State and other officials at Carson City, and by every one else that was asked to sign it In the winter of 1874, he himself went to Washington to look after his claim, but all he got was promises. He never got anything but promises while on duty in the Sierras, and when he went to Washington he was still paid in the same coin.

            When Thompson went to Washington in 1874, he left Reno, Nevada, January 17th. Three days afterwards the train got stuck in a big snow-drift, thirty five miles this side of Laramie. There it stuck, in spite of the efforts of four locomotives to pull it through, preceded by a full day's shoveling by all the men that could be pressed into service. It was on Sunday that the four engines were tried and "found wanting." On Monday morning the wind was still blowing a gale, and the snow was still drifting badly. Becoming impatient, Thompson, with one fellow passenger -- Rufus Turner, of Idaho -- set out on foot and walked to Laramie, where they overtook a train that was also stuck fast in the snow, a short distance outside of the village.

            At Laramie, Turner came to the conclusion that he wanted no more pedestrian exercise, with the thermometer ranging at from fifteen to thirty degrees below zero. Thompson, however, was undaunted. He pushed on alone. He walked, in two days, fifty-six miles further, which carried him to Cheyenne, he having spent the intervening night at Buford Station, near the summit. At Cheyenne he found a train just starting out, and boarding it, went through to the Missouri River -- the first man directly from the Pacific coast for about two weeks.

1886.]  " Snow-Shoe Thompson" 433

            At the time, the newspapers in the East gave Thompson great credit for this achievement, declaring he was the first man who had ever beaten the " iron horse " on so long a stretch. This performance shows that he was still the same " Snow-shoe Thompson," when his foot was off " his native heath." The trip was made without snow-shoes – was made in ordinary boots.

            If not the swiftest, it was universally conceded that, even up to the time of his death, Thompson was the most expert snow-shoe runner in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. At Silver Mountain, Alpine County, California, in 1870, when he was forty-three years of age, he ran a distance of sixteen hundred feet in twenty-one seconds. There were many snow-shoers at that place, but in daring Thompson surpassed them all. Near the town was a big mountain, where the people of the place were wont to assemble on bright days in winter, to the number of two or three hundred. The ordinary snow-shoers would go part way up the mountain to where there was a bench, and then glide down a beaten path. This was too tame for Thompson. He would make a circuit of over a mile, and come out on the top of the mountain. When he appeared on the peak he would give one of his wild High-Sierra whoops, poise his balance-pole, and dart down the face of the mountain at lightning speed, leaping all the terraces from top to bottom, and gliding far out on the level before halting.

            Snow-shoe Thompson seldom performed any feat for the mere name and fame of doing a difficult and daring thing ; yet W. P. Merrill, postmaster at Woodford's, Alpine County, writes me as follows, in speaking of some of Thompson's achievements : " He at one time went back of Genoa, on a mountain, on his snow-shoes, and made a jump of one hundred and eighty feet without a break." This seems almost incredible, but Mr. Merrill is a reliable man, and for many years Thompson was his near neighbor, and a regular customer at his store. Thompson doubtless made this fearful leap at a place where he would land in a great drift of soft snow. I spoke of this feat to Mr. C. P. Gregory, formerly Thompson's neighbor in the mountains, but at present a resident of Virginia City, Nevada, and he answered that although he had never heard of that particular leap, he did not doubt what Mr. Merrill said. " I know," said Mr. Gregory, " that at Silver Mountain he often made clear jumps of fifty and sixty feet."

            What Thompson did, however, was generally in the way of business. His neighbors say that only a year or two before his death, while he was superintendent of the Pittsburg mine, at the head of I. X. L. Cañon, about twenty miles south of his ranch, he frequently took a quarter of beef on his back, and, mounted on his snow-shoes, made his way up the cañon to the mine, a distance of one mile and a half. The cañon is described as being " about straight up."

            The winter before his death, Thompson left Monitor for Silver Mountain at seven o'clock in the evening on his snow-shoes, with a lantern strapped upon his breast, it being pitch dark. Though the road was a most difficult and dangerous one, and a furious snow-storm was beating full in his face, he reached his destination, eight miles distant, a little before midnight.

            Snow-shoe Thompson carried across the Sierras much of the material on which the "Territorial Enterprise" was first printed, that paper being first published at Genoa, by W. L. Jernegan and Alfred James. It was then a weekly, and the first number was issued on Saturday, December 18, 1858. Thus it is seen that Thompson was called upon in all manner of emergencies. He not only packed newspapers across the mountains, but also the types on which newspapers were printed.

            Postmaster Merrill says : " A few years before his death, Thompson one winter made a trip from here [Woodford's] up into Sierra County on his snow-shoes, to run a race with the snow-shoers up there. But he would not run their way. They had a track beaten down the hill where they ran. They would then squat down on their shoes, and run down along the prepared course. Thomp-

434 " Snow-Shoe Thompson." [Oct.

son offered to put up money and go out upon the highest mountains, where there was no track made, and run and jump with them, but no one would take him up." The style of snow-shoe racing mentioned by Mr. Merrill is nothing more nor less than "coasting on show-shoes," and in Alpine County it is so called is not dignified with the name of snow-shoeing.

            At the time of his death Snow-shoe Thompson was a member of the Board of Commissioners of Alpine County. He was a man who appeared to be well educated, and wrote a bold and beautiful hand. He must have been mainly self-educated. When a lad in Norway, his only chance for the acquirement of book-knowledge was in the omgangs skoler, or ambulatory schools schools that shift from place to place at certain periods of the year, following the population in the thinly settled sections. They are so called in contradistinction to the fast skoler or stationary schools. As the people of Norway, in many places like those about the Alps, in Switzerland work their way up into the mountains in summer, with their flocks, and move down again at the approach of winter, the omgangs skoler afford the only educational facilities attainable. While moving to and fro in the Western States, his opportunities for attending school were probably not much better than they were in his native Norway.

            Mr. Thompson was ill but a few days, and was confined to his bed but a day or two before he died. His disease was some derangement of the liver. He was engaged in putting in his spring crop at his ranch when taken sick. Being too ill to carry a sack and sow his barley in the usual way, he mounted a horse and sowed it from a bucket, which he carried before him. Sowing grain on horse-back was probably never before seen or attempted. He was as anxious and determined about getting in his crops as are the people of his native, land, who sow their fields in March with ashes, soil, or sand, to hasten the melting of the snow.

            Thompson was forty-nine years and fifteen days old, when he died. He was buried at Genoa, and now rests by the side of his son Arthur, his only child and a most promising lad, who died June 22d, 1878, at the age of eleven years and four months.

            Thompson left his widow a farm of one hundred and sixty acres, in Diamond Valley, just across the Nevada line, in California. She married again, and is now Mrs. John Scossa. She recently caused a tombstone to be erected over the grave of her former husband. At the top of the stone are seen a pair of artistically carved snow-shoes, crossed, and twelve inches in height.

            John A. Thompson was the father of all the race of snow-shoers in the Sierra Nevada mountains ; and in those mountains he was the pioneer of the pack train, the stage coach, and the locomotive. On the Pacific Coast his equal in his peculiar line will probably never again be seen. The times and conditions are past and gone that called for men possessing the special qualifications that made him famous. It would be hard to find another man combining his courage, physique, and powers of endurance a man with such thews and sinews, controlled by such a will.

            As an explorer in Arctic regions he would have achieved world-wide fame. Less courage than he each winter displayed amid the mountains, has secured for hundreds the hero's crown. To ordinary men there is something terrible in the wild winter storms that often sweep through the Sierras ; but the louder the howlings of the gale rose, the higher rose the courage of Snow-shoe Thompson. He did not fear to beard the Storm King in his own mountain fastnesses and strongholds. Within his breast lived and burned the spirit of the old Vikings. It was this inherited spirit of his daring ancestors, that impelled him to embark in difficult and dangerous enterprises this spirit that incited him to defy even the wildest rage of the elements. In the turmoil of the most fearful tempests that ever beat against the granite walls of the High Sierras he was undismayed. In the midst of the midnight hurricane, he danced on the rocks as though himself one of the genii of the storm.

1886.] Recent Fiction. 435

            Yet for such a man as Thompson, there was no real recklessness in anything he did. He watched every mood of the elements, and guarded against every danger that threatened. It was his knowledge of all the phenomena of the mountains, his calmness, and the confidence he felt in his strength, that made him victorious in all his undertakings. So modest was he, withal, that what others accounted great feats, did not so appear to him. He looked upon the things he did as belonging to the business of every-day life.

            He did not boast when he said : " I cannot be lost," for his way was pointed out to him by every star in the heavens ; by every tree, rock, and hill was whispered by the breeze, and shouted by the gale. All else might be " lost," in the wild tumult of a winter storm, but, Snow-shoe Thompson stood unmoved amid the commotion ; there, as everywhere, at home.

            And he is still "at home," for he rests where the snowy peaks of his loved mountains look down upon his last camping-place; where the voices of the pines are borne to him by every breeze, and where the trembling ground often tells of the fall of the avalanche. A most fitting resting place for such a man !

                                                                                                            ----  Dan De Quille.