The federal government, as is usual in cases where the lives of valuable

voters are at stake, was forced to interfere. Troops were sent out to

aid the settlers in slaughtering the Indians. By means of mounted

howitzers, muskets, Minie rifles, dragoon pistols, and sabres, a good

many were cut to pieces. But, on the whole, the general policy of the

government was pacific. It was not designed to kill any more Indians

than might be necessary to secure the adhesion of the honest yeomanry of

the state, and thus furnish an example of the practical working of our

political system to the savages of the forest, by which it was hoped

they might profit. Congress took the matter in hand at an early day, and

appropriated large sums of money for the purchase of cattle and

agricultural implements. From the wording of the law, it would appear

that these useful articles were designed for the relief and maintenance

of the Indians. Commissioners were appointed at handsome salaries to

treat with them, and sub-agents employed to superintend the distribution

of the purchases. In virtue of this munificent policy, treaties were

made in which the various tribes were promised a great many valuable

presents, which of course they never got. There was no reason to suppose

they ever should; it being a fixed principle with strong powers never

to ratify treaties made by their own agents with weaker ones, when there

is money to pay and nothing to be had in return.

The cattle were purchased, however, to the number of many thousands.

Here arose another difficulty. The honest miners must have something to

eat, and what could they have more nourishing than fat cattle? Good beef

has been a favorite article of subsistence with men of bone and muscle

ever since the days of the ancient Romans. So the cattle, or the greater

part of them, were driven up to the mines, and sold at satisfactory

rates--probably for the benefit of the Indians, though I never could

understand in what way their necessities were relieved by this

speculation, unless it might be that the parties interested turned over

to them the funds received for the cattle. It is very certain they

continued to starve and commit depredations in the most ungrateful

manner for some time after; and, indeed, to such a pitch of audacity did

they carry their rebellious spirit against the constituted authorities,

that many of the chiefs protested if the white people would only let

them alone, and give them the least possible chance to make a living,

they would esteem it a much greater favor than any relief they had

experienced from the munificent donations of Congress.

But government was not to be defeated in its benevolent intentions.

Voluminous reports were made to Congress, showing that a general

reservation system, on the plan so successfully pursued by the Spanish

missionaries, would best accomplish the object. It was known that the

Missions of California had been built chiefly by Indian labor; that

during their existence the priests had fully demonstrated the capacity

of this race for the acquisition of civilized habits; that extensive

vineyards and large tracts of land had been cultivated solely by Indian

labor, under their instruction; and that by this humane system of

teaching many hostile tribes had been subdued, and enabled not only to

support themselves, but to render the Missions highly profitable

establishments.

No aid was given by government beyond the grants of land necessary for

missionary purposes; yet they soon grew wealthy, owned immense herds of

cattle, supplied agricultural products to the rancheros, and carried on

a considerable trade in hides and tallow with the United States. If the

Spanish priests could do this without arms or assistance, in the midst

of a savage country, at a period when the Indians were more numerous and

more powerful than they are now, surely it could be done in a

comparatively civilized country by intelligent Americans, with all the

lights of experience and the co-operation of a beneficent government.

At least Congress thought so; and in 1853 laws were passed for the

establishment of a reservation system in California, and large

appropriations were made to carry it into effect. Tracts of land of

twenty-five thousand acres were ordered to be set apart for the use of

the Indians; officers were appointed to supervise the affairs of the

service; clothing, cattle, seeds, and agricultural implements were

purchased; and a general invitation was extended to the various tribes

to come in and learn how to work like white men. The first reservation

was established at the Tejon, a beautiful and fertile valley in the

southern part of the state. Head-quarters for the employes, and large

granaries for the crops, were erected. The Indians were feasted on

cattle, and every thing promised favorably. True, it cost a great deal

to get started, about $250,000; but a considerable crop was raised, and

there was every reason to hope that the experiment would prove

successful. In the course of time other reservations were established,

one in the foot-hills of the Sacramento Valley, at a place called Nome

Lackee; one at the mouth of the Noyo River, south of Cape Mendocino; and

one on the Klamath, below Crescent City; besides which, there were

Indian farms, or adjuncts, of these reservations at the Fresno, Nome

Cult or Round Valley, the Mattole Valley, near Cape Mendocino, and

other points where it was deemed advisable to give aid and instruction

to the Indians. The cost of these establishments was such as to justify

the most sanguine anticipations of their success.

In order that the appropriations might be devoted to their legitimate

purpose, and the greatest possible amount of instruction furnished at

the least expense, the Executive Department adopted the policy of

selecting officers experienced in the art of public speaking, and

thoroughly acquainted with the prevailing systems of primary elections.

A similar policy had been found to operate beneficially in the case of

Collectors of Customs, and there was no reason why it should not in

other branches of the public service. Gentlemen skilled in the tactics

of state Legislatures, and capable of influencing those refractory

bodies by the exercise of moral suasion, could be relied upon to deal

with the Indians, who are not so far advanced in the arts of

civilization, and whose necessities, in a pecuniary point of view, are

not usually so urgent. Besides, it was known that the Digger tribes were

exceedingly ignorant of our political institutions, and required more

instruction, perhaps, in this branch of knowledge than in any other. The

most intelligent of the chiefs actually had no more idea of the

respective merits of the great candidates for senatorial honors in

California than if those distinguished gentlemen had never been born. As

to primary meetings and caucuses, the poor Diggers, in their simplicity,

were just as apt to mistake them for some favorite game of thimblerig or

pitch-penny as for the practical exercise of the great system of free

suffrage. They could not make out why men should drink so much whisky

and swear so hard unless they were gambling; and if any farther proof

was necessary, it was plain to see that the game was one of hazard,

because the players were constantly whispering to each other, and

passing money from hand to hand, and from pocket to pocket. The only

difference they could see between the different parties was that some

had more money than others, but they had no idea where it came from. To

enlighten them on all these points was, doubtless, the object of the

great appointing powers in selecting good political speakers to preside

over them. After building their houses, it was presumed that there would

be plenty of stumps left in the woods from which they could be taught to

make speeches on the great questions of the day, and where a gratifying

scene might be witnessed, at no remote period, of big and little Diggers

holding forth from every stump in support of the presiding

administration. For men who possessed an extraordinary capacity for

drinking ardent spirits; who could number among their select friends the

most notorious vagrants and gamblers in the state; who spent their days

in idleness and their nights in brawling grog-shops; whose habits, in

short, were in every way disreputable, the authorities in Washington

entertained a very profound antipathy. I know this to be the case,

because the most stringent regulations were established prohibiting

persons in the service from getting drunk, and official orders written

warning them that they would be promptly removed in case of any

misconduct. Circular letters were also issued, and posted up at the

different reservations, forbidding the employes to adopt the wives of

the Indians, which it was supposed they might attempt to do from too

zealous a disposition to cultivate friendly relations with both sexes.

In support of this policy, the California delegation made it a point

never to indorse any person for office in the service who was not

considered peculiarly deserving of patronage. They knew exactly the kind

of men that were wanted, because they lived in the state and had read

about the Indians in the newspapers. Some of them had even visited a few

of the wigwams. Having the public welfare at heart--a fact that can not

be doubted, since they repeatedly asserted it in their speeches--they

saw where the great difficulty lay, and did all in their power to aid

the executive. They indorsed the very best friends they had--gentlemen

who had contributed to their election, and fought for them through thick

and thin. The capacity of such persons for conducting the affairs of a

reservation could not be doubted. If they had cultivated an extensive

acquaintance among pot-house voters, of course they must understand the

cultivation of potatoes and onions; if they could control half a dozen

members of the Legislature in a senatorial contest, why not be able to

control Indians, who were not near so difficult to manage? if they could

swallow obnoxious measures of the administration, were they not

qualified to teach savages how to swallow government provisions? if they

were honest enough to avow, in the face of corrupt and hostile factions,

that they stood by the Constitution, and always meant to stand by the

same broad platform, were they not honest enough to disburse public

funds?

In one respect, I think the policy of the government was

unfortunate--that is, in the disfavor with which persons of intemperate

and disreputable habits were regarded. Men of this kind--and they are

not difficult to find in California--could do a great deal toward

meliorating the moral condition of the Indians by drinking up all the

whisky that might be smuggled on the reservations, and behaving so

disreputably in general that no Indian, however degraded in his

propensities, could fail to become ashamed of such low vices.

In accordance with the views of the Department, it was deemed to be

consistent with decency that these untutored savages should be clothed

in a more becoming costume than Nature had bestowed upon them. Most of

them were as ignorant of covering as they were of the Lecompton

Constitution. With the exception of a few who had worked for the

settlers, they made their first appearance on the reservations very much

as they appeared when they first saw daylight. It was a great object to

make them sensible of the advantages of civilization by covering their

backs while cultivating their brains. Blankets, shirts, and pantaloons,

therefore, were purchased for them in large quantities. It is presumed

that when the Department read the vouchers for these articles, and for

the potatoes, beans, and cattle that were so plentifully sprinkled

through the accounts, it imagined that it was "clothing the naked and

feeding the hungry!"

The blankets, to be sure, were very thin, and cost a great deal of money

in proportion to their value; but, then, peculiar advantages were to be

derived from the transparency of the fabric. In some respects the worst

material might be considered the most economical. By holding his blanket

to the light, an Indian could enjoy the contemplation of both sides of

it at the same time; and it would only require a little instruction in

architecture to enable him to use it occasionally as a window to his

wigwam. Every blanket being marked by a number of blotches, he could

carry his window on his back whenever he went out on a foraging

expedition, so as to know the number of his residence when he returned,

as the citizens of Schilda carried their doors when they went away from

home, in order that they should not forget where they lived. Nor was it

the least important consideration, that when he gambled it away, or sold

it for whisky, he would not be subject to any inconvenience from a

change of temperature. The shirts and pantaloons were in general equally

transparent, and possessed this additional advantage, that they very

soon cracked open in the seams, and thereby enabled the squaws to learn

how to sew.

As many of the poor wretches were afflicted with diseases incident to

their mode of life, and likely to contract others from the white

employes of the reservations, physicians were appointed to give them

medicine. Of course Indians required a peculiar mode of treatment. They

spoke a barbarous jargon, and it was not possible that any thing but

barbarous compounds could operate on their bowels. Of what use would it

be to waste good medicines on stomachs that were incapable of

comprehending their use? Accordingly, any deficiency in the quality was

made up by the quantity and variety. Old drug stores were cleared of

their rubbish, and vast quantities of croton oil, saltpetre, alum,

paint, scent-bottles, mustard, vinegar, and other valuable laxatives,

diaphoretics, and condiments were supplied for their use. The result

was, that, aided by the peculiar system of diet adopted, the physicians

were enabled very soon to show a considerable roll of patients. In cases

where the blood was ascertained to be scorbutic, the patients were

allowed to go out in the valleys, and subsist for a few months on clover

or grass, which was regarded as a sovereign remedy. I was assured at one

reservation that fresh spring grass had a more beneficial effect on them

than the medicines, as it generally purged them. The Department was

fully advised of these facts in elaborate reports made by its special

emissaries, and congratulated itself upon the satisfactory progress of

the system. The elections were going all right--the country was safe.

Feeding Indians on grass was advancing them at least one step toward a

knowledge of the sacred Scriptures. It was following the time-honored

precedent of Nebuchadnezzar, the King of Babylon, who was driven from

men, and did eat grass as oxen, and was wet with the dews of heaven till

his hairs were grown like eagles' feathers, and his nails like birds'

claws. An ounce of croton oil would go a great way in lubricating the

intestines of an entire tribe of Indians; and if the paint could not be

strictly classed with any of the medicines known in the official

dispensary, it might at least be used for purposes of clothing during

the summer months. Red or green pantaloons painted on the legs of the

Indians, and striped blue shirts artistically marked out on their

bodies, would be at once cool, economical, and picturesque. If these

things cost a great deal of money, as appeared by the vouchers, it was a

consolation to know that, money being the root of all evil, no

injurious effects could grow out of such a root after it had been once

thoroughly eradicated.

The Indians were also taught the advantages to be derived from the

cultivation of the earth. Large supplies of potatoes were purchased in

San Francisco, at about double what they were worth in the vicinity of

the reservations. There were only twenty-five thousand acres of public

land available at each place for the growth of potatoes or any other

esculent for which the hungry natives might have a preference; but it

was much easier to purchase potatoes than to make farmers out of the

white men employed to teach them how to cultivate the earth. Sixteen or

seventeen men on each reservation had about as much as they could do to

attend to their own private claims, and keep the natives from eating

their private crops. It was not the policy of government to reward its

friends for their "adhesion to the Constitution" by requiring them to

perform any practical labor at seventy-five or a hundred dollars a

month, which was scarcely double the current wages of the day. Good men

could obtain employment any where by working for their wages; but it

required the best kind of administration men to earn extraordinary

compensations by an extraordinary amount of idleness. Not that they were

all absolutely worthless. On the contrary, some spent their time in

hunting, others in riding about the country, and a considerable number

in laying out and supervising private claims, aided by Indian labor and

government provisions.

The official reports transmitted to Congress from time to time gave

flattering accounts of the progress of the system. The extent and

variety of the crops were fabulously grand. Immense numbers of Indians

were fed and clothed--on paper. Like little children who cry for

medicines, it would appear that the whole red race were so charmed with

the new schools of industry that they were weeping to be removed there

and set to work. Indeed, many of them had already learned to work "like

white men;" they were bending to it cheerfully, and could handle the

plow and the sickle very skillfully, casting away their bows and arrows,

and adopting the more effective instruments of agriculture. No mention

was made of the fact that these working Indians had acquired their

knowledge from the settlers, and that, if they worked after the fashion

of the white men on the reservations, it was rarely any of them were

obliged to go to the hospital in consequence of injuries resulting to

the spinal column. The favorite prediction of the officers in charge

was, that in a very short time these institutions would be

self-sustaining--that is to say, that neither they nor the Indians would

want any more money after a while.

It may seem strange that the appropriations demanded of Congress did not

decrease in a ratio commensurate with these flattering reports. The

self-sustaining period had not yet come. On the contrary, as the Indians

were advancing into the higher branches of education--music, dancing,

and the fine arts, moral philosophy and ethics, political economy,

etc.--it required more money to teach them. The number had been

considerably diminished by death and desertion; but then their appetites

had improved, and they were getting a great deal smarter. Besides,

politics were becoming sadly entangled in the state, and many agents had

to be employed in the principal cities to protect the women and children

from any sudden invasion of the natives while the patriotic male

citizens were at the polls depositing their votes.

The Department, no doubt, esteemed all this to be a close approximation

to the Spanish Mission system, and in some respects it was. The priests

sought the conversion of heathens, who believed neither in the Divinity

nor the Holy Ghost; the Department the conversion of infidels, who had

no faith in the measures of the administration. If there was any

material difference, it was in the Head of the Church, and the

missionaries appointed to carry its views into effect.

But the most extraordinary feature in the history of this service in

California was the interpretation given by the federal authorities in

Washington to the Independent Treasury Act of 1846. That stringent

provision, prohibiting any public officer from using for private

purposes, loaning, or depositing in any bank or banking institution any

public funds committed to his charge; transmitting for settlement any

voucher for a greater amount than that actually paid; or appropriating

such funds to any other purpose than that prescribed by law, was so

amended in the construction of the Department as to mean, "except in

cases where such officer has rendered peculiar services to the party and

possesses strong influences in Congress." When any infraction of the law

was reported, it was subjected to the test of this amended reading; and

if the conditions were found satisfactory, the matter was disposed of in

a pigeon-hole. An adroit system of accountability was established, by

which no property return, abstract of issues, account current, or

voucher, was understood to mean what it expressed upon its face, so that

no accounting officer possessing a clew to the policy adopted could be

deceived by the figures. Thus it was perfectly well understood that five

hundred or a thousand head of cattle did not necessarily mean real

cattle with horns, legs, and tails, actually born in the usual course of

nature, purchased for money, and delivered on the reservations, but

prospective cattle, that might come into existence and be wanted at some

future period. For all the good the Indians got of them, it might as

well be five hundred or a thousand head of voters, for they no more fed

upon beef, as a general thing, than they did upon human flesh.

Neither was it beyond the capacity of the Department to comprehend that

traveling expenses on special Indian service might just as well mean a

trip to the Convention at Sacramento; that guides and assistants were a

very indefinite class of gentlemen of a roving turn of mind; that

expenses incurred in visiting wild tribes and settling difficulties

among them did not necessarily involve the exclusion of difficulties

among the party factions in the Legislature. In short, the original

purpose of language was so perverted in the official correspondence that

it had no more to do with the expression of facts than many of the

employes had to do with the Indians. The reports and regulations of the

Department actually bordered on the poetical. It was enough to bring

tears into the eyes of any feeling man to read the affecting

dissertations that were transmitted to Congress on the woes of the Red

men, and the labors of the public functionaries to meliorate their

unhappy condition. Faith, hope, and charity abounded in them. "See what

we are doing for these poor children of the forest!" was the burden of

the song, in a strain worthy the most pathetic flights of Mr. Pecksniff;

"see how faithful we are to our trusts, and how judiciously we expend

the appropriations! Yet they die off in spite of us--wither away as the

leaves of the trees in autumn! Let us hope, nevertheless, that the

beneficent intentions of Congress may yet be realized. We are the

guardians of these unfortunate and defenseless beings; they are our

wards; it is our duty to take care of them; we can afford to be liberal,

and spend a little more money on them. Through the judicious efforts of

our public functionaries, and the moral influences spread around them,

there is reason to believe they will yet embrace civilization and

Christianity, and become useful members of society." In accordance with

these views, the regulations issued by the Department were of the most

stringent character--encouraging economy, industry, and fidelity;

holding all agents and employes to a strict accountability; with here

and there some instructive maxim of morality--all of which, upon being

translated, meant that politicians are very smart fellows, and it was

not possible for them to humbug one another. "Do your duty to the

Indians as far as you can conveniently, and without too great a

sacrifice of money; but stand by our friends, and save the party by all

means and at all hazards. _Verbum sap!_" was the practical construction.

When public clamor called attention to these supposed abuses, and it

became necessary to make some effective demonstration of honesty, a

special agent was directed to examine into the affairs of the service

and report the result. It was particularly enjoined upon him to

investigate every complaint affecting the integrity of public officers,

collect and transmit the proofs of malfeasance, with his own views in

the premises, so that every abuse might be uprooted and cast out of the

service. Decency in official conduct must be respected and the public

eye regarded! Peremptory measures would be taken to suppress all frauds

upon the Treasury. It was the sincere desire of the administration to

preserve purity and integrity in the public service.

From mail to mail, during a period of three years, the agent made his

reports; piling up proof upon proof, and covering acres of valuable

paper with protests and remonstrances against the policy pursued;

racking his brains to do his duty faithfully; subjecting himself to

newspaper abuse for neglecting it, because no beneficial result was

perceptible, and making enemies as a matter of course. Reader, if ever

you aspire to official honors, let the fate of that unfortunate agent be

a warning to you. He did exactly what he was instructed to do, which was

exactly what he was not wanted to do. In order to save time and expense,

as well as farther loss of money in the various branches of public

service upon which he had reported, other agents were sent out to

ascertain if he had told the truth; and when they were forced to admit

that he had, there was a good deal of trouble in the wigwam of the great

chief. Not only did poor Yorick incur the hostility of powerful

senatorial influences, but by persevering in his error, and insisting

that he had told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,

he eventually lost the respect and confidence of the "powers that be,"

together with his official head. I knew him well. He was a fellow of

infinite jest. There was something so exquisitely comic in the idea of

taking official instructions literally, and carrying them into effect,

that he could not resist it. The humor of the thing kept him in a

constant chuckle of internal satisfaction; but it was the most serious

jest he ever perpetrated, for it cost him, besides the trouble of

carrying it out, the loss of a very comfortable per diem.

The results of the policy pursued were precisely such as might have been

expected. A very large amount of money was annually expended in feeding

white men and starving Indians. Such of the latter as were physically

able took advantage of the tickets-of-leave granted them so freely, and

left. Very few ever remained at these benevolent institutions when there

was a possibility of getting any thing to eat in the woods. Every year

numbers of them perished from neglect and disease, and some from

absolute starvation. When it was represented in the official reports

that two or three thousand enjoyed the benefit of aid from government

within the limits of each district--conveying the idea that they were

fed and clothed at public expense--it must have meant that the Territory

of California originally cost the United States fifteen millions of

dollars, and that the nuts and berries upon which the Indians subsisted,

and the fig-leaves in which they were supposed to be clothed, were

embraced within the cessions made by Mexico. At all events, it

invariably happened, when a visitor appeared on the reservations, that

the Indians were "out in the mountains gathering nuts and berries." This

was the case in spring, summer, autumn, and winter. They certainly

possessed a remarkable predilection for staying out a long time. Very

few of them, indeed, have yet come back. The only difference between the

existing state of things and that which existed prior to the

inauguration of the system is, that there were then some thousands of

Indians living within the limits of the districts set apart for

reservation purposes, whereas there are now only some hundreds. In the

brief period of six years they have been very nearly destroyed by the

generosity of government. What neglect, starvation, and disease have not

done, has been achieved by the co-operation of the white settlers in the

great work of extermination.

[Illustration: OUT IN THE MOUNTAINS.]

No pretext has been wanted, no opportunity lost, whenever it has been

deemed necessary to get them out of the way. At Nome Cult Valley, during

the winter of 1858-'59, more than a hundred and fifty peaceable Indians,

including women and children, were cruelly slaughtered by the whites who

had settled there under official authority, and most of whom derived

their support either from actual or indirect connection with the

reservation. Many of them had been in public employ, and now enjoyed the

rewards of their meritorious services. True, a notice was posted up on

the trees that the valley was public land reserved for Indian purposes,

and not open to settlement; but nobody, either in or out of the service,

paid any attention to that, as a matter of course. When the Indians were

informed that it was their home, and were invited there on the pretext

that they would be protected, it was very well understood that, as soon

as government had spent money enough there to build up a settlement

sufficiently strong to maintain itself, they would enjoy very slender

chances of protection. It was alleged that they had driven off and eaten

private cattle. There were some three or four hundred head of public

cattle on the property returns, all supposed to be ranging in the same

vicinity; but the private cattle must have been a great deal better,

owing to some superior capacity for eating grass. Upon an investigation

of this charge, made by the officers of the army, it was found to be

entirely destitute of truth: a few cattle had been lost, or probably

killed by white men, and this was the whole basis of the massacre. Armed

parties went into the rancherias in open day, when no evil was

apprehended, and shot the Indians down--weak, harmless, and defenseless

as they were--without distinction of age or sex; shot down women with

sucking babes at their breasts; killed or crippled the naked children

that were running about; and, after they had achieved this brave

exploit, appealed to the state government for aid! Oh, Shame, Shame,

where is thy blush, that white men should do this with impunity in a

civilized country, under the very eyes of an enlightened government!

They did it, and they did more! For days, weeks, and months they ranged

the hills of Nome Cult, killing every Indian that was too weak to

escape; and, what is worse, they did it under a state commission, which

in all charity I must believe was issued upon false representations. A

more cruel series of outrages than those perpetrated upon the poor

Indians of Nome Cult never disgraced a community of white men. The state

said the settlers must be protected, and it protected them--protected

them from women and children, for the men are too imbecile and too

abject to fight. The general government folded its arms and said, "What

can we do? We can not chastise the citizens of a state. Are we not

feeding and clothing the savages, and teaching them to be moral, and is

not that as much as the civilized world can ask of us?"

At King's River, where there was a public farm maintained at

considerable expense, the Indians were collected in a body of two or

three hundred, and the white settlers, who complained that government

would not do any thing for them, drove them over to the Agency at the

Fresno. After an expenditure of some thirty thousand dollars a year for

six years, that farm had scarcely produced six blades of grass, and was

entirely unable to support over a few dozen Indians who had always lived

there, and who generally foraged for their own subsistence. The

new-comers, therefore, stood a poor chance till the agent purchased from

the white settlers, on public account, the acorns which they (the

Indians) had gathered and laid up for winter use at King's River.

Notwithstanding the acorns, they were very soon starved out at the

Fresno, and wandered away to find a subsistance wherever they could.

Many of them perished of hunger on the plains of the San Joaquin. The

rest are presumed to be in the mountains gathering berries.

At the Mattole Station, near Cape Mendocino, a number of Indians were

murdered on the public farm within a few hundred yards of the

head-quarters. The settlers in the valley alleged that government would

not support them, or take any care of them; and as settlers were not

paid for doing it, they must kill them to get rid of them.

At Humboldt Bay, and in the vicinity, a series of Indian massacres by

white men continued for over two years. The citizens held public

meetings, and protested against the action of the general government in

leaving these Indians to prowl upon them for a support. It was alleged

that the reservations cost two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a

year, and yet nothing was done to relieve the people of this burden.

Petitions were finally sent to the state authorities asking for the

removal of the Indians from that vicinity; and the state sent out its

militia, killed a good many, and captured a good many others, who were

finally carried down to the Mendocino reservation. They liked that place

so well that they left it very soon, and went back to their old places

of resort, preferring a chance of life to the certainty of starvation.

During the winter of last year a number of them were gathered at

Humboldt. The whites thought it was a favorable opportunity to get rid

of them altogether. So they went in a body to the Indian camp, during

the night when the poor wretches were asleep, shot all the men, women,

and children they could at the first onslaught, and cut the throats of

the remainder. Very few escaped. Next morning sixty bodies lay weltering

in their blood--the old and the young, male and female--with every wound

gaping a tale of horror to the civilized world. Children climbed upon

their mothers' breasts, and sought nourishment from the fountains that

death had drained; girls and boys lay here and there with their throats

cut from ear to ear; men and women, clinging to each other in their

terror, were found perforated with bullets or cut to pieces with

knives--all were cruelly murdered! Let any one who doubts this read the

newspapers of San Francisco of that date. It will be found there in its

most bloody and tragic details. Let them read of the Pitt River

massacre, and of all the massacres that for the past three years have

darkened the records of the state.

[Illustration: PROTECTING THE SETTLERS.]

I will do the white people who were engaged in these massacres the

justice to say that they were not so much to blame as the general

government. They had at least given due warning of their intention. For

years they had burdened the mails with complaints of the inefficiency of

the agents; they had protested in the newspapers, in public meetings, in

every conceivable way, and on every possible occasion, against the

impolicy of permitting these Indians to roam about the settlements,

picking up a subsistence in whatever way they could, when there was a

fund of $250,000 a year appropriated by Congress for their removal to

and support on the reservations. What were these establishments for? Why

did they not take charge of the Indians? Where were the agents? What was

done with the money? It was repeatedly represented that, unless

something was done, the Indians would soon all be killed. They could no

longer make a subsistence in their old haunts. The progress of

settlement had driven them from place to place till there was no longer

a spot on earth they could call their own. Their next move could only be

into the Pacific Ocean. If ever an unfortunate people needed a few acres

of ground to stand upon, and the poor privilege of making a living for

themselves, it was these hapless Diggers. As often as they tried the

reservations, sad experience taught them that these were institutions

for the benefit of white men, not Indians. It was wonderful how the

employes had prospered on their salaries. They owned fine ranches in the

vicinity; in fact, the reservations themselves were pretty much covered

with the claims of persons in the service, who thought they would make

nice farms for white men. The principal work done was to attend to sheep

and cattle speculations, and make shepherds out of the few Indians that

were left.

What did it signify that thirty thousand dollars a year had been

expended at the Tejon? thirty thousand at the Fresno? fifty thousand at

Nome Lackee? ten thousand at Nome Cult? forty-eight thousand at

Mendocino? sixteen thousand at the Klamath? and some fifty or sixty

thousand for miscellaneous purposes? that all this had resulted in the

reduction of a hundred thousand Indians to about thirty thousand?

Meritorious services had been rewarded, and a premium in favor of public

integrity issued to an admiring world.

I am satisfied, from an acquaintance of eleven years with the Indians of

California, that, had the least care been taken of them, these

disgraceful massacres would never have occurred. A more inoffensive and

harmless race of beings does not exist on the face of the earth; but,

wherever they attempted to procure a subsistence, they were hunted down;

driven from the reservations by the instinct of self-preservation; shot

down by the settlers upon the most frivolous pretexts; and abandoned to

their fate by the only power that could have afforded them protection.

This was the result, in plain terms, of the inefficient and

discreditable manner in which public affairs were administered by the

federal authorities in Washington. It was the natural consequence of a

corrupt political system, which, for the credit of humanity, it is to be

hoped will be abandoned in future so far as the Indians are concerned.

They have no voice in public affairs. So long as they are permitted to

exist, party discipline is a matter of very little moment to them. All

they ask is the privilege of breathing the air that God gave to us all,

and living in peace wherever it may be convenient to remove them. Their

history in California is a melancholy record of neglect and cruelty; and

the part taken by public men high in position, in wresting from them

the very means of subsistence, is one of which any other than

professional politicians would be ashamed. For the Executive Department

there is no excuse. There lay the power and the remedy; but a paltry and

servile spirit, an abject submission to every shifting influence, an

utter absence of that high moral tone which is the characteristic trait

of genuine statesmen and patriots, have been the distinguishing features

of this branch of our government for some time past. Disgusted with

their own handiwork; involved in debt throughout the state, after

wasting all the money appropriated by Congress; the accounts in an

inextricable state of confusion; the creditors of the government

clamoring to be paid; the "honest yeomanry" turning against the party in

power; political affairs entangled beyond remedy; it was admitted to be

a very bad business--not at all such as to meet the approval of the

administration. The appropriation was cut down to fifty thousand

dollars. That would do damage enough. Two hundred and fifty thousand a

year, for six or seven years, had inflicted sufficient injury upon the

poor Indians. Now it was time to let them alone on fifty thousand, or

turn them over to the state. So the end of it is, that the reservations

are practically abandoned; the remainder of the Indians are being

exterminated every day; and the Spanish Mission System has signally

failed.

A PEEP AT WASHOE.

CHAPTER I.

When I inform the reader that I have scarcely dipped pen in ink for six

years save to unravel the mysteries of a Treasury voucher; that I have

lived chiefly among Indians, disbursing agents, and officers of the

customs; that I now sit writing in the attic of a German villa more than

eight thousand miles from the scene of my adventures, without note or

memorandum of any kind to refresh my memory, he will be prepared to make

reasonable allowance for such a loose, rambling, and disjointed

narrative as an ex-inspector general can be expected to write under such

adverse circumstances. If there be inconveniences in being hanged, as

the gentle Elia has attempted to prove, so likewise are there

inconveniences in being decapitated; for surely a man deprived of the

casket which nature has given him as a receptacle for his brains is no

better off than one with a broken neck. But it is not my present purpose

to enter into an analysis of this portion of my experience; nor do I

make these references to official life by way of excuse for any

rustiness of intellect that may be perceptible in my narrative, but

rather in mitigation of those unconscious violations of truth and

marvelous flights of fancy which may naturally result from long

experience in government affairs.

Ever since 1849, when I first trod the shores of California, the

citizens of that Land of Promise have been subject to periodical

excitements, the extent and variety of which can find no parallel in any

other state of the Union. To enumerate these in chronological detail

would be a difficult task, nor is it necessary to my purpose. The

destruction of towns by flood and fire; the uprisings and downfallings

of vigilance committees; the breaking of banking-houses and pecuniary

ruin of thousands; the political wars, senatorial tournaments, duels,

and personal affrays; the prison and bulkhead schemes; the extraordinary

ovations to the living and the dead, and innumerable other excitements,

have been too frequently detailed, and have elicited too much comment

from the Atlantic press not to be still in the memory of the public.

But, numerous as these agitations have been, and prejudicial as some of

them must long continue to be to the reputation of the state, they can

bear no comparison in point of extent and general interest to the mining

excitements which from time to time have convulsed the whole Pacific

coast, from Puget's Sound to San Diego. In these there can be no

occasion for party animosity; they are confined to no political or

sectional clique; all the industrial classes are interested, and in a

manner, too, affecting, either directly or incidentally, their very

means of subsistence. The country abounds in mineral wealth, and the

merchant, the banker, the shipper, the mechanic, the laborer, are all,

to some extent, dependent upon its development. Even the gentleman of

elegant leisure, vulgarly known as the "Bummer"--and there are many in

California--is occasionally driven by visions of cocktail and

cigar-money to doff his "stove-pipe," and exchange his gold-mounted cane

for a pick or a shovel. The axiom has been well established by an

eminent English writer that "every man wants a thousand pounds." It

seems, indeed, to be a chronic and constitutional want, as well in

California as in less favored countries.

[Illustration: THE BUMMER.]

Few of the early residents of the state can have forgotten the Gold

Bluff excitement of '52, when, by all accounts, old Ocean himself turned

miner, and washed up cartloads of gold on the beach above Trinidad. It

was represented, and generally believed, that any enterprising man

could take his hat and a wheelbarrow, and in half an hour gather up gold

enough to last him for life. I have reason to suspect that, of the

thousands who went there, many will long remember their experience with

emotions, if pleasant, "yet mournful to the soul."

[Illustration: GOING TO KERN RIVER.]

The Kern River excitement threatened for a time to depopulate the

northern portion of the state. The stages from Marysville and

Sacramento were crowded day after day, and new lines were established

from Los Angeles, Stockton, San Jose, and various other points; but such

was the pressure of travel in search of this grand depository, in which

it was represented the main wealth of the world had been treasured by a

beneficent Providence, that thousands were compelled to go on foot, and

carry their blankets and provisions on their backs. From Stockton to the

mining district, a distance of more than three hundred miles, the plains

of the San Joaquin were literally speckled with "honest miners." It is a

notable fact, that of those who went in stages, the majority returned on

foot; and of those who trusted originally to shoe-leather, many had to

walk back on their natural soles, or depend on sackcloth or charity.

[Illustration: RETURNING FROM THE KERN RIVER.]

After the Kern River Exchequer had been exhausted, the public were

congratulated by the press throughout the state upon the effectual check

now put upon these ruinous and extravagant excitements. The enterprising

miners who had been tempted to abandon good claims in search of better

had undergone a species of purging which would allay any irritation of

the mucous membrane for some time. What they had lost in money they had

gained in experience. They would henceforth turn a deaf ear to

interested representations, and not be dazzled by visions of sudden

wealth conjured up by monte-dealers, travelers, and horse-jockeys. They

were, on the whole, wiser if not happier men. Nor would the lesson be

lost to the merchants and capitalists who had scattered their goods and

their funds over the picturesque heights of the Sierra Nevada. And even

the gentlemen of elegant leisure, who had gone off so suddenly in search

of small change for liquors and cigars, could now recuperate their

exhausted energies at the free lunch establishments of San Francisco,

or, if too far gone in seed for that, they could regenerate their

muscular system by some wholesome exercise in the old diggings, where

there was not so much gold perhaps as at Kern River, but where it could

be got at more easily.

[Illustration: HO! FOR FRAZER RIVER.]

Scarcely had the reverberation caused by the bursting of the Kern River

bubble died away, and fortune again smiled upon the ruined multitudes,

when a faint cry was heard from afar--first low and uncertain, like a

mysterious whisper, then full and sonorous, like the boom of glad

tidings from the mouth of a cannon, the inspiring cry of FRAZER RIVER!

Here was gold sure enough! a river of gold! a country that dazzled the

eyes with its glitter of gold! There was no deception about it this

time. New Caledonia was the land of Ophir. True, it was in the British

possessions, but what of that? The people of California would develop

the British possessions.

Had our claim to 54 deg. 40' been insisted upon, this immense treasure would

now have been within our own boundaries; but no matter--it was ours by

right of proximity. The problem of Solomon's Temple was now solved.

Travelers, from Marco Polo down to the present era, who had attempted to

find the true land of Ophir, had signally failed; but here it was, the

exact locality, beyond peradventure. For where else in the world could

the river-beds, creeks, and canyons be lined with gold? Where else could

the honest miner "pan out" $100 per day every day in the year? But if

any who had been rendered incredulous by former excitements still

doubted, they could no longer discredit the statements that were brought

down by every steamer, accompanied by positive and palpable specimens of

the ore, and by the assurances of captains, pursers, mates, cooks, and

waiters, that Frazer River was the country. To be sure, it was afterward

hinted that the best part of the gold brought down from Frazer had made

the round voyage from San Francisco; but I consider this a gross and

unwarranted imputation upon the integrity of steam-boat owners,

captains, and speculators. Did not the famous Commodore Wright take the

matter in hand; put his best steamers on the route; hoist his banners

and placards in every direction, and give every man a chance of testing

the question in person? This was establishing the existence of immense

mineral wealth in that region upon a firm and practical basis. No man of

judgment and experience, like the commodore, would undertake to run his

steamers on "the baseless fabric of a vision." The cheapness and variety

of his rates afforded every man an opportunity of making a fortune. For

thirty, twenty, and even fifteen dollars, the ambitious aspirant for

Frazer could be landed at Victoria.

I will not now undertake to give a detail of that memorable excitement;

how the stages, north, south, east, and, I had almost said, west, were

crowded day and night with scores upon scores of sturdy adventurers;

how farms were abandoned and crops lost for want of hands to work them;

how rich claims in the old diggings were given away for a song; how the

wharves of San Francisco groaned under the pressure of the human freight

delivered upon them on every arrival of the Sacramento and Stockton

boats; how it was often impracticable to get through the streets in that

vicinity owing to the crowds gathered around the "runners," who cried

aloud the merits and demerits of the rival steamers; and, strangest of

all, how the head and front of the Frazerites were the very men who had

enjoyed such pleasant experience at Gold Bluff, Kern River, and other

places famous in the history of California. No sensible man could doubt

the richness of Frazer River when these veterans became leaders, and

called upon the masses to follow. They were not a class of men likely to

be deceived--they knew the signs of the times. And, in addition to all

this, who could resist the judgment and experience of Commodore Wright,

a man who had made an independent fortune in the steam-boat business?

Who could be deaf when assayers, bankers, jobbers, and speculators cried

aloud that it was all true?

Well, I am not going to moralize. Mr. Nugent was appointed a

commissioner, on the part of the United States, to settle the various

difficulties which had grown up between the miners and Governor

Douglass. He arrived at Victoria in time to perform signal service to

his fellow-citizens; that is to say, he found many of them in a state of

starvation, and sent them back to California at public expense. Frazer

River, always too high for mining purposes, could not be prevailed upon

to subside. Its banks were not banks of issue, nor were its beds stuffed

with the feathers of the Golden Goose. Had it not been for this turn of

affairs, it is difficult to say what would have been the result. The

British Lion had been slumbering undisturbed at Victoria for half a

century, and was very much astonished, upon waking up, to find thirty

thousand semi-barbarous Californians scattered broadcast over the

British possessions. Governor Douglass issued manifestoes in vain. He

evidently thought it no joke. The subject eventually became a matter of

diplomatic correspondence, in which much ink was shed, but fortunately

no blood, although the subsequent seizure of San Juan by General Harney

came very near producing that result.

[Illustration: RETURNED FROM FRAZER RIVER.]

The steamers, in due course of time, began to return crowded with

enterprising miners, who still believed there was gold there if the

river would only fall. But generosity dictates that I should say no more

on this point. It is enough to add, that the time arrived when it

became a matter of personal offense to ask any spirited gentleman if he

had been to Frazer River.

There was now, of course, an end to all mining excitements. It could

never again happen that such an imposition could be practiced upon

public credulity. In the whole state there was not another sheep that

could be gulled by the cry of wolf. Business would now resume its steady

and legitimate course. Property would cease to fluctuate in value. Every

branch of industry would become fixed upon a permanent and reliable

basis. All these excitements were the natural results of the daring and

enterprising character of the people. But now, having worked off their

superabundant steam, they would be prepared to go ahead systematically,

and develop those resources which they had hitherto neglected. It was a

course of medical effervescence highly beneficial to the body politic.

All morbid appetite for sudden wealth was now gone forever.

But softly, good friends! What rumor is this? Whence come these silvery

strains that are wafted to our ears from the passes of the Sierra

Nevada? What dulcet AEolian harmonies--what divine, enchanting ravishment

is it

"That with these raptures moves the vocal air?"

As I live, it is a cry of Silver! Silver in WASHOE! Not gold now, you

silly men of Gold Bluff; you Kern Riverites; you daring explorers of

British Columbia! But SILVER--solid, pure SILVER! Beds of it ten

thousand feet deep! Acres of it! miles of it! hundreds of millions of

dollars poking their backs up out of the earth ready to be pocketed!

Do you speak of the mines of Potosi or Golconda? Do you dare to quote

the learned Baron Von Tschudi on South America and Mexico? Do you refer

me to the ransom of Atahualpa, the unfortunate Inca, in the days of

Pizarro? Nothing at all, I assure you, to the silver mines of Washoe!

"Sir," said my informant to me, in strict confidence, no later than

this morning, "you may rely upon it, for I am personally acquainted with

a brother of the gentleman whose most intimate friend saw the man whose

partner has just come over the mountains, and he says there never was

the like on the face of the earth! The ledges are ten thousand feet

deep--solid masses of silver. Let us be off! Now is the time! A

pack-mule, pick and shovel, hammer and frying-pan will do. You need

nothing more. HURRAH FOR WASHOE!"

Kind and sympathizing reader, imagine a man who for six years had

faithfully served his government and his country; who had never, if he

knew himself intimately, embezzled a dollar of the public funds; who had

resisted the seductive influences of Gold Bluff, Kern, and Frazer Rivers

from the purest motives of patriotism; who scorned to abandon his post

in search of filthy lucre--imagine such a personage cut short in his

official career, and suddenly bereft of his per diem by a formal and

sarcastic note of three lines from head-quarters; then fancy you hear

him jingle the last of his federal emoluments in his pocket, and sigh at

the ingratitude of republics. Would you not consider him open to any

proposition short of murder or highway robbery? Would you be surprised

if he accepted an invitation from Mr. Wise, the aeronaut, to take a

voyage in a balloon? or the berth of assistant manager in a diving-bell?

or joined the first expedition in search of the treasure buried by the

Spanish galleon on her voyage to Acapulco in 1578? Then consider his

position, as he stands musing upon the mutability of human affairs, when

those strange and inspiring cries of Washoe fall upon his ears for the

first time, with a realizing sense of their import. Borne on the wings

of the wind from the Sierra Nevada; wafted through every street, lane,

and alley of San Francisco; whirling around the drinking saloons,

eddying over the counters of the banking offices, scattering up the dust

among the Front Street merchants, arousing the slumbering inmates of

the Custom-house--what man of enterprise could resist it? Washoe! The

Comstock lead! The Ophir! The Central--The Billy Choller Companies, and

a thousand others, indicating in trumpet-tones the high road to fortune!

From the crack of day to the shades of night nothing is heard but

Washoe. The steady men of San Francisco are aroused, the men of Front

Street, the gunny-bag men, the brokers, the gamblers, the butchers, the

bakers, the whisky-dealers, the lawyers, and all. The exception was to

find a sane man in the entire city.

[Illustration: HURRAH FOR WASHOE.]

No wonder the abstracted personage already referred to was aroused from

his gloomy reflections. A friend appealed to him to go to Washoe. The

friend was interested there, but could not go himself. It was a matter

of incalculable importance. Millions were involved in it. He (the

friend) would pay expenses. The business would not occupy a week, and

would not interfere with any other business.

CHAPTER II.

START FOR WASHOE.

Next day an advertisement appeared in the city papers respectfully

inviting the public to commit their claims and investments to the hands

of their fellow-citizen, Mr. Yusef Badra, whose long experience in

government affairs eminently qualified him to undertake the task of

geological research. He was especially prepared to determine the exact

amount of silver contained in fossils. It would afford him pleasure to

be of service to his friends and fellow-citizens. The public would be so

kind as to address Mr. Badra, at Carson City, Territory of Utah.

This looked like business on an extensive scale. It read like business

of a scientific character. It was a card drawn up with skill, and

calculated to attract attention. I am proud to acknowledge that I am the

author, and, furthermore (if you will consider the information

confidential), that I am the identical agent referred to.

[Illustration: THE AGENCY.]

Many good friends shook their heads when I announced my intention of

visiting Washoe, and, although they designed going themselves as soon as

the snow was melted from the mountains, they could not understand how a

person who had so long retained his faculties unimpaired could give up a

lucrative government office and engage in such a wild-goose chase as

that. Little did they know of the brief but irritating document which I

carried in my pocket, and for which I am determined some day or other

to write a satire against our system of government. I bade them a kindly

farewell, and on a fine evening, toward the latter part of March, took

my departure for Sacramento, there to take the stage for Placerville,

and from that point as fortune might direct.

My stock in trade consisted of two pair of blankets, a spare shirt, a

plug of tobacco, a note-book, and a paint-box. On my arrival in

Placerville I found the whole town in commotion. There was not an animal

to be had at any of the stables without applying three days in advance.

The stage for Strawberry had made its last trip in consequence of the

bad condition of the road. Every hotel and restaurant was full to

overflowing. The streets were blocked up with crowds of adventurers all

bound for Washoe. The gambling and drinking saloons were crammed to

suffocation with customers practicing for Washoe. The clothing stores

were covered with placards offering to sell goods at ruinous sacrifices

to Washoe miners. The forwarding houses and express offices were

overflowing with goods and packages marked for Washoe. The grocery

stores were making up boxes, bags, and bundles of groceries for the

Washoe trade. The stables were constantly starting off passenger and

pack trains for Washoe. Mexican _vaqueros_ were driving headstrong mules

through the streets on the road to Washoe. The newspapers were full of

Washoe. In short, there was nothing but Washoe to be seen, heard, or

thought of. Every arrival from the mountains confirmed the glad tidings

that enormous quantities of silver were being discovered daily in

Washoe. Any man who wanted a fortune needed only to go over there and

pick it up. There was Jack Smith, who made ten thousand dollars the

other day at a single trade; and Tom Jenkins, twenty thousand by right

of discovery; and Bill Brown, forty thousand in the tavern business, and

so on. Every body was getting rich "hand over fist." It was the place

for fortunes. No man could go amiss. I was in search of just such a

place. It suited me to find a fortune ready made. Like Professor

Agassiz, I could not afford to make money, but it would be no

inconvenience to draw a check on the great Washoe depository for fifty

thousand dollars or so, and proceed on my travels. I would visit Japan,

ascend the Amoor River, traverse Tartary, spend a few weeks in Siberia,

rest a day or so at St. Petersburg, cross through Russia to the Black

Sea, visit Persia, Nineveh, and Bagdad, and wind up somewhere in Italy.

I even began to look about the bar-rooms for a map in order to lay out

the route more definitely, but the only map to be seen was De Groot's

outline of the route from Placerville to Washoe. I went to bed rather

tired after the excitement of the day, and somewhat surfeited with

Washoe. Presently I heard a tap at the door; a head was popped through

the opening:

"I say, Cap!"

"Well, what do you say?"

"Are you the man that can't get a animal for Washoe?"

"Yes; have you got one to sell or hire?"

"No, I hain't got one myself, but me and my pardner is going to walk

there, and if you like you can jine our party."

"Thank you; I have a friend who is going with me, but I shall be very

glad to have more company."

"All right, Cap; good-night."

The door was closed, but presently opened again:

"I say, Cap!"

"What now?"

"Do you believe in Washoe?"

"Of course; why not?"

"Well, I suppose it's all right. Good-night; I'm in." And my new friend

left me to my slumbers.

[Illustration: "I SAY, CAP!"]

But who could slumber in such a bedlam, where scores and hundreds of

crack-brained people kept rushing up and down the passage all night, in

and out of every room, banging the doors after them, calling for boots,

carpet sacks, cards, cocktails, and toddies; while amid the ceaseless

din arose ever and anon that potent cry of "Washoe!" which had unsettled

every brain. I turned over and over for the fiftieth time, and at length

fell into an uneasy doze. A mountain seemed to rise before me. Millions

of rats with human faces were climbing up its sides, some burrowing into

holes, some rolling down into bottomless pits, but all labeled Washoe.

Soon the mountain began to shake its sides with suppressed laughter, and

out of a volcano on the top burst sheets of flame, through which jumped

ten thousand grotesque figures in the shape of dollars with spider legs,

shrieking with all their might, "Washoe! ho! ho! Washoe! ho! ho!"

[Illustration]

Surely the sounds were wonderfully real. Tap, tap, at the door.

"I say, Cap!"

"Well, what is it?"

"'Bout time to get up, if you calklate to make Pete's ranch to-night."

So I got up, and, after a cup of coffee, took a ramble on the heights,

where I was amply compensated for my loss of rest by the richness and

beauty of the sunrise. It was still early spring; the hills were covered

with verdure; flowers bloomed in all directions; pleasant little

cottages, scattered here and there, gave a civilized aspect to the

scene; and when I looked over the busy town, and heard the lively rattle

of stages, wagons, and buggies, and saw the long pack-trains winding

their way up the mountains, I felt proud of California and her people.

There is not a prettier little town in the state than Placerville, and

certainly not a better class of people any where than her thriving

inhabitants. They seemed, indeed, to be so well satisfied with their own

mining prospects that they were the least excited of the crowd on the

subject of the new discoveries. The impulse given to business in the

town, however, was well calculated to afford them satisfaction. This was

the last depot of trade on the way to Washoe. My excellent friend Dan

Gelwicks, of the _Mountain Democrat_, assured me that he was perfectly

satisfied to spend the remainder of his days in Placerville. Who that

has ever visited the mountains, or attended a political convention in

Sacramento, does not know the immortal "Dan"--the truest, best-hearted,

handsomest fellow in existence; the very cream and essence of a country

editor; who dresses as he pleases, chews tobacco when he pleases, writes

tremendous political philippics, knows every body, trusts every body,

sets up his own editorials, and on occasions stands ready to do the job

and press work! I am indebted to "Dan" for the free use of his sanctum;

and in consideration of his kindness and hospitality, do hereby transfer

to him all my right, title, and interest in the Roaring Jack Claim,

Wild-Cat Ledge, Devil's Gate, which by this time must be worth ten

thousand dollars a foot.

Before we were quite ready to start our party had increased to five; but

as each had to purchase a knife, tin cup, pound of cheese, or some other

article of luxury, it was ten o'clock before we got fairly under way.

And here I must say that, although our appearance as we passed along the

main street of Placerville elicited no higher token of admiration than

"Go it, Washoe!" such a party, habited and accoutred as we were, would

have made a profound sensation in Hyde Park, London, or even on

Broadway, New York.

[Illustration: "GO IT, WASHOE."]

The road was in good condition, barring a little mud in the neighborhood

of "Hangtown;" and the day was exceedingly bright and pleasant. As I

ascended the first considerable elevation in the succession of heights

which extend all the way for a distance of fifty miles to the summit of

the Sierra Nevada, and cast a look back over the foot-hills, a more

glorious scene of gigantic forests, open valleys, and winding streams

seldom greeted my vision. The air was singularly pure and bracing; every

draught of it was equal to a glass of sparkling Champagne. At

intervals, varying from fifty yards to half a mile, streams of water of

crystal clearness and icy coolness burst from the mountain sides, making

a pleasant music as they crossed the road. Whether the day was

uncommonly warm, or the exercise rather heating, or the packs very

heavy, it was beyond doubt some of the party were afflicted with a

chronic thirst, for they stopped to drink at every spring and rivulet on

the way, giving rise to a suspicion in my mind that they had not been

much accustomed to that wholesome beverage of late. This suspicion was

strengthened by a mysterious circumstance. I had lagged behind at a turn

of the road to adjust my pack, when I was approached by the unique

personage whose head in the doorway had startled me the night before.

"I say, Cap!" At the same time pulling from the folds of his blanket a

dangerous-looking "pocket pistol," he put the muzzle to his mouth, and

discharged the main portion of the contents down his throat.

"What d'ye say, Cap?"

Now I claim to be under no legal obligation to state what I said or did

on that occasion; but this much I am willing to avow, that upon resuming

our journey there was a glorious sense of freedom and independence in

our adventurous mode of life. The fresh air, odorous with the scent of

pine forests and wild flowers; the craggy rocks overhung with the grape

and the morning-glory; the merry shouts of the Mexican _vaqueros_,

mingled with the wild dashing of the river down the canyon on our right;

the free exercise of every muscle; the consciousness of exemption from

all farther restraints of office, were absolutely inspiring. I think a

lyrical poem would not have exceeded my powers on that occasion. Every

faculty seemed invigorated to the highest pitch of perfection. Hang the

dignity of office! A murrain upon party politicians and inspector

generals! To the bottomless pit with all vouchers, abstracts, and

accounts current! I scorn that meagre and brainless style of the heads

of the Executive Departments, "Sir,--Your services are no longer--" What

dunce could not write a more copious letter than that? Who would be a

slave when all nature calls upon him in trumpet tones to be free? Who

would sell his birthright for a mess of pottage when he could lead the

life of an honest miner--earn his bread by the sweat of his

brow--breathe the fresh air of heaven without stint or limit? And of

all miners in the world, who would not be a Washoe miner? Beyond

question, this was a condition of mind to be envied and admired; and,

notwithstanding the two pair of heavy blankets on my back, and a stiff

pair of boots on my feet that galled my ankles most grievously, I really

felt lighter and brighter than for years past. Nor did it seem

surprising to me then that so many restless men should abandon the

haunts of civilization, and seek variety and freedom in the wilderness

of rugged mountains comprising the mining districts of the Sierra

Nevada. The life of the miner is one of labor, peril, and exposure; but

it possesses the fascinating element of liberty, and the promise of

unlimited reward. In the midst of privations, amounting, at times, to

the verge of starvation, what glowing visions fill the mind of the

toiling adventurer! Richer in anticipation than the richest of his

fellow-beings, he builds golden palaces, and scatters them over the

world with a princely hand. He may not be a man of imagination; but in

the secret depths of his soul there is a latent hope that some day or

other he will strike a "lead," and who knows but it may be a solid

mountain of gold, spangled with diamonds?

[Illustration: THE POCKET PISTOL.]

The road from Placerville to Strawberry Flat is for the most part

graded, and no doubt is a very good road in summer; but it would be a

violation of conscience to recommend it in the month of April. The

melting of the accumulated snows of the past winter had partially washed

it away, and what remained was deeply furrowed by the innumerable

streams that sought an outlet in the ravines. In many places it seemed

absolutely impracticable for wheeled vehicles; but it is an article of

faith with California teamsters that wherever a horse can go a wagon can

follow. There were some exceptions to this rule, however, for the road

was literally lined with broken-down stages, wagons, and carts,

presenting every variety of aspect, from the general smash-up to the

ordinary capsize. Wheels had taken rectangular cuts to the bottom;

broken tongues projected from the mud; loads of dry-goods and

whisky-barrels lay wallowing in the general wreck of matter; stout beams

cut from the road-side were scattered here and there, having served in

vain efforts to extricate the wagons from the oozy mire. Occasionally

these patches of bad road extended for miles, and here the scenes were

stirring in the highest degree. Whole trains of pack-mules struggled

frantically to make the transit from one dry point to another; "burros,"

heavily laden, were frequently buried up to the neck, and had to be

hauled out by main force. Now and then an enterprising mule would emerge

from the mud, and, by attempting to keep the edge of the road, lose his

foothold, and go rolling to the bottom of the canyon, pack and all. Amid

the confusion worse confounded, the cries and maledictions of the

_vaqueros_ were perfectly overwhelming; but when the mules stuck fast in

the mud, and it became necessary to unpack them, then it was that the

_vaqueros_ shone out most luminously. They shouted, swore, beat the

mules, kicked them, pulled them, pushed them, swore again; and when all

these resources failed, tore their hair, and resorted to prayer and

meditation. (Opposite is a faint attempt at the _vaquero_

sliding-scale.)

[Illustration: CALIFORNIA STAGE-DRIVER.]

It will doubtless be a consolation to some of these unhappy _vaqueros_

to know that such of their mules as they failed to extricate from the

mud during the winter may, during the approaching summer, find their way

out through the cracks. Should any future traveler be overtaken by

thirst, and see a pair of ears growing out of the road, he will be safe

in digging there, for underneath stands a mule, and on the back of that

mule is a barrel of whisky.

[Illustration: WHISKY BELOW.]

Owing to repeated stoppages on the way, night overtook us at a place

called "Dirty Mike's." Here we found a ruinously dilapidated frame

shanty, the bar, of course, being the main feature. Next to the bar was

the public bedroom, in which there was every accommodation except beds,

bedding, chairs, tables, and washstands; that is to say, there was a

piece of looking-glass nailed against the window-frame, and the general

comb and tooth-brush hanging by strings from a neighboring post.

A very good supper of pork and beans, fried potatoes, and coffee, was

served up for us on very dirty plates, by Mike's cook; and after doing

it ample justice, we turned in on our blankets and slept soundly till

morning. It was much in favor of our landlord that he charged us only

double the customary price. I would cheerfully give him a recommendation

if he would only wash his face and his plates once or twice a week.

[Illustration: CARAMBO!--CARAJA--SACRAMENTO!--SANTA MARIA!--DIAVOLO!]

The ascent of the mountains is gradual and continuous the entire

distance to Strawberry. After the first day's journey there is but

little variety in the scenery. On the right, a fork of the American

River plunges down through a winding canyon, its force and volume

augmented at short intervals by numerous smaller streams that cross the

road, and by others from the opposite side. Thick forests of pine loom

up on each side, their tops obscuring the sky. A few patches of snow lay

along our route on the first day, but on the second snow was visible on

both sides of the canyon.

The succession of scenes along the road afforded us constant

entertainment. In every gulch and ravine a tavern was in process of

erection. Scarcely a foot of ground upon which man or beast could find a

foothold was exempt from a claim. There were even bars with liquors,

offering a tempting place of refreshment to the weary traveler where no

vestige of a house was yet perceptible. Board and lodging signs over

tents not more than ten feet square were as common as blackberries in

June; and on no part of the road was there the least chance of suffering

from the want of whisky, dry-goods, or cigars.

[Illustration: BOARD AND LODGING.]

An almost continuous string of Washoeites stretched "like a great snake

dragging its slow length along" as far as the eye could reach. In the

course of this day's tramp we passed parties of every description and

color: Irishmen, wheeling their blankets, provisions, and mining

implements on wheel-barrows; American, French, and German

foot-passengers, leading heavily-laden horses, or carrying their packs

on their backs, and their picks and shovels slung across their

shoulders; Mexicans, driving long trains of pack-mules, and swearing

fearfully, as usual, to keep them in order; dapper-looking gentlemen,

apparently from San Francisco, mounted on fancy horses; women, in men's

clothes, mounted on mules or "burros;" Pike County specimens, seated on

piles of furniture and goods in great lumbering wagons; whisky-peddlers,

with their bar-fixtures and whisky on mule-back, stopping now and then

to quench the thirst of the toiling multitude; organ-grinders, carrying

their organs; drovers, riding, raving, and tearing away frantically

through the brush after droves of self-willed cattle designed for the

shambles; in short, every imaginable class, and every possible species

of industry, was represented in this moving pageant. It was a striking

and impressive spectacle to see, in full competition with youth and

strength, the most pitiable specimens of age and decay--white-haired old

men, gasping for breath as they dragged their palsied limbs after them

in the exciting race of avarice; cripples and hunchbacks; even sick men

from their beds--all stark mad for silver.

But the tide was not setting entirely in the direction of Carson Valley.

A counter-current opposed our progress in the shape of saddle-trains

without riders, long lines of pack-mules laden with silver ore,

scattering parties of weather-beaten and foot-sore pedestrians, bearing

their hard experience in their faces, and solitary stragglers, of all

ages and degrees, mounted on skeleton horses, or toiling wearily

homeward on foot--some merry, some sad, some eagerly intent on farther

speculation, but all bearing the unmistakable impress of Washoe.

Among the latter, a lank, leathery-looking fellow, doubtless from the

land of wooden nutmegs, was shambling along through the mud, talking to

himself apparently for want of more congenial fellowship. I was about

to pass him, when he arrested my attention:

"Look here, stranger!"

I looked.

"You're bound for Washoe, I reckon?"

I was bound for Washoe.

"What line of business be you goin' into there?"

Was not quite certain, but thought it would be the agency line.

[Illustration: GRINDSTONES.]

"Ho! the agency line--stage-agent, maybe? Burche's line, I guess?"

That was not it exactly; but no matter. Perhaps I could do something for

him in Washoe.

"Nothing, stranger, except to keep dark. Do you know the price of

grindstones in Placerville?"

I didn't know the price of grindstones in Placerville, but supposed they

might be cheap, as there were plenty there.

"That's my hand exactly!" said my friend, with an inward chuckle of

satisfaction. I expressed some curiosity to know in what respect the

matter of grindstones suited his hand so well, when, looking cautiously

around, he drew near, and informed me confidentially that he had struck

a "good thing" in Washoe. He had only been there a month, and had made a

considerable pile. There was a dreadful scarcity of grindstones there,

and, seeing that miners, carpenters, and mechanics of all sorts were

hard up for something to sharpen their tools on, he had secured the only

grindstone that could be had, which was pretty well used up when he got

it. But he rigged it up ship-shape and Bristol fashion, and set up a

grinding business, which brought him in from twenty to thirty dollars a

day, till nothing was left of the stone. Now he was bound to Placerville

in search of a good one, with which he intended to return immediately. I

wished him luck and proceeded on my way, wondering what would turn up

next.

It was not long before I was stopped by another enterprising personage;

but this was altogether a different style of man. There was something

brisk and spruce in his appearance, in spite of a shirt far gone in rags

and a shock of hair that had long been a stranger to the scissors. What

region of country he came from it was impossible to say. I think he was

a cosmopolite, and belonged to the world generally.

"Say, Colonel!"--this was his style of address--"on the way to Washoe?"

[Illustration: A SPECULATOR.]

"Yes."

"Excuse me: I have a little list of claims here, Colonel, which I would

like to show you;" and he pulled from his shirt-pocket a greasy package

of papers, which he dexterously unfolded. "Guess you're from San

Francisco, Colonel? Here is--let me see--

200 feet in the Pine Nut,

300 feet in the Grizzly Ledge,

150 feet in the Gouge Eye,

125 feet in the Wild-Cat,

100 feet in the Root-Hog-or-Die,

50 feet in the Bobtail Horse,

25 feet in the Hell Roaring;

and many others, Colonel, in the best leads. Now the fact is, d'ye see,

I'm a little hard up, and want to make a raise. I'll sell all, or a

part, at a considerable sacrifice for a small amount of ready cash."

"How much do you want?"

"Why, if I could raise twenty dollars or so, it would answer my present

purpose; I'll sell you twenty feet in any of these claims for that

amount. Every foot of them is worth a thousand dollars; but, d'ye see,

they're not yet developed."

Circumstances forced me to decline this offer, much to the disgust of

the enterprising speculator in claims, who assured me I might go farther

and fare worse; but somehow the names did not strike me as attractive in

a mineral point of view.

I had by this time lost the run of all my comrades, and was obliged to

pursue my journey alone. Three had gone ahead, and the other was nearly

used up. The day had opened fairly, but now there were indications of

bad weather. It was quite dark when I reached a small shanty about four

miles from Strawberry. Here I halted till my remaining comrade came up.

The proprietor of the shanty was going into the tavern business, and was

engaged in building a large clapboard house. His men were all at supper,

and in reply to our application for lodgings, he told us we might sleep

in the calf-pen if we liked, but there was no room in the house. He

could give us something to eat after his workmen were done supper, but

not before. He had brandy and gin, but no tea to spare. On the whole, he

thought we had better go on to Strawberry.

Now this was encouraging. It was already pattering down rain, and the

calf-pen to which he directed us was knee-deep in mud and manure,

without roof or shelter of any kind. Even the unfortunate progeny of the

old cow, which ran bellowing around the fence, in motherly solicitude

for her offspring, shivered with cold, and made piteous appeals to this

hard-hearted man. I finally bribed him, by means of a gold dollar, to

let us have a small piece of bread and a few swallows of tea. Thus

refreshed, we resumed our journey.

Four miles more of slush and snow, up hill nearly all the way, across

rickety bridges, over roaring cataracts, slippery rocks, stumps, and

brush, through acres of black oozy mire, and so dark a bat could

scarcely recognize his own father! It was a walk to be remembered. The

man in the shanty, if he possess a spark of humanity, will, I trust,

feel bitterly mortified when he reads this article. He caused me some

gloomy reflections upon human nature, which have been a constant source

of repentance ever since. But consider the provocation. The rain poured

down heavily, mingled with a cutting sleet; a doleful wind came moaning

through the pines; our blankets were wet through, and not a stitch upon

our backs left dry; even my spare shirt was soaking the strength out of

the plug of tobacco so carefully stowed away in its folds, and my paints

were giving it what aid they could in the way of color.

Well, there is an end to all misery upon earth, and so there was to this

day's walk. A light at length glimmered through the pines, first faint

and flickering, then a full blaze, then half a dozen brilliant lights,

which proved to be camp-fires under the trees, and soon we stood in

front of a large and substantial log house. This was the famous

"Strawberry," known throughout the length and breadth of the land as the

best stopping-place on the route to Washoe, and the last station before

crossing the summit of the Sierra Nevada. The winter road for

wheel-vehicles here ended; and, indeed, it may be said to have ended

some distance below, for the last twelve miles of the road seemed

utterly impracticable for wagons. At least, most of those I saw were

fast in the mud, and likely to remain there till the beginning of

summer. Dark and rainy as it was, there were crowds scattered around the

house, as if they had some secret and positive enjoyment in the

contemplation of the weather. Edging our way through, we found the

bar-room packed as closely as it could be without bursting out some of

the walls; and of all the motley gangs that ever happened together

within a space of twenty feet, this certainly was the most extraordinary

and the most motley. Dilapidated gentlemen with slouched hats and big

boots, Jew peddlers dripping wet, red-shirted miners, teamsters,

vaqueros, packers, and traders, swearing horribly at nothing; some

drinking at the bar, some warming themselves before a tremendous log

fire that sent up a reeking steam from the conglomerated mass of wet and

muddy clothes, to say nothing of the boots and socks that lay simmering

near the coals. A few bare and sore footed outcasts crouched down in the

corners, trying to catch a nap, and here and there a returned Washoeite,

describing in graphic language, garnished with oaths, the wonders and

beauties of Virginia City. But chiefly remarkable in the crowd was the

regiment of light infantry, pressed in double file against the

dining-room door, awaiting the fourth or fifth charge at the table.

[Illustration: DINNER AT STRAWBERRY.]

At the first tinkle of the bell the door was burst open with a

tremendous crash, and for a moment no battle-scene in Waterloo, no

charge at Resaca de la Palma or the heights of Chapultepec, no Crimean

avalanche of troops dealing death and destruction around them, could

have equaled the terrific onslaught of the gallant troops of Strawberry.

The whole house actually tottered and trembled at the concussion, as if

shaken by an earthquake. Long before the main body had assaulted the

table the din of arms was heard above the general uproar; the deafening

clatter of plates, knives, and forks, and the dreadful battle-cry of

"Waiter! waiter! Pork and beans! Coffee, waiter! Beefsteak! Sausages!

Potatoes! Ham and eggs--quick, waiter, for God's sake!" It was a scene

of destruction and carnage long to be remembered. I had never before

witnessed a battle, but I now understood how men could become maddened

by the smell of blood. When the table was vacated it presented a

shocking scene of desolation. Whole dishes were swept of their contents;

coffee-pots were discharged to the dregs; knives, forks, plates, and

spoons lay in a confused mass among the bones and mutilated remnants of

the dead; chunks of bread and hot biscuit were scattered broadcast, and

mince-pies were gored into fragments; tea-cups and saucers were

capsized; and the waiters, hot, red, and steamy, were panting and

swearing after their superhuman labors.

Half an hour more and the battle-field was again cleared for action.

This was the sixth assault committed during the evening; but it was none

the less terrible on that account. Inspired by hunger, I joined the army

of invaders this time, and by gigantic efforts of strength maintained an

honorable position in the ranks. As the bell sounded, we broke! I fixed

my eye on a chair, rushed through the struggling mass, threw out my

hands frantically to seize it, but, alas! it was already captured. A

dark-visaged man, who looked as if he carried concealed weapons on his

person, was seated in it, shouting hoarsely the battle-cry of "Pork and

beans! Waiter! Coffee, waiter!" Up and down the table it was one gulping

mass, jaws distended, arms stretched out, knives, forks, and even the

bare hands plunged into the enemy. Not a spot was vacant. I venture to

assert that from the commencement of the assault till the capture and

complete investment of the fortifications did not exceed five seconds.

The storming of the Malakoff and the fall of Sebastopol could no longer

claim a place in history.

At length fortune favored the brave. I got a seat at the next onslaught,

and took ample satisfaction for the delay by devouring such a meal as

none but a hardy Washoeite could be expected to digest. Pork and beans,

cabbage, beef-steak, sausages, pies, tarts, coffee and tea, eggs,

etc.--these were only a few of the luxuries furnished by the

enterprising proprietor of the "Strawberry." May every blessing attend

that great benefactor of mankind! I say it in all sincerity; he is a

great and good man, a Websterian innkeeper, for he thoroughly

understands the constitution. I would give honorable mention to his name

if I knew it; but it matters not; his house so far surpasses the

Metropolitan or the St. Nicholas that there is no comparison in the

relish with which the food is devoured. In respect to sleeping

accommodations there may be some difference in their favor. I was too

late to secure a bed in the general bedroom up stairs, where two hundred

and fifty tired wayfarers were already snoring in double-shotted bunks 2

x 6; but the landlord was a man of inexhaustible resources. A private

whisper in his ear made him a friend forever. He nodded sagaciously, and

led me into a small parlor about 15 x 20, in which he gave my company of

five what he called a "lay-out," that is to say, a lay-out on the floor,

with our own blankets for beds and covering. This was a special favor,

and I would have cherished it in my memory for years had not a suspicion

been aroused in my mind before the lapse of half an hour that there were

others in the confidence of mine host. Scarcely had I entered upon the

first nap when somebody undertook to walk upon me, commencing on my head

and ending on the pit of my stomach. I grasped him firmly by the leg. He

apologized at once in the most abject manner; and well for him he did,

for it was enough to incense any man to be suddenly roused up in that

manner. The intruder, I discovered, was a Jew peddler. He offered me a

cigar, which I smoked in token of amity; and in the mean time he turned

in alongside and smoked another. When daylight broke I cast around me to

see what every body was doing to create such a general commotion. I

perceived that there were about forty sleepers, all getting up. Boots

strongly scented with feet, and stockings of every possible degree of

odor, were lying loose in all directions; blankets, packs, old clothes,

and ragged shirts, and I don't know what all--a palpable violation of

the landlord's implied compact. True, he had not agreed to furnish a

single bed for five, but he never hinted that he was going to put forty

men, of all sorts and sizes, in the same general "lay-out," as he was

pleased to style it, and that only large enough for half the number.

Once, in Minnesota, I slept in a bed with eight, and gave considerable

offense to my landlord when I remonstrated against his putting in a

ninth. He said he liked to see a man "accommodating"--a reflection upon

my good-nature which I considered wholly unwarranted by the

circumstances. But this was even a stronger case.

[Illustration: THE "LAY OUT."]

The Jew peddler had not undressed, and, not to judge him harshly, I

don't think he ever did undress. He was soon up, and left, as I suppose,

while I was dressing. With him departed my stockings. They were not very

fine--perhaps, considering the muddy road, not very clean; but they were

all I had, and were valuable beyond gold or silver in this foot-weary

land. I never saw them more. What aggravated the offense, when I came to

review it seriously, was, that I remembered having seen him draw just

such a pair over his boots, as a protection against the snow, without

the remotest suspicion of the great wrong he was doing me.

[Illustration: THE STOCKING-THIEF.]

We shall meet this Stocking-thief again.

CHAPTER III.

ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS.

Upon taking an observation from the front door at Strawberry, we were

rather startled to find that the whole place was covered with snow to

the depth of two or three feet. The pack trains had given up all hope of

getting over the mountain. It was snowing hard, and the appearance of

the weather was dark and threatening. To be housed up here with three or

four hundred men, and the additional numbers that might be expected

before night, was not a pleasant prospect; but to be caught in a

snow-storm on the summit, where so many had perished during the past

winter, was worse still. Upon reviewing the chances I resolved to start,

and if the storm continued I thought there would be no difficulty in

finding the way back. It was eight miles of a continuous and precipitous

ascent to the summit, and three miles from that point to the Lake House

in Lake Valley, where the accommodations were said to be the worst on

the whole trail.

[Illustration: THE TRAIL FROM STRAWBERRY.]

A few miles from Strawberry one of the party gave out in consequence of

sore feet; the other two pushed on, despite the storm which now raged

fearfully, but had not proceeded far when they were forced to turn back.

I was loth to leave my disabled friend, and returned with him to

Strawberry, where we had a repetition of nearly all that has already

been described, only a little intensified in consequence of increased

numbers. The others of our party stopped somewhere on the road, and I

did not meet them again until next afternoon at Woodford's, on the other

side of the mountain.

As soon as it was light next morning I took another observation of the

weather. It was still snowing, but not so heavily as on the preceding

day. My remaining partner was by this time completely crippled in his

feet, and had to hire a horse at the rate of twenty dollars for

twenty-five miles.

I was delayed some hours in getting off, owing to the pressure of the

forces at the breakfast-table, but finally made a fair start for the

summit. My pack had become a source of considerable inconvenience. I was

accustomed to walking, but not to carrying a burden of twenty or

twenty-five pounds. My shoulders and ankles were so galled that every

step had to be made on the nicest calculation; but the new snow on top

of the old trail began to melt as soon as the sun came out, making a

very bad trail for pedestrians. Two miles from Strawberry we crossed a

bridge, and struck for the summit.

Here we had need of all our powers of endurance. It was a constant

struggle through melted snow and mud--slipping, sliding, grasping,

rolling, tumbling, and climbing, up again and still up, till it verily

seemed as if we must be approaching the clouds. The most prominent

peculiarity of these mountains is, that a person on foot, with a heavy

load on his back, is never at the top when he imagines he is; the

"divide" is always a little farther on and a little higher up--at least

until he passes it, which he does entirely ignorant of the fact. There

is really no perceptible "divide;" you pass a series of elevations, and

commence the descent without any apparent difference in the trail.

The pack trains had broken through the old snow in many places, leaving

deep holes, which, being now partially covered with recent snow, proved

to be regular man-traps, often bringing up the unwary pedestrian "all

standing." The sudden wrenching of the feet in the smaller holes, which

had been explored by the legs of horses, mules, and cattle, was an

occurrence of every ten or a dozen steps. In many places the trail was

perfectly honeycombed with holes, where the heavily-laden animals had

cut through the snow, and it was exceedingly difficult to find a

foothold. To step on either side and avoid these bad places would seem

easy enough, but I tried it on more than one occasion, and got very

nearly buried alive. All along the route, at intervals of a mile or two,

we continued to meet pack trains; and as every body had to give way

before them, the tumbling out and plunging in the snow were very lively.

I walked on rapidly in the hope of making Woodford's--the station on the

eastern slope of the mountain--before night, and by degrees got ahead of

the main body of footmen who had left Strawberry that morning. In a

narrow gorge, a short distance from the commencement of the descent into

Lake Valley, I happened to look up a little to the right, where, to my

astonishment, I perceived four large brown wolves sitting on their

haunches not over twenty feet from me! They seemed entirely unconcerned

at my presence, except in so far as they may have indulged in some

speculation as to the amount of flesh contained on my body. As I was

entirely unarmed, I thought it would be but common politeness to speak

to them, so I gave them a yell in the Indian language. At this they

retired a short distance, but presently came back again as if to inquire

the exact meaning of my salutation. I now thought it best not to be too

intimate, for I saw they were getting rather familiar on a short

acquaintance; and picking up a stick of wood, I made a rush and a yell

at them which must have been formidable in the extreme. This time they

retreated more rapidly, and seemed undecided about returning. At this

crisis in affairs a pack train came along, the driver of which had a

pistol. Upon pointing out the wolves to him he fired, but missed them.

They then retreated up the side of the mountain, and I saw nothing more

of them.

[Illustration: "WE ARE WAITING FOR YOU."]

The descent of the "grade" was the next rough feature in our day's

journey. From the point overlooking Lake Valley the view is exceedingly

fine. Lake Bigler--a sheet of water forty or fifty miles in length by

ten or fifteen wide--lies embosomed in the mountains in full view from

this elevation; but there was a drizzling sleet which obscured it on

this occasion. I had a fine sight of it on my return, however, and have

seldom witnessed any scene in Europe or elsewhere to compare with it in

extent and grandeur.

[Illustration: A SHORT CUT.]

The trail on the grade was slippery with sleet, and walking upon it was

out of the question. Running, jumping, and sliding were the only modes

of locomotion at all practicable. I tried one of the short cuts, and

found it an expeditious way of getting to the bottom. Some trifling

obstruction deprived me of the use of my feet at the very start, after

which I traveled down in a series of gyrations at once picturesque and

complicated. When I reached the bottom I was entirely unable to

comprehend how it had all happened; but there I was, pack and baggage,

all safely delivered in the snow--bones sound, and free of expense.

At the Lake House--a tolerably good-sized shanty at the foot of the

grade--we found a large party assembled, taking their ease as they best

could in such a place, without much to eat and but little to drink,

except old-fashioned tarentula-juice, "warranted to kill at forty

paces."

The host of the Lake was in a constant state of nervous excitement, and

did more scolding, swearing, gouging, and general hotel work in the

brief space of half an hour than any man I ever saw. He seemed to be

quite worn out with his run of customers--from a hundred to three

hundred of a night, and nowhere to stow 'em--all cussin' at him for not

keepin' provisions; and how could he, when they ate him clean out every

day, and some of 'em never paid him, and never will?

I was not sorry to get clear of the Lake House, its filth, and its

troubles.

Upon crossing the valley, which is here about a mile wide, the ascent of

the next summit commences. Here we had almost a repetition of the main

summit, except that the descent on the other side is more gradual.

At length we struck the beginning of Hope Valley. I shall always

remember this portion of the journey as the worst I ever traveled on

foot. Every yard of the trail was honeycombed to the depth of two or

three feet. On the edges there was no foothold at all; and occasionally

we had to wade knee-deep in black, sticky mire, from which it was

difficult to extricate one's feet and boots at the same time. I was glad

enough when myself and two casual acquaintances succeeded in reaching

the solitary log house which stands near the middle of the valley.

I little expected to find in this wilderness a philosopher of the old

school; but here was a man who had evidently made up his mind to

withstand all the allurements of wealth, and devote the remainder of his

life to ascetic reflections upon the follies of mankind. Diogenes in his

tub was not more rigorous in his seclusion than this isolated

inhabitant of Hope Valley. His log cabin, to be sure, was some

improvement, in extent, upon the domicile of that famous philosopher;

but in point of architectural style, I don't know that there could have

been much advantage either way.

A few empty bags, and a bar entirely destitute of bottles, with a rough

bench to sit upon, comprised all the furniture that was visible to the

naked eye. From a beam overhead hung a bunch of foxskins, which emitted

a very gamy odor; and the clay floor had apparently never been swept,

save by the storms that had passed over it before the cabin was built. A

couple of rifles hung upon pegs projecting from the chimney, and a

powder-flask was the only mantle-piece ornament. Diogenes sat, or rather

reclined, on the pile of empty sacks, holding by the neck a fierce

bull-dog. The sanguinary propensities of the animal were manifested by

repeated attempts to break away, and seize somebody by the throat or the

leg; not that he growled, or snarled, or showed any puppyish symptoms of

a trifling kind, but there was a playful switching of his tail and a

leer of the eye uncommonly vicious and tiger-like. It certainly would

not have taken him more than two minutes to hamstring the stoutest man

in the party.

Between the dog and his master there was a very striking congeniality of

disposition, if one might judge by the expression of their respective

countenances. It would apparently have taken but little provocation to

make either of them bite.

Battered and bruised as we were, and hungry into the bargain, after our

hard struggle over the mountain, it became a matter of vital importance

that we should secure lodgings for the night, and, if possible, get

something to eat. The place looked rather unpromising; but, after our

experience in Lake Valley, we were not easily discouraged. Upon

broaching the subject to Diogenes in the mildest possible manner, his

brow darkened, as if a positive insult to his common sense had been

attempted.

[Illustration: DIOGENES.]

"Stay here all night!" he repeated, savagely. "What the h--ll do you

want to stay here all night for?"

We hinted at a disposition to sleep, and thought he might possibly have

room on the floor for our blankets.

At this he snapped his fingers contemptuously, and muttered, "Can't come

that over me! I've been here too long for that!"

"But we are willing to pay you whatever is fair."

"Pay? Who said I wanted pay? Do I look like a man that wants money?"

We thought not.

"If I wanted money," continued Diogenes, "I could have made fifty

dollars a day for the last two months. But I ask no favors of the world.

Some of 'em wants to stay here whether I will or no; I rather think I'm

too many for any of that sort--eh, Bull, what d'ye say?" Bull growled,

with a bloodthirsty meaning. "Too many altogether, gents--me and Bull."

There was a sturdy independence about this fellow, and a scorn for

filthy lucre that rather astonished me as a citizen of a money-loving

state.

"Well, if you can't let us stay all night, perhaps you can get us up a

snack of dinner?"

"Snack of dinner?"--and here there was a guttural chuckle that boded

failure again--"I tell you this ain't a tavern; and if it was, my cook's

gone out to take a airing."

"But have you nothing in the house to eat?"

"Oh yes, there's a bunch of foxskins. If you'd like some of 'em cooked,

I'll bile 'em for you."

This man's disposition had evidently been soured in early life. I think

he must have been crossed in love. His style had the merit of being

terse, but his manner was sarcastic to the verge of impoliteness.

"Well, I suppose we can warm ourselves at the fire?"

"If you can," quoth Diogenes, "you can do more than I can;" and here he

hauled his blanket over his shoulders, and fell back on the empty potato

sacks as if there was no more to be said on that or any other subject.

The bull-dog seemed to be of the same way of thinking, and quietly laid

down by his master; still, however, keeping his eye on us, as suspicious

characters.

Nothing remained but to push on for Woodford's, distant six miles.

Now, when you come to put six miles on the end of a day's journey such

as ours had been, it becomes a serious matter. Besides, it was growing

late, and a terrific wind, accompanied by a blinding sleet, rendered it

scarcely practicable to stand up, much less to walk. I do not know how

we ever staggered over that six miles. The last three, however, were

down hill, and not so bad, as the snow was pretty well gone from the

canyon on the approach to Woodford's.

This is the last station on the way over from Carson, and forms the

upper terminus of that valley. It is supposed to be in Utah, but our

landlord could not tell us exactly where the boundary-line ran.

We found here several hundred people, bound in both directions, and

passed a very rough night, trying to get a little sleep amid the motley

and noisy crowd.

I had endured the journey thus far very well, and had gained

considerably in strength and appetite. The next day, however, upon

striking into the sand of Carson Valley, my feet became terribly

blistered, and the walking was exceedingly painful. There are some good

farms in the upper part of the valley, between Woodford's and Genoa,

though the general aspect of the country is barren in the extreme.

By sundown I had made only fifteen miles, and still was three miles from

Genoa. Every hundred yards was now equal to a mile. At length I found it

utterly impossible to move another step. It was quite dark, and there

was nothing for it but to sit down on the road-side. Fortunately, the

weather was comparatively mild. As I was meditating how to pass the

night, I perceived a hot spring close by, toward which I crept; and

finding the water strongly impregnated with salt, it occurred to me that

it might benefit my feet. I soon plunged them in, and in half an hour

found them so much improved that I was enabled to resume my journey. An

hour more, and I was snugly housed at Genoa.

This was a place of some importance during the time of the Mormon

settlements, but had not kept pace with Carson City in the general

improvement caused by the recent discoveries. At present it contained a

population of not more than two or three hundred, chiefly store-keepers,

teamsters, and workmen employed upon a neighboring saw-mill. The

inhabitants professed to be rich in silver leads, but upon an

examination of the records to find the lead in which my San Francisco

friend had invested, and which was represented to be in this district, I

was unable to find any trace of it; and there was no such name as that

of the alleged owner known or ever heard of in Genoa. In fact, as I

afterward ascertained, it was purely a fictitious name, and the whole

transaction was one of those Peter Funk swindles so often practiced upon

the unwary during this memorable era of swindles. I don't know how my

friend received the intelligence, but I reported it to him without a

solitary mitigating circumstance. Had I met with the vile miscreant who

had imposed upon him, I should have felt bound to resort to personal

measures of satisfaction, in consideration of the fund expended by my

friend on the expenses of this commission of inquiry. The deeds were so

admirably drawn, and the names written so legibly, that I don't wonder

he was taken in. In fact, the only obstacle to his scheme of sudden

wealth was, that there were no such mines, and no such men as the

alleged discoverers in existence.