CROSSING THE SIERRA NEVADA.
When Glen next woke to a realizing sense of his surroundings, the
evening shadows had again fallen, and he heard familiar voices near by
him. All were there, General Elting, Mr. Hobart, "Billy" Brackett,
Binney Gibbs, and the rest, just sitting down to a supper at the
hospitable ranch table. It was laden with fresh beef, soft bread,
butter, eggs, milk, boiled cabbage, and tea, all of them luxuries that
they had not tasted for months. And they had plates, cups and saucers,
spoons, knives, and forks. Glen wondered if he should know how to use
them; but he did not wonder if he were hungry. Nor did he wait for an
invitation to join that supper-party.
He was dirty and ragged and unkempt as he entered the room in which his
comrades were assembled; but what did they care? He was the one who had
found help and sent it to them in the time of their sore need. Some of
them owed their lives to him, perhaps all of them did. Every man in the
room stood up, as the chief took him by the hand and led him to the head
of the table, saying,
"Here he is, gentlemen. Here is the lad who saved the second division.
Some of us might have got through without his help; others certainly
would not. Right here I wish to thank him, and to thank God for the
strength, pluck, and powers of endurance with which this boy, to whom we
owe so much, is endowed."
And Glen! How did he take all this praise? Why, he was so hungry, and
his eyes were fixed so eagerly on the table full of good things spread
before him that he hardly knew what the general was talking about. If
they would only let him sit down and eat, and drink some of that
delicious-looking water! He came very near interrupting the proceedings
by doing so. At length, to his great relief, they all sat down, and in a
moment Glen was eating and drinking in a manner only possible to a
hearty boy who has gone without water and almost without food for two
days.
A little later, seated before a glorious camp-fire of oak logs outside
the ranch, Glen learned how the two ranchmen, after getting him to the
house, had loaded a wagon with barrels of water and gone out on the
desert. They first found General Elting, nearly exhausted, but still
walking, within a couple of miles of the valley, and afterwards
discovered the rest of the party dragging themselves falteringly along
beside one of the ambulances, which, with the notes and maps of the
expedition, was the only thing they had attempted to bring in.
And Nettle! Oh, yes; the brave little mare was also found, revived, and
brought in to the ranch. She needed a long rest; and both for her sake
and as a token of his gratitude, Glen presented her to one of the
ranchmen. The settlers went out that same night after the other
ambulance and the wagon, abandoned on the shore of the salt lake. When
they returned, General Elting traded his big, nearly exhausted army
mules for their wiry little bronchos, giving two for one, and thus
securing fresh teams to haul all that remained of his wagon-train to the
coast.
The party spent three days in recruiting at this kindly ranch, to which
they will always look back with grateful hearts, and think of as one of
the most beautiful spots on earth. Then, strengthened and refreshed,
they passed on up the valley, which proved to be that of the Tehachapa,
the very pass towards which they had directed their course from the
moment of leaving the Colorado.
How beautiful seemed its oak-groves, its meadows, its abounding springs
of cool, sweet water, and its clear, bracing air! How they ate and slept
and worked and enjoyed living! What grand camp-fires they had, and how
much merriment circulated about them! And had they not cause for
rejoicing? Had they not toiled across half the width of a continent? Had
they not traversed vast plains and mountain-ranges and deserts? Had they
not encountered savage men and savage beasts? Had they not suffered from
hunger, thirst, cold, and hardships of all kinds? Had they not conquered
and triumphed over all these? Were they not left far behind, and was not
the journey's end in sight? No wonder they were light-hearted and
excited, and no wonder they seemed to inhale champagne with every breath
of that mountain air!
General Elting left them at the summit of the pass, and, taking Binney
Gibbs with him in his private ambulance, hastened on to Los Angeles to
make arrangements for the transportation of the party, by steamer, up
the coast to San Francisco; for there were no railroads in California in
those days.
The rest of the engineers travelled leisurely down the western slope of
the Sierras into a region that became more charming with each mile of
progress. It was spring-time. The rainy season was drawing to its close,
and the Golden State was at its best. The air was filled with the sweet
scents of innumerable flowers, the song of birds, and the music of
rushing waters. The bay-trees wore their new spring robes of vivid
green, from which the soft winds shook out delightfully spicy odors. The
trunks of the manzanitas glowed beneath their wine-red skins, while the
madronos were clad in glossy, fawn-colored satins. To the toil-worn
explorers, just off the alkaline sands of the parched and verdureless
desert, the old mission of San Gabriel, nestled at the base of the
western foot-hills, seemed the very garden-spot of the world. Here were
groves of oranges, lemons, limes, pomegranates, and olives. Here were
roses and jasmines. Here were heliotrope and fuchsias, grown to be
trees, and a bewildering profusion of climbing vines and flowering
shrubs, of which they knew not the names.
But they recognized the oranges, though none of them had ever seen one
growing before; and, with a shout of joy, the entire party rushed into
the grove, where the trees were laden at once with the luscious fruit
and perfumed blossoms. There was no pause to discuss the proper method
of peeling an orange in this case, for they did not stop to peel them at
all. They just ate them, skin and all, like so many apples. It was such
a treat as they had never enjoyed before, and they made the most of it.
Not long after leaving San Gabriel, as they were making a night march
towards Los Angeles, Glen suddenly became aware of a strange humming
sound above his head; and, looking up, saw a telegraph wire. With a glad
shout he announced its presence. It was the most civilized thing they
had seen since leaving Kansas.
At Los Angeles they could not make up their minds to endure the close,
dark rooms of the Fonda, and so camped out for the night in the
government corral beside their wagon.
The following day they made their last march over twenty miles of level
prairie, dotted with flocks and herds, to San Pedro, on the coast. It
was late in the afternoon, and the sun was setting, when, from a slight
eminence, they caught their first glimpse of the gold-tinted Pacific
waters. For a moment they gazed in silence, with hearts too full for
words. Then everybody shook hands with the one nearest to him, and more
than one tear of joyful emotion trickled down the bronzed and
weather-beaten cheeks of the explorers. As for Glen Eddy, he never
expects to be so thrilled again as he was by the sight of that mighty
ocean gleaming in the red light of the setting sun, and marking the end
of the most notable journey of his life.
That night they made their last camp, and gathered about their final
camp-fire. Glen and "Billy" Brackett had shared their blankets ever
since leaving the Rio Grande, and had hardly slept, even beneath a
canvas roof, in all those months. Now, as they lay together for the last
time, on their bed of grassy turf, which is of all beds the one that
brings the sweetest and soundest sleep, and gazed at the stars that had
kept faithful watch above them for so long, they talked in low tones
until a gentle sea-breeze set in and they were lulled to sleep by the
murmur of distant breakers, a music now heard by both of them for the
first time in their lives.
The next day they turned over their sole remaining wagon and their
ambulance to a government quartermaster. Then, having no baggage, they
were ready, without further preparation, to embark on the steamer
_Orizaba_ for San Francisco, to which place General Elting and Binney
Gibbs had gone on, by stage, from Los Angeles, some days before.
As the great ship entered the Golden Gate and steamed up the bay, past
Tamalpias, past the Presidio, past Alcatraz Island, and into the harbor
of San Francisco, Glen Eddy found it hard to realize that it was all
true, and that this young explorer, who was about to set foot in the
city of his most romantic day dreams, was really the boy who had started
from Brimfield ten months before, without an idea of what was before
him.