Hardly had Radke resumed his normal state, when Frech caused another sensation by announcing that he had found an ax. He placed it in evidence, and his active brain began immediately to cast a halo of romance about it. He asserted with much earnestness (and Frech can be very earnest) that it was his belief that the ax was a relic of the Donner party, who perished in the neighborhood many years ago. Noticing how serious he was, they all concluded, after a very grave and critical examination, that it was a real curio. He clung to the ax lovingly, saying he would take it back to Frisco, and have some razors made out of the blade. Becoming enthusiastic over his find, he at once developed into a confirmed curio fiend, and was constantly finding other articles which he declared were relics of the “days of ’49.” With right good will his comrades aided and abetted him in his search. Things that had long since been cast away as worn out or useless, and, having fulfilled their humble offices to mankind, lay upon the face of mother earth, calmly awaiting the end of all things, suddenly leaped into a new and transitory value, and soon Frech was laden with an assorted collection of oyster cans, old shoes, bottles, etc. As each new find was made he discarded one of the old ones, insisting that the last find was always the best. When he reached camp, all that he had left was his ax, and the skeleton of an old pack-saddle found on the banks of the Truckee.
Lieutenant Lundquist suggested that they continue their tramp till a view of Donner lake could be obtained; so, like a bevy of seminary girls out with their chaperone, the lieutenant and his men went merrily on their way. They were traveling through what was once, apparently, the pathless forest, for all around them were the charred stumps of trees. The strong and relentless hand of man had spread destruction and death among the giants of the forest. But even here, where the nymph of the wood might well weep for the leafy shades that were no more, contrasting with the gruesome spectacle of destruction, the eye was gladdened with the sight of new, lusty, glorious life. In the intervening spaces young trees were putting forth their slender branches, the green foliage rustling and waving in the gentle summer breezes.
George Claussenius remarked that the majority of the trees were firs, and that the balsam extracted was worth $20.00 a quart. At this Dick Radke pricked up his ears, and looked at the trees with renewed interest. Clifford took exception to the conclusions of Claussenius as to the identity of the trees, and insisted they were spruce. Every once in a while they would stop before some young sapling, and argue in a most learned manner as to its variety. One listening to them would imagine they were members of the State Board of Forestry. The others, not wishing to display their ignorance, never ventured an opinion till Lundquist, realizing that these gentry were as much at sea as to the identity of the trees as the rest were, put up a job on them. He got the others to promise they would coincide with him, and then, with all the confidence of one able to judge, he proclaimed them apple trees. True to their promise they all agreed with the lieutenant. Clifford and Claussenius wasted much breath in trying to show them that they erred in their conclusions.
Meanwhile Radke had wandered away by himself. As he progressed he gave every tree he met the closest scrutiny. “Twenty dollars a quart! twenty dollars a quart! if I could only run across a fir tree that was spouting balsam, why it would be better than a gold mine; my fortune would be made.” A yell of joy apprised the boys that Radke had surely struck a bonanza this time. When they reached his side they found him with his hands full of a sticky substance, and, with a look of triumph on his face, he invited all hands to help themselves to balsam. “Balsam!” said Clifford, “Balsam! why, what are you talking about? that’s pitch.” And so it proved to be.
They resumed their journey, and in due course of time reached an eminence, from which they beheld Donner lake. The scene was a beautiful one, and well repaid them for their journey. The lovely body of water lay calm and serene, reflecting the sun’s rays like a sheet of silver. Precipitous mountains rose on all sides of it; to the left, for miles along the sides of the mountains, the eye could trace the snowsheds. Considerable time was spent in contemplating the beauties of nature, and it was with reluctance that they finally turned their faces toward the camp. They descended the hill on the side leading down to the Truckee river, and, when they reached its banks, discovered Bob Williams making his way down the river on the logs that covered its surface to the sawmill about a mile away; this easy and direct way of reaching camp appealed to the eye of our easy lieutenant at once, and soon they were all hopping from log to log, and in a short time reached the mill without accident of any kind, then slowly retraced their steps to camp, all agreeing that they had a most enjoyable tramp.
The relieved squads that daily returned from the different posts brought with them moving tales of flood and field. The squad, composed of Corporal McCulloch, and privates A. Fetz, A. Gehret, and F. Sindler, had relieved a similar number of Company A’s men at Post 24. No sooner had the train left, than the learned corporal pounced upon the rations that were to keep the wolf from the door for the next twenty-four hours. A wail of anguish arose from him as the provender was exposed to view; no sugar, no milk, no butter, three “measly” steaks, a small quantity of beans, a smaller quantity of rice, about a pound of coffee, a small piece of bacon, and two loaves of bread. Ye gods! what had he done? He called upon all the great divinities of heaven to bear witness to his just and honorable career, a life spent in gathering a mass of learning, that, rarified by the fires of his poetic soul, was in the future to cast its electrical and beneficent rays upon the sons of men. How could they expect him to continue on the long and wearisome road to glory, the uncertain and treacherous pathways that lead to fame, to efficiently fill the exalted position for which he was ordained, if the springs of his young life were to be warped and dried up by the lack of sufficient nourishment.
While thus bewailing his sad fate, and comparing their unhappy lot with that of the men at the other posts, who were living on the fat of the land, they entered the lowly cabin that was to afford them shelter, when lo! and behold! there before his wondering eyes were sugar, pepper and salt, two potatoes, the gods be praised, one carrot, and a piece of bacon. Here, indeed, was a miracle; the gods were not unmindful; their faithful servant was not to be left to starve in the wilderness; these edibles were surely placed there by divine hands, for had not A’s men just left, and were they ever known to leave any thing behind them? Overcome by this revelation of the justice and goodness of an all-seeing Providence, the learned corporal reverently removed his cap, and with upraised eyes, that seemed, from the glad and holy light that shone from them, to be contemplating heavenly scenes, silently gave thanks to his Creator.
The men, like others stationed there before them, were enchanted with their surroundings. The corporal, however, did not enchant until he had inquired into the cooking abilities of his command. He, after a careful consideration of their qualifications, appointed Al Gehret cook. This momentous subject off his mind, he went forth into the sunshine and began to rave about the mountains that reared their solid bastions to the sky, declaring that a being must be indeed callous, who, when cut off from the rest of the world, and alone in nature’s mighty solitude, did not feel the omnipotence of the Creator.
In appointing Al Gehret cook, the learned Corporal had made no mistake, (how could he) for Al proved himself to be very capable; he so ably manipulated the provisions placed in his charge that one and all sang his praises. But the look of contentment and pleasure that came over the faces of his boarders as each delicious morsel disappeared through their lips into the cavernous depths below brought more joy to Al than all the encomiums which could be heaped upon him. So intent was he in watching their joyous emotions that he forgot to eat himself, and the others were so absorbed in the enjoyment of the fare, that they failed to take notice of his forgetfulness. No high salaried chef contemplated with more pride the results of his skill than Al the results of his labors. The potato soup he concocted made the corporal, whose weakness is soup, his lifelong friend.
McCulloch, Fetz, and Sindler now vied with each other to perform some special feat that would render them envied by the rest. McCulloch, while wandering along the bank of the river, with the intention of baiting the wary trout, on springing from one rock to another, lost his footing and was precipitated head first into the cold stream. Withdrawing himself hurriedly out of the water, he hastened back to the cabin, where the others were gathered, and, showing them his dripping clothes, dared them to do some thing that would rival his adventure. The wet clothes were discarded and laid out in the sun to dry, while the corporal, picturesquely draped in an army blanket, squatted all the afternoon in the sun, like a Digger Indian. Both Sindler and Fetz took up the challenge. Sindler started out with line and hook, determined to catch a string of trout, that would lie for itself, and forever make him famous. He fished and fished until the gathering twilight warned him it was time to return. He quietly stole back into camp, with but three fish to show for his efforts, a humbled and heartbroken man. Not so with Fetz, who after a long absence returned to camp, proclaimed his name to be Fetz, and that he was the only man in the crowd that had stood in Nevada. For this he claimed the honor of having performed the greatest feat. This was the subject of a prolonged and undecided argument between himself and McCulloch, which is renewed whenever they meet. The relations of the boys had become so harmonious, and their environment so pleasing to them, that Fetz, the following morning, declared that he would be satisfied to stop where they were another twenty-four hours; but McCulloch, casting a side glance at their depleted larder, said that, under the circumstances, he thought he would rather return. Not that he appreciated their company less, they were all good fellows, or their beautiful surroundings, but there were other claims more strong that made him yearn once more to return to Truckee, and the bosom of the company. So they packed their little belongings, and awaited the train which was to bear them back to camp.