We pushed on, and succeeded in reaching the trees, which proved to be evergreen oaks, in a little more than an hour, wet to the skin. The little clothing we had brought with us, and packed upon the horses’ backs, was also wet, and our bread reduced to the consistency of paste. We were dispirited, but managed to build a fire beneath the trees, and remained there throughout the day. The rain ceased at nightfall, and making a sorry supper from our wet bread and slimy meat, we stretched ourselves on the ground, wrapped in our blankets, heartily cursing our folly in travelling out of the beaten track with the hopes of rendering ourselves rich and our names immortal. But tired men will sleep even in wet blankets and on muddy ground, and we were half compensated in the morning for our previous day’s adventures and misfortunes by as bright a sunshine and clear a sky as ever broke upon a prairie. Gathering up our provisions, we made a start, for the purpose of reaching, before night set in, a ravine, where we were, according to our directions, to leave the main road and strike for the mountains.
About dusk we reached a dry “arroyo,” which we supposed to be the one indicated on the rough draft of the road we were to travel, given us by the mountaineer who had first impressed our minds with the idea of this expedition. We unpacked, built a roaring fire in the centre of the arroyo, and placing our wet bread and beef in its immediate vicinity, had them soon in a fair way of drying. We lay down again at night, with a bright starlit sky resting peacefully over us, and hoped for an invigorating rest; but California skies in November are not to be trusted, and so we found to our sorrow, for about twelve o’clock we were all turned out by a tremendous shower of rain. We gathered around the expiring fire, and our sorrows for our bodily sufferings were all soon absorbed in the thought that there lay our poor bread and meat, our sole dependence for support, once half dried and now suffering a second soaking. There being no indications of a cessation of the rain, we stretched over our provisions a small tent we had brought with us, and for not having previously pitched which we cursed ourselves heartily, and spent the remainder of the night in sleeplessness and wet.
The tantalizing morning again broke fair, and it was decided to remain where we were throughout the day, and make another attempt at drying our provisions, and at the same time fully decide what to do. Two of the party (myself included) wished either to turn back and try some other part of the “diggins,” or proceed on the main road which we had been travelling, and near which we were then encamped, directly to the Yuba River, at a distance, as we supposed, of about thirty miles. But the go-ahead party was too powerful for us, and, headed by Higgins, a man of the most indomitable perseverance, pictured to us the glorious results we were to achieve. We were to go where the track of the white man was yet unseen, and find in the mountain’s stony heart a home for the winter, with untold riches lying beneath our feet. We yielded, and the next morning at daylight started again, making a straight course for the mountains, lying in a northeasterly direction, and apparently about twenty-five miles distant. And here we were, started on an unknown track, to go among hostile savages, who we knew had already killed our countrymen, our provisions for six consisting of about twenty-five pounds of wet and already moulded hard bread and some miserable jerked beef.
We travelled up the “arroyo” till nearly sunset, when we struck the foot-hills of the mountains. We had seen no foot-tracks, except an occasional naked one of an Indian, and I became fully satisfied that we had taken the wrong “arroyo” as our diverging point. The ground over which we had travelled that day was a miserable stony soil, with here and there a scrubby oak tree growing. As we struck the foot of the mountains the scene was changed. Rich, verdant, and fertile-looking valleys opened out before us, and tall oaks threw a luxuriant, lengthened evening shadow upon the gentle slope of their ascent. We entered the midst of these valleys, and, after proceeding nearly a mile, came to the prettiest camping spot I ever saw. An expansion of the valley formed a circular plain of about a mile in diameter, surrounded on all sides, excepting at its one narrow entrance, with green, tree-covered, and lofty hills. A tall growth of grass and wild oats, interspersed with beautiful blue and yellow autumnal flowers, covered the plain, and meandering through it, with a thousand windings, was a silvery stream, clear as crystal, from which we and our thirsty horses drank our fill, and relished the draught, I believe, better than the gods ever did their nectar. It was a beautiful scene. The sun was just sinking behind the hills on the western side, and threw a golden stream of light on the opposite slope. Birds of gaudy plumage were carolling their thousand varied notes on the tree branches, and I thought if gold and its allurements could be banished from my thoughts, I could come here and live in this little earthly paradise happily for ever.
We selected a gentle slope, beneath a huge rock, near the western hill-side, for our camping ground, and, again building a fire, were about to content ourselves with a supper of mouldy bread, when a jolly son of the Emerald Isle who was one of our party, in diving among the little bags of which our packs consisted, found one of burnt and ground coffee, which we did not know we possessed, and another of sugar, both to be sure a little wet, but nevertheless welcome. Talk of the delights of sipping the decoction of the “brown berry” after a hearty dinner at “Delmonico’s!” That dish of hot coffee, drunk out of my quart tin pot, in which also I had boiled it, was a more luxurious beverage to me than the dew-drops in a new-blown rose could be to a fairy. I slept delightfully under its influence till midnight, when I was called to stand my turn of guard duty, which, as we were in an Indian region, all knew to be necessary; and I, who so often with my sword belted around me, had commanded guard as their officer, watched post with my old rifle for nearly two hours.
The day broke as clear and beautiful upon our enchanting valley as the previous one had closed. After partaking of another pot of hot coffee and some mouldy bread, I took a stroll across the little stream, with my rifle for my companion, while the others, more enthusiastic, started in search of gold. I crossed the plain, and found, at the foot of the hill on the other side, a deserted Indian hut, built of bushes and mud. The fire was still burning on the mud hearth, a few gourds filled with water were lying at the entrance, and an ugly dog was growling near it. Within a few feet of the hut was a little circular mound enclosed with a brush paling. It was an Indian’s grave, and placed in its centre, as a tombstone, was a long stick stained with a red colouring, which also covered the surface of the mound. Some proud chieftain probably rested here, and as the hut bore evident marks of having been very recently deserted, his descendants had without doubt left his bones to moulder there alone, and fled at the sight of the white man.
Leaving this spot, I returned to camp, and, as the gold-hunters had not yet come back, still continued to stroll around it. The top of the rock beneath which we had slept was covered with deep and regularly made holes, like those found in the rocks where rapids of rivers have fallen for centuries and worn them out. It was long before I could account for the existence of these, but finally imagined, what I afterwards found to be the fact, that they were made by the continual pounding of the Indians in mashing their acorns. In the vicinity I observed several groves of a species of white oak (Quercus longiglanda), some of them eight feet in diameter, and at least eighty feet high. This tree is remarkable for the length of its acorns, several that I picked up measuring two inches.
The gold-hunters finally returned, and with elongated countenances reported that, though they had diligently searched every little ravine around our camp, the nearest they could come to gold-finding was some beautiful specimens of mica, which John the Irishman brought in with him, insisting that it was “pure goold.” We camped again in the valley that night, and the next morning held another council as to what we should do and whither we should go. Higgins, as usual, was for going ahead; I was for backing out; and the little party formed itself into two factions, Higgins at the head of one, and I of the other. Mounting the rock, I made not exactly a “stump,” but a “rock” speech, in which, to my own satisfaction, and, as it proved, to that of the majority of the party, I explained the madness of the idea of starting into the mountains on foot, without a guide, and with but about two or three days’ provisions remaining. We had seen but few deer so far, and knew not whether there were any in the mountains. I recommended that we should immediately pack up, and strike what we thought to be the best course for Johnson’s Rancho, on Bear River, about fifteen miles from Yuba. I succeeded, and we packed up and retraced our steps, with somewhat heavy hearts, down the little valley. We left our blessing on the lovely spot, named our camping ground “Camp Beautiful,” and proceeded on our way, following the base of the mountains. There was no road, and we knew not whither we were going, only that we were in the right direction. The country outside of the mountains was miserably poor and barren, the soil being covered with a rocky flint. It is entirely destitute of timber, excepting on the banks of the “arroyos,” which were then dry, and are all skirted with magnificent evergreen oaks. We were travelling in a northwesterly direction, and hoped to reach Bear River at night; coming, however, to a little stream, we camped upon its margin, and the next day started again, refreshed by a good night’s sleep, but dispirited from our ignorance of where we were, or whither we were going, besides being foot-sore from our travel over the flinty pebbles. About noon we saw, at a distance of some three or four miles, an immense flock of what we took to be sheep. Elated at the prospect of being near a rancho, we speedily unpacked a horse, and using the pack lashing for a bridle, I mounted him, and galloped at full speed in the direction of the flock, hoping to find the rancho to which they belonged near them. I approached to within three hundred yards of them before I discovered the mistake under which I had laboured, when the whole herd went bounding away affrighted. What I had taken for a flock of sheep was a herd of antelopes, containing, I should suppose, nearly a thousand, and for a supper of one of which I would have freely given a month’s anticipated labour in the gold mines. I returned to the party, and dampened their already disheartened spirits by my report.
We travelled on slowly, for we were wearied and heartsick, and at about four o’clock in the afternoon, having traversed a very circuitous route, the horses were unpacked and the small quantity of remaining provisions put in our pockets. Higgins, the owner of one of the horses, mounted his, and John the Irishman, who was suffering with a rheumatic complaint, the other. I was so weary and weak that I could scarcely support myself, and my feet were so covered with blisters, and so swollen, that every step I took seemed like treading on sharpened spikes. How I wished myself back in “Camp Beautiful,”—in Texas—anywhere but where I was. I was lagging behind the party, when John, turning round, saw me, and stopped his horse; as I came up to him he dismounted and forced me to take his place. God bless thee! generous Irishman. Beneath a rough exterior he had a heart which beat with feelings and emotions to which many a proud bosom is a stranger. How I loaded him with thanks, and only received his unsophisticated reply, that I “was tireder than he was.” About dark we struck a stream of water, and all but Higgins were ready and glad to camp and eat the last remains of the mouldy bread and beef. The persevering energy of Higgins had not in the least degree failed him, and without getting off his horse, he bade us “good-bye,” and assured us that he would never return till he had found Johnson’s Rancho. He left us: we built up a good fire, and about three hours afterward, while speculating on his return, he came dashing into camp with about a dozen pounds of fresh beef, some bread, and a bottle of fine old brandy. We welcomed him as we would an angel visitant. My distaste for his desperation changed into an admiration for his energy. It seems he had found a road about forty yards from our camp, and a ride of five miles had brought him to Johnson’s Rancho. We made a good supper of beef and bread, and revived our fainting spirits with the brandy, and in the fulness of our hearts unanimously voted Higgins excused from guard duty for that night. Next morning, light-hearted and happy, we started for the rancho, and crossing Bear River, on which it is situated, reached there about ten o’clock. Johnson is an American, who many years since obtained a large grant of fertile land on Bear River, and has been living here for years within fifteen miles of a stream whose banks and bed were filled with incalculable riches.
We procured some provisions here, and started for the Yuba, and without any mishaps reached the camping ground, about three miles from the river, early in the afternoon. We camped, and Higgins and myself started on a hunting expedition, for the purpose of getting some game for supper. We made our way into the hills, and were travelling slowly, trailing our rifles, when we stopped suddenly, dumbfounded, before two of the most curious and uncouth-looking objects that ever crossed my sight. They were two Indian women, engaged in gathering acorns. They were entirely naked, with the exception of a coyote skin extending from the waists to the knees. Their heads were shaved, and the tops of them covered with a black tarry paint, and a huge pair of military whiskers were daubed on their cheeks with the same article. They had with them two conical-shaped wicker baskets, in which they were placing the acorns, which were scattered ankle deep around them. Higgins, with more gallantry than myself, essayed a conversation with them, but made a signal failure, as after listening to a few sentences in Spanish and English, they seized their acorn baskets and ran. The glimpse we had taken of these mountain beauties, and our failure to enter into any conversation with them, determined us to pay a visit to their headquarters, which we knew were near by. Watching their footsteps in their rapid flight, we saw them, after descending a hill, turn up a ravine, and disappear. We followed in the direction which they had taken, and soon reached the Indian rancheria. It was located on both sides of a deep ravine, across which was thrown a large log as a bridge, and consisted of about twenty circular wigwams, built of brush, plastered with mud, and capable of containing three or four persons. As we entered, we observed our flying beauties, seated on the ground, pounding acorns on a large rock indented with holes similar to those which so puzzled me at “Camp Beautiful.” We were suddenly surrounded upon our entrance by thirty or forty male Indians, entirely naked, who had their bows and quivers slung over their shoulders, and who stared most suspiciously at us and our rifles. Finding one of them who spoke Spanish, I entered into a conversation with him—told him we had only come to pay a visit to the rancheria, and, as a token of peace offering, gave him about two pounds of musty bread and some tobacco which I happened to have in my game-bag. This pleased him highly, and from that moment till we left, Pule-u-le, as he informed me his name was, appeared my most intimate and sworn friend. I apologized to him for the unfortunate fright which we had caused a portion of his household, and assured him that no harm was intended, as I entertained the greatest respect for the ladies of his tribe, whom I considered far superior in point of ornament, taste, and natural beauty to those of any other race of Indians in the country. Pule-u-le exhibited to me the interior of several of the wigwams, which were nicely thatched with sprigs of pine and cypress, while a matting of the same material covered the bottom. During our presence our two female attractions had retired into one of the wigwams, into which Pule-u-le piloted us, where I found some four or five squaws similarly bepitched and clothed, and who appeared exceedingly frightened at our entrance. But Pule-u-le explained that we were friends, and mentioned the high estimation in which I held them, which so pleased them that one of the runaways left the wigwam and soon brought me in a large piece of bread made of acorns, which to my taste was of a much more excellent flavour than musty hard bread.