After my brother's departure, the deputy sheriff removed one of the hand-cuffs from my wrist, fastened it on his own, and got in bed with me, Hathaway and Powell, the proprietors of the house, standing guard. Shortly after Breen retired I dropped off asleep. I had slept for some time when I heard Hathaway call to Breen in an undertone:
"Wake up, Nick, they are coming!"
I immediately awoke my sleeping bed-fellow, who, jumping up, listened for a moment. Breen stopped to listen again, when Hathaway exclaimed, "For God's sake, Nick, hurry up; they are right here!" Hathaway was white as a sheet, and held a double-barreled shot-gun in his hands in a determined manner, while Breen hastily picked up his pants from the floor, took out the key of the hand-cuffs, and taking me by my extended wrist, loosened it (it seemed an age, while he was feeling in his pocket for the key). At this instant I heard the fiends for the first time. They were then about one hundred yards from the house. I hurriedly put on my pants, shoes and vest, and catching up my coat, I made a hasty exit out of the back door. As I did so, a terrible shout went up from the throats of the mob, which sounded like the yells of devils from the lower regions, and I thought they had discovered me as I passed out of the door. As soon as I reached the open air I got down on my hands and knees and crawled very softly about fifty yards from the house, when I stopped and put my ear to the ground to see if they were yet on my track. The fog was very thick; one could not see three yards ahead. I listened for a second; then taking off my shoes to prevent making a noise, and putting on my coat, I crawled about one thousand yards. I then stopped to think what was best for me to do to outwit those seeking my life. I argued to myself that it was best to tack back toward Merced, as the mob would be apt to pursue me northward and eastward that night. They would imagine, so I thought, that I would flee before them and strike for the Merced river; so I concluded to go where they would least expect to find me. I would return and strike Bear Creek, which has very high banks and a narrow channel, but which at that time contained no water. If I could reach the creek (which was some seven miles off) before day-break, I knew I would be safe for one day, at least, provided I was very cautious. With this resolution formed, I listened for a few seconds, and hearing nothing, I started to make a semi-circle of the Half-Way House in order to get on the other side of it. By a bright light which the fog magnified to at least ten times its size, which kept moving to and fro in and around the Half Way-House, which was either a torch or a lantern, I knew that the blood-thirsty crew were searching under the porch and in the out-houses for me. I had not proceeded a quarter of a mile after taking my resolve to get between the mob and Merced, when I came to the road leading from the above houses to Cox's Ferry. I stopped and listened for a second and peered through the fog, which was growing denser and more dense as the night advanced, but could discern nothing but the bright light before mentioned, which I was utilizing as a guide to travel by. I then crossed the road; I had no sooner done so than I discovered two horsemen going toward Snelling. I fell flat on my face, scarcely daring to breathe, and they passed on without discovering me. While lying down I watched them attentively to see if they suspected their close proximity to me, as they were riding at that moment very slow, and were apparently on the alert for any sound which might possibly reach their ears. I saw several more horsemen, but luckily they did not see me before I had accomplished the semi-circle around the Half-Way House; but after accomplishing that manœuvre, I saw no one again that night, as I kept away from the roads, and was not under the necessity of crossing any more. When about four miles from Merced, I altered my course slightly with the intention of striking Bear Creek; about one or two miles below town; but losing my reckoning, I reached the creek about five hundred yards from the bridge.
It was now near daylight, and the fog was impenetrable to the eye, or at least all objects moving in it at a greater distance than fifty yards. Having reached the creek, and put on my shoes (having walked all the way from the Half-Way House in my stocking feet), I proceeded up. By daylight I was opposite the County Hospital Farm, situated northeast of town. I cautiously passed beyond it, and as there was a road running on each side of the creek at this point, I scrambled up its banks and struck out toward the foot-hills, knowing that I would not be apt to encounter the mob off from a road, within a circle of five miles from Merced. I commenced to walk around a section of land which was marked by a furrow, and which I think belonged to Upton. I had to keep walking to keep from freezing.
I was now about two miles from the Hospital grounds the hour about nine o'clock a. m., and up to this time I had only halted once, then for only a second to put on my shoes. I was sick, tired, thirsty, and commenced to feel hungry. I sat down for awhile to rest. I was very weak and emaciated from a severe attack of bloody flux, from which I had suffered several days prior to the shooting, and which continued during the first two days of my wandering. My mouth was dry and parched; there was no water to be seen; I looked at the grass; the fog had made it damp; I will try to suck the dampness I thought; as I was preparing to do so, to my horror I discovered that my jaws were locked. I had doubtless clasped them firmly the night before, determined to escape, and in my eagerness had not opened my mouth; and that, together with the cold and thirst, had fastened them vise-like. I rubbed and worked nervously for several minutes; then I bethought me of my printer rule which was luckily in my vest pocket. With this I succeeded in prying my jaws apart, and with a few crumbs of tobacco which I found in my pants' pocket, I found relief. I then resumed my walk; would walk around the section and return to my starting point; alternately walking a mile and resting for a half hour, thus I passed some three hours.
About noon the fog exhibited indications of clearing off, and I thought it best to hunt the shelter of some friendly creek, for the double purpose of screening myself from view and quenching my thirst, which was becoming almost unbearable. Sick and hungry, I started in quest of Bear Creek; and after traveling about an hour, I realized the fact that I had become lost in the fog. Previous to this discovery, I had passed within sight of several houses, but not knowing all the inhuman wretches who were hunting me down, I durst not apply within for food, and shelter from the cold, chilling fog, for fear of encountering some one in sympathy with the mob, if not one of the actual participants. Upon finding that I was lost, I began to blame myself for not going boldly into one of the several farm houses, making myself known, requesting food and a conveyance to Fresno or Modesto, to deliver myself up to a sheriff who was not an actual participant in the mob, much less in sympathy with the same.
But I kept up my courage, and tried to discover my bearings. I thought I must be somewhere near Mariposa Creek; so trudging along for about two hours longer, I found that I had guessed rightly, and I struck the above mentioned creek about a mile or two north of the railroad crossing, and knew my whereabouts to a certainty. I clambered down its steep banks on one side and up on the other, when I espied a man about one hundred yards distant, armed with a rifle. Although the fog still continued to hang over the valley, I was fearful lest he had seen me. Immediately upon sighting him, I couched down in the tall grass, which grew quite rank on the banks of the creek at this particular spot, and cautiously raised my head to see if I had been discovered; as I did so, I perceived he had seen me. He was about sixty or eighty yards off, was standing with his face toward me, and had just made a movement to approach my hiding place, when with a sudden impulse I seized a long shovel handle (which I had picked up early in the morning, for use as a walking stick), and lying flat on my stomach, brought it to bear on the man. My ruse was successful. He evidently took the harmless weapon for a rifle, and immediately disappeared in the fog, going up the creek.
This man, whoever he was, no doubt, thinks to this day, that some one took him for Granice, and that he ran a narrow risk of being shot—with a shovel handle. As I said before, he took up the creek, and I proceeded down, and about four o'clock I struck the railroad crossing seven or eight miles from Merced. Still keeping on the north side of the track, I proceeded toward that town, being careful to keep away from the roads.
After proceeding two or three miles, I concluded to get on the other side of the track; and with that object in view, tried to catch a view of the telegraph poles, in order to find the track; in a few minutes I discovered them. In order to change my position to the other side of the track, I would have to cross two roads, one on each side, which was a dangerous undertaking so near Merced, in the day time. But the fog gave me courage, and I started. I had just crossed over the track, meantime keeping my eyes on all sides of me, when I discovered a man riding along toward Merced. I immediately dropped flat, and he rode past, all unconscious of my near presence. This fellow, I should judge from his paraphernalia—consisting of six shooter, bowie knife and gun—was one of the brave crowd whom I encountered the preceding night at the Half-Way House. The horse was completely fagged out, and his rider was evidently returning to Merced for a fresh movement. I know you, sir; I saw you, but you did not me. After the outlines of horse and rider faded away in the foggy mist, I hurriedly walked about a half mile from the railroad, intending to lay in one of the many little hollows thereabouts and await the coming of dark.
It was now about half past four. Up to this time I had not had a drop of water, although I had hunted for it in creeks and "hog wallows." The cravings of appetite did not bother me much—my thirst was too keen. Arriving at the point just mentioned, I discovered a pool of muddy water, and getting on my hands and knees, I proceeded to slake my thirst. I took one swallow, and it burnt my throat like molten lead. It was alkali water, and the strongest I ever tasted. It was a bitter disappointment, but it was near night; I was but a few miles from town, and under the cover of darkness I could get water and maybe something to eat.