Thus mounted, a party of fifteen or twenty will approach a herd of cattle, horses, or elk, as the case may be. As they approach the herd takes fright, one snorts and starts, which is a signal for all, and they dash away. The horsemen, each selecting his victim, now bear down upon them with the speed of lightning. The herd, now aware of their pursuit, redouble

their energies, straining every nerve, the earth fairly quaking beneath their hoofs. The horses, as they near, display as much enthusiasm as their riders, and seem to scorn the very earth. They are now upon them. The herd, frantic and dismayed, begin to scatter. The horse now sees his victim and bounds with the most reckless impetuosity. The horseman, now rising in his saddle, throws his weight into the left stirrup, and with his right hand swings the lasso until the coil is sufficiently open, when it flies with the velocity and precision of an arrow, taking effect around the horns or neck of the victim. The horse, understanding the business, now slackens his speed, and prepares for the first shock, by taking a bracing position. The victim straitens the lasso, bounds into the air, and falls to the ground. The horseman dismounts, keeping his left foot in the stirrup, to help counteract the frantic throes of the victim which is now lacerated by balls from his pistols. Sometimes in its phrenzy of madness the victim rushes upon his pursuers, causing a precipitate retreat, and not unfrequently both horse and rider fall victims to their own temerity.

As our team had not yet arrived, we walked on one mile to Grime’s fort, a similar structure, and I believe the owner is a claimant of Sutter’s claim. We walked on to the river, prepared ourselves and waded through. On the opposite side, as we ascended the bank, we found ourselves on the margin of a plain, stretching away as far as the eye could reach, with nothing but an occasional oak to relieve the monotony. On the bank, a short distance above, is a rancho, to which belongs the ferry, used only during high water. This rancho belongs to the Sutter estate. There are several thousand head of cattle and horses belonging to it, and about two hundred head of Indians. The soil has the appearance of being extremely fertile, but at this time vegetation was parched with drought. Sutter claims most of the country drained by the Sacramento and its branches, which is all, of any agricultural value, in the north part of the State.

Our team soon came up, and our driver informed us that it was ten miles to the next water, consequently we were obliged to encamp on the bank of the river, notwithstanding it was only 3 o’clock, P.M. We had averaged one mile per hour. I loaded my rifle and went down the river to hunt; I had promised myself a supper of wild duck, but they proved to be, on that particular day, all crows, and I compensated myself in part by picking a quantity of grapes. These were put into our camp-kettle and served up for supper. We thought them delicious, but the next morning, to our regret, we learned that we had forgotten to sweeten them. Late in the afternoon, a party of Indians started, fully equipped, to lasso horses, that were herding on the bottom lands of the Sacramento, six miles distant. They rode at the top of their speed, the horse and rider seeming moved by the same impulse. At night we spread our blankets in the open air. Some one of the party had been throwing out insinuations reflecting upon the character of the grizzly bear, that were said to abound in our immediate vicinity; not only that they were in the habit of “running around nights,” but that they had a tendency to cannibalism. One of the party took a particular fancy to my rifle; whether it was the beauty of the piece, his predilection for the owner, or the fiery appearance of the cap, that stole his affections, I am not prepared to say. He folded it in his blanket and seemed to sleep the better for it. Soon after dark the California serenade commenced. The performers being two packs of wolves, the prairie (coyotas) and large gray wolf, each carrying a part, and in the latter were incorporated some of the best alto voices I ever heard. We were aroused early in the morning by a member of the above choir, who passed over the foot of our bed.

After breakfast we filled our flasks with water from the river and started. Our team travelled in a cloud of dust which hid them from our view. We moved on in advance. The day was excessively hot, and we were obliged to stop often for our team, in order to refill our flasks. After traveling five miles we overtook an ox-team loaded, and several mules packed, on the way to the mines. (See Plate). There were also several teams in the distance, moving in the same direction. We soon saw three men mounted on mules, coming toward us, who appeared to be returning from the mines. They were in high spirits, galloping along a little off the main track. One of them, in order, probably, to show a proper respect, pulled out his revolver and fired. His mule, taking the cue from his master, wishing to

make a proper demonstration in the presence of his fellow mules, gave a few peculiar gyrations with his tail, threw his head up, then threw it down, and threw his heels up, and at this particular time his master threw his heels up, and they parted company. It would be difficult to imagine a position more humble than the one assumed by the above mentioned master. He was literally with his face in the dust, and I never saw a more peculiar cast of countenance. If I had not seen the above transaction, but had met him with the same expression of countenance, I should have thought he had stolen the mule he was on, or would steal one if he had an opportunity. He didn’t give us his card, but hurried on in the direction of Sacramento city.