All troubles must end. Ours ended when the animals gave out for want of breath. Upon picking up our scattered regiment, with all arms and equipments used in the melee, we found the result as follows: Dead, none; wounded by kicks, scratches, sprains, and bruises, six; mortally frightened, the whole party, inclusive of our captain; lost, a keg of whisky, which some say went down to Lake Valley; but I have my suspicions where that keg went, and how it was secreted.
From this point over the summit we met several more pack trains, and had an occasional tumble in the snow. Nothing more serious occurred. It was quite dark as we commenced our descent. The road here was a running stream of mud, obstructed by slippery rocks, ruts, stumps, and dead animals. It was a marvel to me how we ever reached the bottom without broken bones. My horse stumbled about every hundred yards, but never fell more than three quarters down. Somehow people rarely get killed in this country, unless shot by revolvers or bad whisky.
CHAPTER IX.
ARRIVAL IN SAN FRANCISCO.
The crowds were thicker than ever at Strawberry. From all accounts the excitement had only just commenced. Five thousand were represented to be on the road from the various diggings throughout California. I had bargained for a bed, and was enjoying the idea of a good supper—the savory odor of which came through the cracks of the bar-room door—when our captain announced that he could get no feed for his animals, and we must ride on to "Dick's," fourteen miles more. This was pretty tough on a sick man. The ride since morning had been quite hard enough to try the strength and temper of a well man; but add fourteen miles to that, of a dark night and raining into the bargain, and the sum total is not agreeable. It was useless to remonstrate. The captain was inflexible. He could not see his horses starve. One was just giving his last kick, and three more were about to "go in." I might stay if I pleased, suggested the captain, but the horses must go on. As I had paid thirty dollars for the ride, and had barely enough left to get to San Francisco, there was no alternative but to mount. By this time three of the party were so ill as to be scarcely able to sit in their saddles.
It is wonderful how much one can endure when there is nobody at hand to care a pin whether he lives or dies. I rather incline to the opinion that many people in this world die from the kindness and sympathy of friends, who, if thrown upon their own resources, would weather it out.
I have an impressive recollection of the fourteen miles from Strawberry to "Dick's." My horse, Guyascutas, broke down about half way. The rest of the party pushed on. About the same time the old torture of rheumatism and neuralgia assailed me in full force. It was pitch dark. There was no stopping-place nearer than "Dick's." The weather was cold, and a drenching rain had now penetrated my clothes to the skin.
A distinct recollection of my feelings a month ago, as I tramped along over this road with my pack on my back, afforded me ample material for philosophical reflection. Was it now somebody else—some decrepit old fogy who had lost his all, and had nothing more to expect in this world? Or could it possibly be the glowing enthusiast, just freed from the trammels of office, and inspired by visions of mountain life, liberty, and wealth? If it was the same—and there could hardly be any mistake about it, unless some mysterious translation of the spirit into some other body had taken place at Virginia Creek—the visions of mountain life, liberty, and unbounded riches were certainly of a very different character.
In addition to the peculiarity in the hind-quarters of Guyascutas, which caused him always to make two trails at the same time, I had now reason to suspect that he was entirely blind of one eye, and afflicted with a cataract on the other. Every hundred yards or so he walked off the road, and brought up in some deep cavity or against a pile of rocks. The mud in many places was up to his haunches, and if there was a comparatively dry spot any where in existence, he was sure to avoid it. I think he disliked me on account of the spurring I gave him on the Grade, and wanted to get rid of me in some way; or perhaps he considered his own course of life beyond farther endurance.