In half an hour the advocate gently opened the door again.
"Your opinion, gentlemen?"
"Guilty!"
"Correct! you can come out. We hung him an hour ago!"
The jury took their drinks, and when, after a few minutes, the pleasant village returned to its former tranquility, it was "allowed" at more than one saloon that "Mexicans'll know enough to let white men's stock alone after this." One and another exchanged the belief that this sort of thing was more sensible than "nipping 'em on sight."
When, before sunset, the bar-keeper concluded to sweep some dust out of his poker-room back-door, he felt a momentary surprise at finding the missing horse dozing under the shadow of an oak, and the two lost donkeys serenely masticating playing-cards, of which many bushels lay in a dirty pile. He was then reminded that the animals had been there all day!
Lovelocks (Nevada) is three hundred and eighty-nine miles from San Francisco, and its elevation above the sea-level three thousand nine hundred and seventy-seven feet. It is simply a station, with a few buildings connected with the Central Pacific Railroad; but is a fine grazing region, and large herds of cattle are fattened here upon the rich native grasses. There is quite a settlement of farmers near Lovelocks. Before the railroad came the pasture lands were renowned among the emigrants, who recruited their stock after the wearisome journey across the plains.
Leaving Lovelocks, Captain Glazier soon found himself again on the barren desert. A side track of the railroad, named White Plains, gave him rest for the night. The spot is surrounded by a white alkali desert, covered in places with salt and alkali deposits. Hot Springs is another station in the midst of the desert, and is so named from the hot springs whose rising steam can be seen about half a mile from the station.
Hastening forward he reached Desert (Nevada), which he found to be three hundred and thirty-five miles from San Francisco, and that the place is rightly named. The winds that sweep the barren plains here, heap the sand around the scattered sage brush till they resemble huge potato hills—a most dreary place.
The captain found it quite a relief on reaching Wadsworth (Nevada), a town of about five hundred souls, and three hundred and twenty-eight miles from the end of his journey. It has several large stores, Chinamen's houses, and hotels, in one of the latter of which he found refreshment and a bed. His route had been for several days across dreary, monotonous plains, with nothing but black desolation around him. Another world now opened to his view—a world of beauty, grandeur and sublimity. Reluctantly leaving this agreeable place, he crossed the Truckee River, and gazed with delightful sensations upon the trees, the green meadows, comfortable farm-houses and well-tilled fields of the ranches, as he rode forward.