On the side I was on was an old race about eighteen feet wide, through which the waters rushed rapidly past. A pile of rocks prevented the boat from crossing this, so there was nothing for it but to wade. Some stones had been thrown in, forming a sort of submarine stepping-stones, and lessening the depth to about three feet; but they were smooth and slippery, and the water was so intensely cold, and the current so strong, that I found the long pole which the man told me to take a very necessary assistance in making the passage. On reaching the canoes, and being duly enjoined to be careful in getting in and to keep perfectly still, we crossed the main body of the river; and very ticklish work it was, for the waves ran high, and the utmost care was required to avoid being swamped. We got across safe enough, when my friend put me under additional obligations by producing a bottle of brandy from his tent and asking me to “liquor,” which I did with a great deal of pleasure, as the water was still gurgling and squeaking in my boots, and was so cold that I felt as if I were half immersed in ice-cream.
After climbing the steep mountain side and walking a few miles farther, I arrived at Moquelumne Hill, having, in the course of my day’s journey, gradually passed from the pine-tree country into such scenery as I have already described as characterizing the southern mines.
I went on the next morning to San Andres by a road which wound through beautiful little valleys, still fresh and green, and covered with large patches of flowers. In one long gulch through which I passed, about two hundred Chilians were at work washing the dirt, panful by panful, in their large flat wooden dishes. This is a very tedious process, and a most unprofitable expenditure of labor; but Mexicans, Chilians, and other Spanish Americans, most obstinately adhered to their old-fashioned primitive style, although they had the example before them of all the rest of the world continually making improvements in the method of abstracting the gold, whereby time was saved and labor rendered tenfold more effective.
I soon after met a troop of forty or fifty Indians galloping along the road, most of them riding double—the gentlemen having their squaws seated behind them. They were dressed in the most grotesque style, and the clothing seemed to be pretty generally diffused throughout the crowd. One man wore a coat, another had the remains of a shirt and one boot, while another was fully equipped in an old hat and a waistcoat: but the most conspicuous and generally worn articles of costume were the colored cotton handkerchiefs with which they bandaged up their heads. As they passed they looked down upon me with an air of patronizing condescension, saluting me with the usual “wally wally,” in just such a tone that I could imagine them saying to themselves at the same time, “Poor devil! he’s only a white man.”
They all had their bows and arrows, and some were armed besides with old guns and rifles, but they were doubtless only going to pay a friendly visit to some neighboring tribe. They were evidently anticipating a pleasant time, for I never before saw Indians exhibiting such boisterous good humor.
A few miles in from San Andres I crossed the Calaveras, which is here a wide river, though not very deep. There was neither bridge nor ferry, but fortunately some Mexicans had camped with a train of pack-mules not far from the place, and from them I got an animal to take me across.
CHAPTER XXI
IN LIGHTER MOOD
IF one can imagine the booths and penny theaters on a race-course left for a year or two till they are tattered and torn, and blackened with the weather, he will have some idea of the appearance of San Andres. It was certainly the most out-at-elbows and disorderly looking camp I had yet seen in the country.
The only wooden house was the San Andres Hotel, and here I took up my quarters. It was kept by a Missourian doctor, and being the only establishment of the kind in the place, was quite full. We sat down forty or fifty at the table-d’hôte.
The Mexicans formed by far the most numerous part of the population. The streets—for there were two streets at right angles to each other—and the gambling-rooms were crowded with them, loafing about in their blankets doing nothing. There were three gambling-rooms in the village, all within a few steps of each other, and in each of them was a Mexican band playing guitars, harps and flutes. Of course, one heard them all three at once, and as each played a different tune, the effect, as may be supposed, was very pleasing.