The water in the Merced had fallen some during the night, but the stream was still in appearance a raging torrent. As we were about to cross, our guide with earnest gesticulations asserted that the water was too deep to cross, that if we attempted it, we would be swept down into the cañon. That later, we could cross without difficulty. These assertions angered the Major, and he told the guide that he lied; for he knew that later in the day the snow would melt. Turning to Captain Boling he said: “I am now positive that the Indians are in the vicinity, and for that reason the guide would deceive us.” Telling the young Indian to remain near his person, he gave the order to cross at once.
The ford was found to be rocky; but we passed over it without serious difficulty, although several repeated their morning ablutions while stumbling over the boulders.
The open ground on the north side was found free from snow. The trail led toward “El Capitan,” which had from the first, been the particular object of my admiration.
At this time no distinctive names were known by which to designate the cliffs, waterfalls, or any of the especial objects of interest, and the imaginations of some ran wild in search of appropriate ones. None had any but a limited idea of the height of this cliff, and but few appeared conscious of the vastness of the granite wall before us; although an occasional ejaculation betrayed the feelings which the imperfect comprehension of the grand and wonderful excited. A few of us remarked upon the great length of time required to pass it, and by so doing, probably arrived at more or less correct conclusions regarding its size.
Soon after we crossed the ford, smoke was seen to issue from a cluster of manzanita shrubs that commanded a view of the trail. On examination, the smoking brands indicated that it had been a picket fire, and we now felt assured that our presence was known and our movements watched by the vigilant Indians we were hoping to find. Moving rapidly on, we discovered near the base of El Capitan, quite a large collection of Indian huts, situated near Pigeon creek. On making a hasty examination of the village and vicinity, no Indians could be found, but from the generally undisturbed condition of things usually found in an Indian camp, it was evident that the occupants had but recently left; appearances indicated that some of the wigwams or huts had been occupied during the night. Not far from the camp, upon posts, rocks, and in trees, was a large caché of acorns and other provisions.
HOUSEWORTH & CO. PHOTO.
HALF DOME.
(4,737 feet in height.)
As the trail showed that it had been used by Indians going up, but a short halt was made. As we moved on, a smoke was again seen in the distance, and some of the more eager ones dashed ahead of the column, but as we reached the ford to which we were led by the main trail leading to the right, our dashing cavaliers rejoined us and again took their places. These men reported that “fallen rocks” had prevented their passage up on the north side, and that our only course was to cross at the ford and follow the trail, as the low lands appeared too wet for rapid riding. Recrossing the Merced to the south-side, we found trails leading both up and down the river. A detachment was sent down to reconnoitre the open land below, while the main column pursued its course. The smoke we had seen was soon discovered to be rising from another encampment nearly south of the “Royal Arches;” and at the forks of the Ten-ie-ya branch of the Merced, near the south-west base of the “Half Dome,” still another group of huts was brought to view.