speaking to me was themost sensible man I had ever met--myself not excepted: for it was notnecessary for him to have seen Lenore, to know that I had done well indeserting.
After my hunger had been appeased, I moved on with the emigrant train,which I found to consist of three Missouri farmers and their families,on their way to the "Land of Promise." The man with whom I hadconversed, was named Johnson, or "old Johnson," as some of his juniorscalled him. He was a sharp, brisk sort of an old fellow; and I couldperceive, at a glance there was no chance of his being humbugged by anymade-up story. I, therefore, changed my tactics; and franklyacknowledged myself to be a deserter from the United States' troops,occupying the last fort he had passed. It was scarce necessary to add,that my destination was California. I finished by proposing: that hewould have my services in whatever capacity he might require them, inconsideration of furnishing me with food upon the journey.
"Now, I like that way of talking," said old Johnson, when I hadconcluded, "we just chance to need your help, and that of your horse,too; and we'll try to do the best we can for you. You must expect tosee some hard times, before we get through--plenty of work and no greatfeeding--but do your share of the work, and you shall fare like the restof us."
I could ask nothing fairer than this; and the next day, found me dressedin a suit of "linsey wolsey," working my passage to California, bytaking my share with the others, in clearing the track of obstructions,driving the cattle, and such other duties as fall to the lot of theoverland emigrant.
The journey proved long, fatiguing, and irksome--much more so than I hadexpected; and many times a day did I swear, that, if I ever worked apassage to California again, it should be by water. I was impatient toget on; and chafed at the slow pace at which we crawled forward. Horsesand cattle would stray, or make a stampede; and then much time would belost in recovering them.
Sometimes we would reach a stream, where a bridge had to be built orrepaired; and two or three days would be spent at the work. The draughthorses and oxen would die, or, becoming unable to proceed farther, wouldhave to be left behind. The strength of our teams was being constantlyweakened--until they were unable to draw the heavily loaded waggons; andit became necessary to abandon a portion of their contents--which werethrown away upon the prairies. The first articles thus abandoned, werecarpets and other useless things, not required on the journey, but whichto please the women, or at their instigation, had been put into thewaggons at starting, and dragged for six or seven hundred miles!
The dogs, that, at the commencement of the journey, had for each mile ofthe road, travelled about three times that distance, having worn theskin from the soles of their feet, now crawled along after the waggonswithout taking one unnecessary step. They seemed at length to havereached the comprehension: that the journey was to be a protracted one;and that while undertaking it, the idle amusement of chasing birds wasnot true canine wisdom.
I shall not startle my leaders with a recital of any remarkableadventures we had with the hostile Indians: for the simple reason thatwe had none. They gave us much trouble for all that: since our fear ofencountering them, kept us constantly on the alert--one of our party,and some times more, standing sentry over the camp throughout the wholeof every night.
If my readers reason aright, they will give me credit for not drawing onmy imagination for any part of this narrative. They may easily perceivethat, by thus eschewing the subject of an encounter with Indians, I losean excellent opportunity for embellishing my true tale with anintroduction of fiction.
As we approached the termination of our journey, the teams becameweaker--until it took all of them united in one yoke to draw a singlewaggon, containing only the youngest of the children, and a few poundsof necessary provisions!
The old ladies, along with their daughters, performed the last hundredmiles of the journey on foot; and when we at length reached the firstsettlement--on the other side of the mountains--a band of more wretchedlooking individuals could scarce have been seen elsewhere. My ownappearance was no exception to that of my companions. My hat was adirty rag wrapped around my head like a turbann while my boots werenothing more than pieces of buffalo hide, tied around my feet withstrings. For all this, I was as well dressed as any of the party.
My agreement with old Johnson was now fulfilled; and I was at liberty toleave him. I was anxious to be off to the diggings, where his eldestson, James, a young man about twenty years old, proposed accompanyingme. Old Johnson declined going to the diggings himself--his object incoming to California being to "locate" a farm, while the country wasstill "young."
He furnished us with money to buy clothing and tools, as well as to keepus in food for awhile--until we should get fairly under weigh in theprofession we were about to adopt.
I promised to repay my share of this money to his son--as soon as Ishould earn its equivalent out of the auriferous earth of California.
"Now, I like that way of talking," said old Johnson, "for I'm a poorman; and as I have just come here to make a fortune, I can't afford tolose a cent."
I parted with Mr Johnson and his party of emigrants with some regret,for they all had been more kind to me than I had any reason to expect.
I have never found the people of this world quite so bad as they areoften represented; and it is my opinion, that any man who endeavours todeserve true friendship, will always succeed in obtaining it.
I have never met a man whose habit was to rail against mankind ingeneral, and his own acquaintances in particular, whose friendship wasworth cultivation. Such a man has either proved unworthy of friendship,and has never obtained it; or he has obtained, and therefore possessesthat, for which he is ungrateful.
Volume One, Chapter XIX.
A "PROSPECTING EXPEDITION."
On parting with the Californian colonists, young Johnson and I proceededdirect to the diggings on the Yuba, where, after looking about for a dayor so, we joined partnership with two others, and set to work on a"claim" close by the banks of the river.
We had arrived at an opportune season--the summer of 1849--when everyminer was doing well. There was a good deal of generosity among theminers at this time; and those who could not discover a good claim bytheir own exertions, would have one pointed out with directions how towork it!
Our party toiled four weeks at the claim we had chosen, and was verysuccessful in obtaining gold. Never did my hopes of the future appearso bright. Never did Lenore seem so near.
No gold washing could be done on the Yuba during the winter--the waterin the river being then too high--and, as we had not much longer towork, it was proposed by three men, who held the claim adjoining ours,that we should join them in prospecting for some new diggings--where wemight be able to continue at work all the winter, unembarrassed by toomuch water and too many miners.
One of our neighbours who made this proposal, had visited a place aboutforty miles farther up the country--where he believed we might find a"placer" such as we required. He had been upon a hunting expedition tothe place spoken of; and while there did not look for gold--having nomining tools along with him; but from the general appearance of thecountry, and the nature of the soil, he was convinced we might find init some rich dry diggings, that would be suitable for working in thewinter.
It was proposed that one of us should accompany the man on a prospectingexpedition, that we should take plenty of provisions with us, and searchuntil we should discover such diggings as we desired.
To this proposal, both parties agreed; and I was the one chosen, byJohnson and my other two companions, to represent them in theexpedition--the expenses of which were to be equally shared by all.
Before starting, I left with young James Johnson my share of the gold wehad already obtained--which amounted to about sixty ounces.
The hunter and I started--taking with us three mules. Each of us rodeone--having our roll of blankets lashed to the croup of the saddle. Asixty pound bag of flour, some other articles of food, a tent, and thenecessary "prospecting" t
ools formed "the cargo" of the third mule,which, in the language of California, was what is called a "pack-mule."
My fellow prospecter was only known to me by the name of Hiram. I soondiscovered that he was not an agreeable companion--at least, on such anexpedition as that we had undertaken. He was not sociable; but, on thecontrary, would remain for hours without speaking a word; and then, whencalled upon to say something, he would do so in a voice, the tones ofwhich were anything but musical.
The animal I bestrode had been christened "Monte," that of Hiram wascalled "Poker," and the mule carrying "the cargo" was "Uker." With sucha nomenclature for our beasts, we might easily have been mistaken for apair of card-sharpers.
Our progress over the hills was not very rapid. We were unable to go ina direct line; and were continually wandering around steep ridges, orforced out of our way by tributaries of the