ntil the varied exposures had so weakened it
that it broke while being loaded. I had carried it on my shoulders for
such a long time that my shirt and vest became worn through, and the
brass plate, heated by the scorching sun, did a remarkable piece of
pyro-sculpture by burning into my bare shoulders a pair of shoulder
straps that continued with me more than a year.

Carson valley, through which our route lay, seemed to be twenty or more
miles wide when we first entered it, but it narrowed as it continued
toward the Sierras until it became not more than a mile in width at the
point where it pushed itself far into the mountain range. Upon the
morning of our departure, we were early astir, and, turning to the
right, left the valley that had been to us a Mecca of rest and
replenishment, and entered the Dark Canon, which is but a few rods
wide, with perpendicular sides of rock so high that daylight seemed to
be dropped down from overhead. Through this canon flowed a rushing,
roaring torrent of water, and as the bed of the canon is very steep and
made up mostly of round stones and boulders ranging in size from a
marble to a load of hay, one can imagine something of the difficulties
we had to encounter during the first four miles of our ascent.

In addition to the well-nigh impassable track, was the most deafening
and distracting accumulation of noises ever heard since the time of
Babel. The water as it roared and rushed and dropped itself from boulder
to boulder, the rattling and banging of empty wagons, the cracking of
the drivers' whips, the shouting of the men, and the repetitions and
reverberations of it all as the high walls caught them up and tossed
them back and forth on their way to the exit, gave an impression that
the canon was engaged in grand opera with all stops open.

After spending one entire day here we emerged into what is known as Hope
Valley, and its name in no wise belied its nature. In its quietude we
took a new hold of ourselves, remaining in camp within its enclosure
during the night. The valley is a large estuary or basin upon the first
great bench of the range. Its center seemed to consist of a quagmire, as
one could not walk far out on it and stock could not go at all.

Some of us took our knives and 'twixt rolling and crawling on our
stomachs, got to where the grass was and cut and brought in enough to
bait our horses and mules.

We started again at daylight next morning, and as the roads were