of the accident, declaring that
they had weightier matters for consideration than cuts and bruises. The
consequences of that accident, however, were far more wide-reaching
than could have been anticipated.

Up and up we toiled until we reached an altitude of six thousand feet,
and were within about ten miles of our companions at the lake, when the
intense cold drove us into camp on Prosser Creek in Alder Creek Valley,
a picturesque and sheltered nook two and a half miles in length and
three-quarters of a mile in width. But no one observed the picturesque
grandeur of the forest-covered mountains which hem it in on the north
and west; nor that eastward and southward it looks out across plateaus
to the Washoe Mountains twenty miles away.

A piercing wind was driving storm-clouds toward us, and those who
understood their threatening aspect realized that twenty-one persons,
eight of them helpless children, were there at the mercy of the
pitiless storm-king.

The teams were hurriedly unhooked, the tents pitched, and the men and
the women began collecting material for more suitable quarters. Some
felled trees, some lopped off the branches, and some, with oxen,
dragged the logs into position. There was enough building material on
the ground for a good sized foundation four logs deep, when night
stopped the work. The moon and stars came out before we went to bed,
yet the following morning the ground was covered with snow two or three
feet in depth, which had to be shovelled from the exposed beds before
their occupants could rise.

I remember well that new day. All plans for log cabins had to be
abandoned. There was no sheltered nook for shivering children, so
father lifted Georgia and me on to a log, and mother tucked a buffalo
robe around us, saying, "Sit here until we have a better place for
you." There we sat snug and dry, chatting and twisting our heads about,
watching the hurrying, anxious workers. Those not busy at the wagons
were helping the builders to construct a permanent camp.

They cleared a space under a tall pine tree and reset the tent a few
feet south of its trunk, facing the sunrise. Then, following the
Indian method as described by John Baptiste, a rude semi-circular hut
of poles was added to the tent, the tree-trunk forming part of its
north wall, and its needled boughs, the rafters and cross-pieces to the
roof. The structure was overlaid so far as possible with pieces of
cloth, old quilts, and buffalo r