the Washoe valley,
and were skilled guides all over Nevada, both of whom we took along as
guides, cooks, and to drive and care for the team. Rose took along a
pony, which we led, and the government agent, old Rose and myself formed
the passenger list. We were supplied with eatables and drinkables for a
long campaign, but as it rains but once a year in that country, we never
encumbered ourselves on a march with tents, except in the rainy season.
In fact, the ground between the sage bushes and grease-wood trees is so
dry and clean that you don't need even blankets or robes to sleep on,
but they are usually carried.

Our course lay down the valley of the Truckey river to its big bend,
where Rose was to leave us and go to Pyramid lake for Win-ne-muc-ca. We
accomplished this part of the journey, a distance of about one hundred
miles, in three days, without any special incident, except on one
occasion, when we were rounding a projecting point in the river, on a
ledge of rocks, some driftwood got entangled with the legs of our
leading mules, and came very near dumping us all into the boiling and
rushing current, which would inevitably have drowned the whole party;
but we reached our destination safely. At the big bend, which is now one
of the principal stations on the Central Pacific Railroad, we found a
spacious piece of bottom land, well supplied with grass for our animals,
and a clump of six tall stately cottonwood trees, presenting an inviting
place to camp, which we accepted as our resting place.

The next morning Rose mounted his pony and started for the lake, saying
he would return in a couple of days with the chief, who would guide us
to the mine--and fortune. The government agent was an old friend of
mine, a California forty-niner, and a most companionable fellow. The
Mormons were excellent cooks, and most efficient camp men. We had
abundant camp supplies, supplemented with fine fish brought to us by the
Indians, so we settled down for a delightful rest. Every night the men
would make a cheerful crackling fire of dry driftwood from the river,
hobble the mules, and fall asleep for the night, leaving us to enjoy the
soft summer air and brilliant moonlight, while discussing our future
plans when possessed of the boundless wealth that only awaited the
coming of Rose and the chief. Before retiring for the night, which only
meant lying down on a blanket, we usually reclined each against a tree,
with a demijohn between us,