ly way now to keep me from getting to the gold mines was to kill
me. I felt that there was not a mountain so high I could not climb, and
no desert so wide and dry that I could not cross it. I had walked and
starved and choked and lived through it, and now I felt so strong and
brave I could do it again--any way to reach the gold mines and get some
of the "dust."

I had not much idea how the gold from the mines looked. Everybody called
it gold dust, and that conveyed an idea to me that it was fine as flour,
but how to catch it I did not know. I knew other people found a way to
get it, and I knew I could learn if any body could. It was a great
longing that came to me to see some of the yellow dust in its native
state, before it had been through the mint.

At the last meal I took at the house there were only a few at the table.
Among them was a well dressed Californian who evidently did not greatly
fancy American cooking, but got along very well till Mrs. Brier brought
around the dessert, a sort of duff. This the Californian tasted a few
times and then laid down his spoon saying it was no bueno, and some
other words I did not then understand, but afterward learned that they
meant "too much grease." The fellow left the table not well pleased with
what we generally consider the best end of a Yankee dinner, the last
plate.

While here I had slept in a small store room, where I made my pallet out
of old rags and blankets. While I was looking round for material to make
my bed I came across a bag partly full of sugar, brought from Chili. It
was in very coarse crystals, some as large as corn. There were some
other treasures end luxuries there that perhaps I was expected guard. I
however had a sweet tooth and a handful or so of the sweet crystals
found their way into my pocket.

I bade Mr. Brier and the rest good bye and rode away to join my company.

CHAPTER XII.

Leaving the little party whose wanderings we have followed so closely,
safely arrived in Los Angeles, their further history in California will
be taken up later on, and this narrative will go back to points when the
original party was broken up and trace the little bands in their varied
experience. It will be remembered that the author and his friends, after
a perilous voyage down Green River, halted at the camp of the Indian
chief, Walker, and there separated, the Author and four companions
striking for Salt Lake, while McMahon and Field remained behind, f