we were beyond Benicia,
where the river banks were close, McCloud sat watching the shore, and
remarked that the boat ran like a greyhound, and it seemed to him, beat
the old ocean steamer pretty bad.

He seemed to be nearly well again, and complimented me as the best
doctor he ever saw. Since he had been sick I had paid him all the
attention I could, and he gave me all the praise I deserved, now that he
was getting to feel himself again.

At Sacramento we changed to another boat bound for Marysville, which
place we reached without special incident. Here we invested in a
four-ounce donkey, that is, we paid four ounces of gold for him, just an
ounce apiece for four of us--W.L. Manley, Robert McCloud, Lyman Ross and
John Briggs. We piled our blankets in a pack upon the gentle, four-ounce
donkey, and added a little tea and coffee, dried beef and bread, then
started for the Yuba River, ourselves on foot. We crossed the river at
Park's Bar, then went up the ridge by way of Nigger Tent, came down to
the river again at Goodyear Bar, then up the stream to Downieville. This
town was named after John Downie, a worthless drunkard. I remember that
he once reformed, but again back-slid and died a drunkard's death.

We found this a lively mining town about sixty miles above Marysville,
on the north fork of the Yuba River, and only reached by a pack trail,
but everything was flush here, even four aces. The location was a
veritable Hole-in-the-Ground, for the mountains around were very high,
and some of them wore their caps of snow all summer, particularly those
on the east. The gold dust we found here was coarser than it was where I
worked before, down south on the Merced River. Before I came to
California I always supposed that gold dust was really dust, and about
as fine as flour.

We went up the North Fork about a mile or two above town and camped on
Wisconsin Flat to begin our mining operations. Our luck was poor at
first, and all except myself were out of money, and more or less in debt
to me. We made expenses, however, and a little more, and as soon as Mr.
Ross got his small debt paid he said he was discouraged mining, and with
blankets on his shoulders started up the trail towards Galloway's ranch,
on the summit south of town. Mr. Ross said the work was too hard for
him, for he was not strong enough to handle pick and shovel, and he
believed he could go down to Sacramento and make more by his wits than
he could here. I went