elf in all kinds of inventions
with which she mitigated the discomforts of the raw mining camp. As
vegetables were exceedingly scarce, the diet of the miners consisted
almost exclusively of meat, and Mrs. Osbourne made a great hit by her
ingenuity in devising variations of this monotonous fare. She learned
how to cook beef in fifteen different ways. Her great achievement,
however, was in making imitation honey, to eat with griddle-cakes, out
of boiled sugar with a lump of alum in it.

All about in the mountains there were Indians, belonging to the Paiute
tribe, and between 1849 and 1882 there was constant trouble with them.
They were a better-looking and more spirited race than the "Diggers"
of California, and consequently more disposed to resent the frequent
outrages put upon them by irresponsible men among the whites. As an
instance, in 1861 some white men stole horses from the Indians, who
then rose up in retaliation, and all the whites, the innocent as well
as the guilty, were compelled to unite for defense, a large number
losing their lives in the subsequent fight.

In the mornings, while Mrs. Osbourne was doing her housework in the
little cabin on the hillside, Indians would gather outside and press
their faces against the window-panes, their eyes following her about
the room. There were blinds, but she was afraid to give offense by
pulling them down. The absence of the Indians was sometimes even more
alarming than their presence, and once when it was noticed that none
of them had been seen about the camp for several days, the residents
knew that trouble threatened. One night signal fires blazed on the
distant mountain tops, and a thrill of fear ran through the little
community. The women and children were gathered in one cabin and made
to lie on the floor and keep quiet. Even the smallest ones must have
felt the danger, for not a whimper escaped them. One of them was a
baby called Aurora. Little Isobel Osbourne thought she was called
"Roarer" because she bawled all the time, but even "Roarer" was quiet
that night.

Among the Austin Indians there was a little boy who named his pony
"Fanny." "Did you name it for me?" my sister asked. He nodded his
head. "Why?" she asked, and he said it was because the pony had such
little feet.

Near the Osbourne cabin lived a miner named Johnny Crakroft. Mrs.
Osbourne never saw him, for he was too shy to speak to a woman, but he
left offerings on her door-step or tied to the