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books I cared at all to read, and they were the very books that I in that state of mind should not have read. I pictured myself the hero of all I read. Instead of being awakened, I was only dreaming a greater dream.

I returned to Soda Springs ranch, and Mountain Joe went with me to the Indian camp, but I never took him into my confidence. Not but he was a brave, true man, but that he was unfortunately sometimes given to getting drunk, and besides that, he was the last man to sympathize with the Indian or any plan that looked to his improvement. I laid in my supplies, and proposed to spend my winter with the Indians. I loved Mountain Joe fondly ; and in spite of his prophecies that he would see me no more, returned to the camp on the Upper McCloud. As feed for stock was scarce on the ranch, I with my Indians took the horses on the McCloud to winter. My camp was about seventy-five miles from the Pit River settlements, and about thirty miles from Soda Springs. These were the nearest white habita tions. I was partly between the two.

About mid- winter the chief led his men up to wards the higher spurs of the mountain for a great hunt. After some days on the head-waters of the McCloud, at some hot springs in the heart of a deep forest and dense undergrowth, we came upon an immense herd of elk. The snow was from five to ten feet deep. We had snow shoes, and as the elk were helpless, after driving them from the thin