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occurred to us to leave our mules to rest and get fresh horses. Accordingly, we approached the old fellow, sunning himself on the sand before his lodge, and said, in the old words by which a favour was asked when first I knew this people, and had for the asking,

"Brother, the sun goes on. Your brothers are weary and have far to go. Bring us better horses."

The old tender of herds turned his head half way, and informed me in broken English and butchered Mexican, badly put together, that he had some horses to sell, but none to give away. Consternation! These Indians are getting civilized, I said to myself. Here has been a missionary in my absence; and we rode on.

Every foot of ground here, even up to the rugged base of Shasta, was familiar to me. Sometimes, to the terror of Limber Jim, I took the lead in the trail. I knew as well as he the stones or the broken twigs that pointed out the pit. All the afternoon we rode along the rim of the bright blue river, except when forced to climb a spur of mountain that ran its nose fairly into the water and cut us off.

All along the shores stood deserted lodges, and the grass grew rank and tall around them. They had been depopulated for years. I had not as yet met a single old acquaintance.

It was fairly dark before we dismounted at an empty lodge and pitched camp for the night.

Early we set out next morning on our