mule was as glad as I was to see him.  He crawled through the brush and smelled at the mule’s load and then went forward in the trail, which we followed.  It was a long time after midnight when we reached camp.  There was a good fire burning, but all were asleep till I led the mule up to the fire and called out—­“Wake Up,” when they were most of them on their feet in a minute without stopping to dress, for all had slept a long time without taking off their clothes.

John took charge of the mule and unloaded it, telling me to get into his warm bed.  I took off my wet clothes and told him to dry them, and then got between the dry, warm blankets in greatest comfort.  Daylight came very quickly, it seemed to me, and before I finally rose, the sun had been up some hours before me.  Before I fell asleep I could hear the women say, as they cut off the pieces of meat to roast—­“See the fat!  Only see how nice it is!” Quickly roasted on the coals they ate the delicate morsels with a relish and, most of all, praised the sweet fat.  “We like to have it all fat,” said they, showing how their system craved the nourishment the poor starved beef could not give.  No one went to bed after I came, but all sat and roasted meat and ate till they were satisfied.

This sporting trip was quite different from deer hunting in Wisconsin, and nothing like looking for game in Death Valley where nothing lived.  It was the hardest night’s work that ever came to me in many a day, and not the wild sport I generally looked for when on the chase.  I felt pretty well when I got up, and a chunk of my last night’s prize which had been toasted for me was eaten with a relish, for it was the best of meat and I, of course, had a first class appetite.  I had to tell them my last hunting story, and was much praised as a lucky boy.

We would not be compelled to kill any more of our poor oxen in order to live.  So far we had killed six of them, and there were five left.  Our present situation was much appreciated, compared with that of a few days ago when we were crawling slowly over the desert, hungry, sore-footed and dry, when to lie was far easier than to take steps forward.  We felt like rejoicing at our deliverance and there was no mourning now for us.  The surrounding hills and higher mountains seemed more beautiful to us.  They were covered with green trees and brush, not a desert place in sight.  The clear little singing brook ran merrily on its way, the happiest, brightest stream in all my memory.  Wild birds came near us without fear, and seemed very friendly.  All was calm, and the bright sunshine exactly warm enough so that no one could complain of heat or cold.

When ready to move it was announced that I had lost my saddle blanket in my adventure, so they substituted another one and I took the back track to the place where the mule slipped down the bank, and there I found it.  I soon overtook them again just as they were going to camp on Mrs. Bennett’s account, as she had been suddenly taken sick with severe pain and vomiting, something as Rogers and I had been after eating our first California corn meal.  The rich, fat meat was too strong for her weak stomach.