manufacture.  We could obtain from them but little information about the country.  They made on the ground a drawing of the river, which they represented as issuing from another lake in the mountains three or four days distant, in a direction a little west of south; beyond which, they drew a mountain; and further still, two rivers; on one of which they told us that people like ourselves traveled.

They still wandered to the south, passing near where Dayton, Nevada, now is, and reaching Bridgeport and Mono and Twin Lakes.  Here they struck north and west again and soon had to leave the howitzer.  Passing through Antelope Valley they reached Markleeville in deep snow, passed Graver’s Springs, entered Faith and Hope Valleys, and here it was Fremont gained his view of Lake Tahoe.  It was February 14, 1844.  He says: 

The dividing ridge of the Sierra is in sight from this encampment.  Accompanied by Mr. Preuss, I ascended to-day the highest peak to the right [probably Stevens Peak, 10,100 feet above sea-level], from which we had a beautiful view of a mountain lake at our feet, about fifteen miles in length, and so entirely surrounded by mountains that we could not discover an outlet [Lake Tahoe].  We had taken with us a glass, but though we enjoyed an extended view, the valley was half hidden in mist, as when we had seen it before.  Snow could be distinguished on the higher parts of the coast mountains, eastward, as far as the eye could extend.  It ranged over a terrible mass of broken snowy mountains, fading off blue in the distance.  The rock composing the summit consists of very coarse, dark, volcanic conglomerate; the lower parts appeared to be of a slaty structure.  The highest trees were a few scattered cedars and aspens.  From the immediate foot of the peak, we were two hours reaching the summit, and one hour and a quarter in descending.  The day had been very bright, still, and clear, and spring seemed to be advancing rapidly.  While the sun is in the sky the snow melts rapidly, and gushing springs cover the face of the mountain in all exposed places, but their surface freezes instantly with the disappearance of the sun.

I obtained to-night some observations, and the result from these, and others made during our stay, gives for the latitude 38 deg. 41’ 57”, longitude 120 deg. 25’ 57” [the correct longitude for this place is 119 deg. 58’], and rate of the chronometer 25.82.

The next night they encamped on the headwaters of a little creek, where at last the water found its way to the Pacific.  The following morning they started early.