We had got through the chaparral and our party with the mules had also come across and were many rods farther down the valley, coming up to meet us.  As Loring fled with the speed of an antelope, he met the first animal, which happened to be the kitchen mule.  He was so called, because he had very large open bags or panniers, into which we put all our cooking utensils.  Loring sprang upon the back of the mule.  At the same moment the animal caught sight of the grizzly bear.  Frantic with terror, he turned and fled as mule never fled before.  Down went the mule on the back track along the edge of the chaparral.  Once in a while, as the bags flew around, they would catch on the bushes, and tear a hole.  Soon the tin cups and plates began to fly, the mule kicking at them with every jump, making such a din as to set all the rest of the animals flying through the bushes, and down the trail in the wildest imaginable stampede.  The huge bear in mad pursuit was rushing after them.

It was a sight I shall never forget.  Loring on the cook’s mule hanging on with all his might.  The tin ware flying in all directions.  All the boys as well as your humble servant, up in the trees looking on.  I laughed so heartily at the ludicrous scene, that I was in danger of falling, in which case the bear would have torn me to pieces right quick.

But who is this coming towards me?  He is an old hunter of our party who used to make shingles in the Red-woods.  He has had two sons killed by bears.  Now he has joined our party to provide us with game.  Deliberately, he walks up to within ten feet of the bear who is growling at the foot of my tree.  Bruin turns on his new foe, and rising on his hind feet, with appalling howlings, prepares for battle.  But in an instant the old man’s rifle is at his shoulder.  His eye runs quickly through the sights, an explosion follows, and the bear is dead.  The hunter knew well where to strike a vital point.  Satisfied that the monster was powerless, I came down from the tree.

The other bear, apparently dismayed by the commotion he had created, turned into the chaparral and disappeared.  It required all the rest of the day to re-collect our party and to repair damages.

Let us now pass from these scenes to the spring of the year 1854.  Here we are then in San Francisco, all ready to start on board the Sea Bird.  “Cast off the lines.”  “Aye, aye, sir.”  Off we go around North Beach.  You will see Point Boneta on the north, and Point de los Lobos on the south.  Through the straits we go out at the Golden Gate.  Onward we glide past Farallones de los Frayles, and here we are out on the broad Pacific.

After sailing about three hundred miles south we arrive at San Pedro.  We go ashore at once and secure seats in the stage for Ciudad de los Angelos, which is situated about twenty-five miles from here in a northerly direction.  There is now, after the lapse of twenty years, a railroad, instead of Banning’s stages, by which one can be transported to the City of Angels.  We shall be obliged to stay here for a few days, to prepare our outfit.  Let us see what we want.  Mules and jacks, pack-saddles, saddles for ourselves to ride, in fact every thing pertaining to camp-life.  Here we can get almost any thing we wish for man or beast.