.....The level ranks of flame were relieved at intervals by the
standard-bearers, as we called the tall dead trees, wrapped in fire, and
waving their blazing banners a hundred feet in the air.   Then we could
turn from this scene to the Lake, and see every branch, and leaf, and
cataract of flame upon its bank perfectly reflected as in a gleaming,
fiery mirror.  The mighty roaring of the conflagration, together with our
solitary and somewhat unsafe position (for there was no one within six
miles of us,) rendered the scene very impressive.   Occasionally, one of
us would remove his pipe from his mouth and say, “Superb!  magnificent! 
Beautiful!  but-by the Lord God Almighty, if we attempt to sleep in this
little patch tonight, we’ll never live till morning! for if we don’t burn
up, we’ll certainly suffocate.”   But he was persuaded to sit up until we
felt pretty safe as far as the fire was concerned, and then we turned in,
with many misgivings.   When we got up in the morning, we found that the
fire had burned small pieces of drift wood within six feet of our boat,
and had made its way to within 4 or 5 steps of us on the South side.   We
looked like lava men, covered as we were with ashes, and begrimed with
smoke.   We were very black in the face, but we soon washed ourselves
white again.

John D. Kinney, a Cincinnati boy, and a first-rate fellow, too, who came out with judge Turner, was my comrade.  We staid at the Lake four days —­I had plenty of fun, for John constantly reminded me of Sam Bowen when we were on our campaign in Missouri.  But first and foremost, for Annie’s, Mollies, and Pamela’s comfort, be it known that I have never been guilty of profane language since I have been in this Territory, and Kinney hardly ever swears.—­But sometimes human nature gets the better of him.  On the second day we started to go by land to the lower camp, a distance of three miles, over the mountains, each carrying an axe.  I don’t think we got lost exactly, but we wandered four hours over the steepest, rockiest and most dangerous piece of country in the world.  I couldn’t keep from laughing at Kinney’s distress, so I kept behind, so that he could not see me.  After he would get over a dangerous place, with infinite labor and constant apprehension, he would stop, lean on his axe, and look around, then behind, then ahead, and then drop his head and ruminate awhile.—­Then he would draw a long sigh, and say:  “Well—­could any Billygoat have scaled that place without breaking his --- ------ neck?” And I would reply, “No,—­I don’t think he could.”  “No—­you don’t think he could—­” (mimicking me,) “Why don’t you curse the infernal place?  You know you want to.--I do, and will curse the --- ------ thieving country as long as I live.”  Then we would toil on in silence for awhile.  Finally I told him—­“Well, John, what if we don’t find our way out of this today—­we’ll know all about the country when we do get out.”  “Oh stuff—­I know enough—­and too much about the d—–­d