d saddle horses with one pack horse, or mule,
to two men. At Grass Valley, between the Deschutes and John Day River we
fell in with a large company returning from a search for the "Blue
Bucket Diggins." They, had been successful (in saving their horses) and
hearing of the Oro Fino strike were bound, like ourselves, for the new
El Dorado.

At the crossing of the John Day River we found a ferry boat kept and
owned by a couple of thrifty traders, who had set themselves down to
make their fortunes quickly and without the aid of the pick and shovel.
But their covetousness was their ruin. The sum of $6 was demanded for a
horseman and $4 for a pack horse. Our party argued with them, but to no
purpose. They would take nothing less. After parleying for some time the
traders were asked the price for ferrying over a foot-man and his
luggage. Wall Cushman, one of the traders, replied, "one dollar." Then
saddles and packs began to come off the backs of horses and mules.
Cushman threatened, swore and plead, but all to no purpose. He should
receive one dollar for ferrying footmen and no more.

Saddles, packs, provisions, and blankets were piled up at the ferry
landing and the most stupendous amount of luggage ever carried by a hobo
was then, one after another, piled on the backs of footmen. The footman
would stand within a step of the boat and, after his luggage was piled
on his back, would make a step on to the boat, and drop his load. Often
two and three men would steady him until the step was made. All was fun
and laughter except to Cushman and his partner. While this was going on,
others had crowded the horses to the river bank and were endeavoring to
make them swim the river. But try as they would, the horses upon
striking the swift current of the river would swing around and come out
on the same side. It was now Cushman's time to laugh. In this extremity
a reward of $20 was offered any one who would swim his horse ahead of
the band and guide them over. I quickly volunteered. I wanted the
twenty, and I wanted to save my dollar. Some of the older men objected.
But I had swum my horse across the Williamette River and the
insignificant John Day, not a fourth as wide, had no terrors for me.
Mounting my horse, I rode down into the river until almost swimming.
Meantime I had divested myself of all clothing save that provided by
mother nature, and having loaded my saddle and effects on the back of my
partner, fastened my right hand in