th
side of the track, I proceeded toward that town, being careful to keep
away from the roads.

After proceeding two or three miles, I concluded to get on the other
side of the track; and with that object in view, tried to catch a view
of the telegraph poles, in order to find the track; in a few minutes I
discovered them. In order to change my position to the other side of
the track, I would have to cross two roads, one on each side, which
was a dangerous undertaking so near Merced, in the day time. But the
fog gave me courage, and I started. I had just crossed over the track,
meantime keeping my eyes on all sides of me, when I discovered a man
riding along toward Merced. I immediately dropped flat, and he rode
past, all unconscious of my near presence. This fellow, I should judge
from his paraphernalia--consisting of six shooter, bowie knife and
gun--was one of the brave crowd whom I encountered the preceding night
at the Half-Way House. The horse was completely fagged out, and his
rider was evidently returning to Merced for a fresh movement. I know
you, sir; I saw you, but you did not me. After the outlines of horse
and rider faded away in the foggy mist, I hurriedly walked about a
half mile from the railroad, intending to lay in one of the many
little hollows thereabouts and await the coming of dark.

It was now about half past four. Up to this time I had not had a drop
of water, although I had hunted for it in creeks and "hog wallows."
The cravings of appetite did not bother me much--my thirst was too
keen. Arriving at the point just mentioned, I discovered a pool of
muddy water, and getting on my hands and knees, I proceeded to slake
my thirst. I took one swallow, and it burnt my throat like molten
lead. It was alkali water, and the strongest I ever tasted. It was a
bitter disappointment, but it was near night; I was but a few miles
from town, and under the cover of darkness I could get water and maybe
something to eat.

Night at last arrived, and under its sable folds I reached the
railroad bed, and proceeded on my way--my place of destination,
Merced. About seven o'clock I reached the outskirts of the town, and,
proceeding cautiously to Fourteenth street, through Chinatown, crossed
the railroad track below the El Capitan Hotel. Just as I stepped on
the track two men passed on their way to town--evidently men from one
of the farms beyond Merced. I was then about five hundred yards from
my home, and I determine