come through. Hangman's Gulch was not on the direct route; but some
enterprising individual had found our trail fairly practicable for
wagons and ten miles shorter than the regular road. After that many
followed, and soon we had a well-cleared road. They showed plainly the
hardships of a long journey, for the majority of them were thin, sick
looking and discouraged. Few of them stopped at the diggings, although
most had come west in hopes of gold, but pushed on down to the pastures
of the Sacramento. They were about worn out and needed to recuperate
before beginning anything new. Some were out of provisions and
practically starved. The Yankee storekeeper sold food at terrible rates.
I remember that quinine--a drug much in demand--cost a dollar a grain!
We used to look up from our diggings at the procession of these
sad-faced, lean men walking by their emaciated cattle, and the women
peering from the wagons, and be very thankful that we had decided
against the much-touted overland route.

One day, however, an outfit went through of quite a different character.
We were apprised of its approach by a hunter named Bagsby. He loped down
the trail to the river level very much in a hurry.

"Boys!" he shouted, "quit work! Come see what's coming down the trail!"
with which he charged back again up the hill.

His great excitement impressed us, for Bagsby, like most of the old-time
Rocky Mountain men, was not ordinarily what one would call an emotional
individual. Therefore we dropped our tools and surged up the hill as
fast as we could go. I think we suspected Indians.

A train of three wagons drawn by strong oxen was lurching slowly down
the road. It differed little from others of its kind, save that the
cattle were in better shape and the men walking alongside, of the tall,
competent backwoodsman type, seemed well and hearty. But perhaps a
hundred yards ahead of the leading wagon came a horse--the only horse in
the outfit--and on it, riding side-saddle, was a girl. She was a very
pretty, red-cheeked girl, and she must have stopped within a half mile
or so of the camp in order to get herself up for this impressive
entrance. Her dress was of blue calico with a white yoke and heavy
flounces or panniers; around her neck was a black velvet ribbon; on her
head was a big leghorn hat with red roses. She rode through the town,
her head high, like a princess; and we all cheered her like mad. Not
once did she look at us; but I could see