The slough I mentioned above was not a stagnant one. It was fed by water
from Feather River. After winding around an island, it emptied its
waters back into the river farther down stream, so that fresh water was
continually entering and flowing from it. Along its banks grew a fringe
of tall cottonwood trees. Many of them were completely enveloped with
wild grapevines, which bore abundantly. The slough was full of two or
three varieties of perch, or, as we called them, sun-fish; also a white
fish called chub. These fish were all very palatable, and I caught loads
of them. In the fall, when the wild grapes were ripe, they would fall off
into the water and were fed upon by the fish. Beneath the vine-clad
cottonwoods the fishing was always good.

One afternoon I was following a path just outside of the pasture fence,
through heavy wheat stubble, left after cutting time. I saw a pair of
pink ears ahead of me, which I knew belonged to a rabbit. I blazed away
at the ears. The gun, as usual, did execution at both ends. I went over
on my back. When I regained my feet I saw a great commotion on the
firing line. Rabbits' legs and feathers were alternately in the air.
Investigating, I found two cottontail, one jackrabbit and three quail in
the last stages of dissolution, all the result of one shot at two
rabbit's ears. I felt bigger than Napoleon ever did as I gathered up my
kill and started for home.

On one of my wanderings I came across; the barrel of a rifle on an
Indian mound, which had been plowed up when we were preparing the land
for planting. It was so coated with rust that the metal was no longer
visible. Floods had covered the ground many times. Not knowing how long
it had been buried there, I dug the rust and dirt out of the barrel as
best I could and took it home. On my first trip to Marysville I took it