out my note-book, and began writing beside the camp-fire.

"¿No puede Vm. dormir?" said Don Luis to me, as he moved away towards
the tent.

"No, Senor," replied I. "Pienso a la veja Ingleterra; a mi Hermano y a
mis amigos."

"Por ventura a una amiguita," observed Don Luis.

I laughed, and answering, "Es possible, Senor," went on writing.

We are now regularly settled on the Bear River, and have, as yet, seen
no signs of human life round about us. The reports, therefore, which we
heard at Weber's Creek, of the gold-finders having penetrated into this
valley, would appear to have been without foundation. We have observed
a fresh-made trail, which the old trapper seems to consider passes in
the direction of the Truckee Lake; and we have noticed the remains of
several camp-fires at different parts of the valley. In all probability
this trail has been made by the Mormon emigrants, who are reported to
have gone on a gold-hunting expedition across the salt desert to the
shores of the Great Salt Lake, a distance of seven or eight hundred
miles. The old trapper had some wonderful stories to tell about the
dangers of the journey across the Salt Plain. How that a man has to
travel, from the first faint break of grey light in the morning, as
hard as his horse will carry him, over a desert of white salt--which
crunches and crumbles beneath his horse's tread at every step he
takes--until the sun has gone down behind the tall peaks of the distant
Sierra Nevada. No water but of the most brackish kind can be procured
to refresh either horse or rider through the whole of this weary route,