various exclamations of pleasure; and, although I had felt but little
faith in him as a pilot from the first, I began now to think that we
were approaching the Bay of San Francisco. Descending into the valley,
we travelled along a small stream two or three miles, and were
continuing on in the twilight, when we heard the tinkling of a cow-bell
on the opposite side of the stream. Certain, from this sound, that
there must be an encampment near, I halted and hallooed at the top of
my voice. The halloo called forth a similar response, with an
interrogation in English, "Who the d----l are you--Spaniards or
Americans?" "Americans." "Show yourselves, then, d----n you, and let us
see the colour of your hide," was the answer.

"Tell us where we can cross the stream, and you shall soon see us," was
our reply.

"Ride back and follow the sound of my voice, and be d----d to you, and
you can cross the stream with a deer's jump."

Accordingly, following the sound of the voice of this rough colloquist,
who shouted repeatedly, we rode back in the dark several hundred yards,
and, plunging into the stream, the channel of which was deep, we gained
the other side, where we found three men standing ready to receive us.
We soon discovered them to be a party of professional hunters, or
trappers, at the head of which was Mr. Greenwood, a famed mountaineer,
commonly known as "Old Greenwood." They invited us to their camp,
situated across a small opening in the timber about half a mile
distant. Having unsaddled our tired animals and turned them loose to
graze for the night, we placed our baggage under the cover of a small
tent, and, taking our seats by the huge camp fire, made known as far as
was expedient our business. We soon ascertained that we had ridden the