grim death. Along the edge of the American River canon and commanding a
magnificent view, are the homes of the local aristocracy. In christening
Auburn, it is scarcely credible that the pioneers had in mind
Goldsmith's "loveliest village of the Plain;" nor, keeping the old town
in view, is the title remarkably applicable today.

Our next objective point being Colfax, distant in a north-easterly
direction only fifteen miles, we made a leisurely inspection of the town
and vicinity in the morning. The old town proved of absorbing interest
to my friend, and we became separated while be was hunting up subjects
for the camera. Having a free and easy working scheme in such matters,
after a few minutes' search, I gave up the quest and started alone on
the road to Colfax.

A few miles out, I met a man with a rifle on his shoulder, leading a
burro bearing a pack-saddle laden in the most scientific manner with
probably all his worldly possessions, the pick and shovel plainly
denoting a prospector. A water bucket on one side of the animal was so
adjusted that the bottom was uppermost; on the top of the bucket sat a
little fox-terrier, his eyes fixed steadfastly on his master. I paused a
moment, possessed with a strong desire to take a snap shot of this
remarkable equipment, but the man with the gun gave me a glance that
settled the matter. His was not a bad face - far from it - but the
features were stern and set, the cheeks furrowed with deep lines that
bespoke hardship and fatigue in the struggle with Nature and the
elements. That glance out of the tail of his eye meant: "Let me alone
and I will let you alone, but let me alone!"

Taciturnity becomes habitual to men accustomed to vast solitudes. Even
on such a tramp as I had undertaken, in which I frequently walked for