Truckee is a rapid, rollicking stream from one end to the other, and
affords dam-sites and mill-sites without limit. There is little ridable
road down the Truckee ca¤on; but before reaching "Verdi, a station a few
miles over the Nevada line, I find good road, and ride up and dismount
at the door of the little hotel as coolly as if I had rode without a
dismount all the way from 'Frisco. Here at Verdi is a camp of Washoe
Indians, who at once showed their superiority to the Diggers by clustering
around and examining; the bicycle with great curiosity. Verdi is less
than forty miles from the summit of the Sierras, and from the porch of
the hotel I can see the snow-storm still fiercely raging up in the place
where I stood a few hours ago; yet one can feel that he is already in a
dryer and altogether different climate. The great masses of clouds,
travelling inward from the coast with their burdens of moisture, like
messengers of peace with presents to a far country, being unable to
surmount the great mountain barrier that towers skyward across their
path, unload their precious cargoes on the mountains; and the parched
plains of Nevada open their thirsty mouths in vain. At Verdi I bid good-by
to the Golden State and follow the course of the sparkling Truckee toward
the Forty-mile Desert.






CHAPTER II.