poor young officers had to walk, and their faces were long when they
looked out at the rain and then down at their fine uniforms and shining
boots.

"Our California horses were not trained to pull loads and would not work
in the rain, so when the carriage came for us it was drawn by a number
of the governor's Cholo soldiers. We got in quite safely, and it was
only a short distance we had to go, but as I was getting out the wind
suddenly changed and down came a torrent of water on me. It was clear
that I could not go to the ball in that condition, but the governor
immediately ordered the soldiers to pull the carriage back to my home,
where I soon made another toilet. The ball was delightful. The governor
and the commodore vied with each other in exchanging compliments and
courtesies."

It was a sad fact, however, that in spite of apologies, dinners, and
balls, Consul Larkin now found it difficult to persuade his California
neighbors that the United States looked upon them as brothers, and they
began to regard with suspicion the host of American emigrants who were
coming into the territory.

In 1842 Lieutenant Fremont, under orders from the United States
government, made the first of his wonderful journeys over deserts and
rough mountain ranges into the great unknown West. Soon he was to become
famous, not only in his own country but in Europe, as the "Pathfinder,"
the road maker of the West. Already many an Oregon emigrant had blessed
the name of Fremont for making plain the trail for himself and his loved
ones.

In 1846 Captain Fremont, conducting an exploring and scientific