it all enveloped in a thunderstorm. For us, as connected with the
idea of summer, it had a singular charm; and we watched its progress
with excited feelings until nearly sunset, when the sky cleared off
brightly, and we saw a shining line of water directing its course
towards another, a broader and larger sheet. We knew that these
could be no other than the Sacramento and the bay of San Francisco;
but, after our long wandering in rugged mountains, where so frequently
we had met with disappointments, and where the crossing of every
ridge displayed some unknown lake or river, we were yet almost
afraid to believe that we were at last to escape into the genial
country of which we have heard so many glowing descriptions, and
dreaded again to find some vast interior lake, whose bitter waters
would bring us disappointment. On the southern shore of what
appeared to be the bay, could be traced the gleaming line where
entered another large stream; and again the Buenaventura rose up
in our mind.

"Carson had entered the valley along the southern side of the bay,
but the country then was so entirely covered with water from snow
and rain, that he had been able to form no correct impression of
watercourses.

"We had the satisfaction to know that at least there were people
below. Fires were lit up in the valley just at night, appearing
to be in answer to ours; and these signs of life renewed, in
some measure, the gayety of the camp. They appeared so near, that
we judged them to be among the timber of some of the neighboring
ridges; but, having them constantly in view day after day, and
night after night, we afterwards found them to be fires that had
been kindled by the Indians among the tulares, on the shore of the