where I lodged. I spent ten minutes in hastily
arranging my belongings—and it is wonderful
how much a man can condense into ten minutes
when he is under the influence of strong excitement
—charged my revolver, packed a few things
in a small bag, and ran back like a greyhound.
Mr. Spalding gave me some fuller instructions, and
handed to me a heavy parcel of gold and silver, as
well as a bundle of bank-notes. I was to keep the
bank-paper until I reached the civilised world;
in the desert, my only hope would be to bribe in
specie the half-tamed wanderers of the west.
Mr. Spalding was still talking when Bodesson,
one of the principal liverymen of San Francisco,
drove his spanking pair of Spanish horses up to
the door. Then the merchant went up-stairs,
and returned with his daughter. Dear Emma!
she was pale, and thinner than of old, but her
eyes were bright and loving, and her words, full
of hope and constancy, gave me fresh courage,
and a resolve to do or die. Our parting was
very brief. A few hurried whispers—a hasty
renewal of the old vows and troth-plight—
and for a moment I caught her in my arms
and kissed her cheek, and in the next I was
gone. I sat by Bodesson's side; the whip
cracked; off flew the foaming horses along the
street; and I looked back and waved a farewell
in answer to Mr. Spalding's waving hand and
Emma's handkerchief. Then we turned the
corner, and darted along the road.

Bodesson was well paid, and he kept the
mettled horses at their work over many a mile
of ground. I seemed to start cheerfully, and
under good auspices. My heart was full of
hope. The gay French Creole by my side was a
merry companion; he sang Canadian songs,
whistled, chirruped to the bounding bays, and
chattered incessantly.

"Monsieur was going to the prairies! Ah,
très bien! The prairies were ver intéressantes,
ver moch so. But monsieur must take care when
he got there—must not stir from the protection
of ze dragoons, or les sauvages, ze ferocious
Indians, would carry off monsieur's cheveux—
what you call scalp!"

So the Frenchman prattled on. He believed
I was going to Salt Lake City on business, and
never doubted that I should voyage with a
caravan under escort of the States dragoons.
What would he have said had he known
that I was to traverse that land of danger
and hunger alone?

My journey to the eastern border of
California was not remarkable enough to justify
me in dwelling here on its details. Spending
money freely, I was able to proceed
almost entirely in wheeled carriages more or
less rude, and I contrived to push along over
sorry roads at a respectable pace. I slept in
the vehicles during the dark hours, snatching a
broken slumber as best I could, in the midst of
jolting and swaying. Sometimes even a bribe
could not induce my Mexican or American
drivers to risk the perils of a stony road at
night, and then I recruited my strength by rest,
but was always ready to start at cock-crow. I
knew well what was before me, and that all the
fatigue I endured was child's play to what was
in store. I had been on the prairies before—
those, at least, which lie east of the Rocky
Mountains. Mr. Spalding was well aware that
I was a good horseman, expert in the use of
fire-arms, and of a robust constitution. These
are not the common attributes of a clerk, but I
had not been bred to the desk. My father had
been esteemed rich, till at his death, in
embarrassed circumstances, I had been left to battle
with poverty as I might; I had kept hunters
at Oxford, and had been passionately fond of
field sports. I had kept up the habit of taking
brisk exercise, and now I was about to find the
benefit of trained muscles and robust health. I
did not disguise from myself that I was embarking
on an enterprise full of risks. I might
starve in the desert, whitened as it was by the
bones of many an emigrant. I might perish
miserably in one of those fires that rush like
flaming serpents through the boundless sea of
grass. And if my scalp did not blacken in the
smoke of some Indian wigwam, fever or sheer
fatigue might make an end of my life and hopes
at once. Or, I might reach New York too late.
It was gall and wormwood to me to think that
Joram Heckler was pressing on towards the
north with all the speed of a fast steamer. The
very thought made me bound and stamp my foot
on the floor of the rude mail-cart, as if I could
quicken my progress by such a gesture. How
I prayed that contrary winds might delay the
packet on its passage from Aspinwall to the
Empire City!

I reached Carson City, on the border of
the desert, and there I made a brief halt that
I might prepare for the coming effort. I
was perfectly well aware that the most
dangerous and difficult part of the road was that
lying between California and the Mormon
settlements. Once beyond the Utah territory, I
might well hope to escape the arrows and
tomahawk of the savage. I found Carson full of
returning emigrants, diggers going back with their
pelf to the Atlantic states, Mormon converts,
and traders who had emptied their waggons in
Californian markets. These good folks were all
waiting for the regular escort of national
dragoons, under whose guard they were to travel.
It was impossible for me to move so slowly,
and I accordingly bought a bag of sun-dried
beef, another of parched corn, some blankets,
and such matters, and a powerful horse
handsomely accoutred with a bridle and saddle
of Mexican make. I bought the latter from an
American dealer, who was mightily tickled at
the idea of my making my way alone over the
prairies. "I give you credit for your grit,
sartainly, mister," said he: "it is good, and no
mistake; but I guess you'd better sleep upon
the idea a few times more. Them  Indian
scalpers will lift your ha'r, sure as hogs yield
bacon. Won't you believe me? Come along,
then, and ax another man's opinion!" And he
dragged me towards a sort of tavern, the porch
of which was crowded by men and women,