On the trees
surrounding the camp were stretched the skins of various animals which
had been killed in the hunt; some preserved for their hides, others for
the fur. Bear-meat and venison enough for a winter's supply were
hanging from the limbs. The swearing of Turner, a man of immense frame
and muscular power, during our evening's conversation, was almost
terrific. I had heard mountain swearing before, but his went far beyond
all former examples. He could do all the swearing for our army in
Mexico, and then have a surplus.
The next morning (Nov. 3rd), after partaking of a hearty breakfast, and
suspending from our saddles a sufficient supply of venison and
bear-meat for two days' journey, we started back on our own trail. We
left our miserable Indian pilot at his _rancheria_. I gave him the
shirt from my back, out of compassion for his sufferings--he well
deserved a _dressing_ of another kind. It rained all day, and, when we
reached Barnett's (the empty house) after four o'clock, P.M., the black
masses of clouds which hung over the valley portended a storm so
furious, that we thought it prudent to take shelter under a roof for
the night.
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