I told him by signs that we had been twenty-two days on the
road, and that the _Indianos_, as they called them, had not troubled us,
but that there was very little grass or water in all that land. He made
a sort of map on the ground and made me understand he would like to go
back and try to bring out the wagons we had left behind, and he wanted
me to go back with him and help him. I explained to him by the map he
had made, and one which I made myself, that I considered it impossible
to bring them over. He seemed much disappointed, and with a shrug of his
shoulders said "_mucho malo_" (very bad) and seemed to abandon the idea
of getting a Yankee wagon. They very much admired an American wagon, for
their own vehicles were rude affairs, as I shall bye-and-bye describe.
We bade each other many _adios_, and I went on my way, soon catching up
with the little party. We had been informed that it was ten leagues, or
thirty miles to Los Angeles, whither we were now headed.
We had now been a whole year on the road between Wisconsin and
California, much of the time with the ground for a bed, and though our
meals had been sometimes scanty and long between, very few of us had
missed one on account of sickness. Some, less strong than we, had lain
down to perish, and had been left behind, without coffin or grave; but
we were here, and so far had found food to nourish us in some degree
with prospects now of game in the future if nothing better offered. We
still talked of going to the gold mines on foot, for with good food and
rest our courage had returned, and we wanted to succeed.
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