" The fellow left the table not well pleased with
what we generally consider the best end of a Yankee dinner, the last
plate.
While here I had slept in a small store room, where I made my pallet out
of old rags and blankets. While I was looking round for material to make
my bed I came across a bag partly full of sugar, brought from Chili. It
was in very coarse crystals, some as large as corn. There were some
other treasures end luxuries there that perhaps I was expected guard. I
however had a sweet tooth and a handful or so of the sweet crystals
found their way into my pocket.
I bade Mr. Brier and the rest good bye and rode away to join my company.
CHAPTER XII.
Leaving the little party whose wanderings we have followed so closely,
safely arrived in Los Angeles, their further history in California will
be taken up later on, and this narrative will go back to points when the
original party was broken up and trace the little bands in their varied
experience. It will be remembered that the author and his friends, after
a perilous voyage down Green River, halted at the camp of the Indian
chief, Walker, and there separated, the Author and four companions
striking for Salt Lake, while McMahon and Field remained behind, fully
determined to go on down the river.
The story of these two men is told by McMahon in the following
interesting letter.
* * * * *
Dear Manley:--
Yours requesting me to give you a synopsis of the history of incidents,
experience, and observations of our mutual friend, Richard Field and
myself, from the time you, John Rogers, Alfred Walton, and the Hazelrig
brothers left us at the camp of the generous old chief Walker on the
west bank of the river near the mouth of the "great seven days canon" is
at hand.
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