They annoyed me so that I moved
my lodgings to the ferryboat, but here they quickly found me and
troubled me all night. These insects were the first I had seen since I
left the lower Platte river, and I thought them as bad as on the
Mississippi.
From here the road led up the Merced river near the bottom, and as we
came near groves of willows, big, stately elk would start out and trot
off proudly into the open plains to avoid danger. These proud,
big-horned monarchs of the plains could be seen in bunches scattered
over the broad meadows, as well as an equal amount of antelope. They all
seemed to fear us, which was wise on their part, and kept out of rifle
shot. As were not starving as we were once, I did not follow them out on
the open plain, for I thought I could get meat when we were more in
need.
We followed up the river bottom and saw not a single house until we
reached the road leading from Stockton to the Mariposa mines, where we
found a ferry and a small store. Here we learned that some men were
mining a few miles up the river, so we drove on until we found a little
work being done in a dry gulch near the river bank. We made our camp at
this spot and had plenty of wood, water and grass. We found there was
something to be learned in the art of gold mining. We had no tools nor
money, and had never seen a speck of native gold and did not know how to
separate it from the dirt nor where to search for it. We were poor,
ignorant emigrants. There were two or three men camped here.
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