MUD-CREEK. 91 
time by land. The Commissioner, nineteen men, 
and thirty-two laden mules, complete our party ; 
the others, with some heavy baggage, are gone 
by the steamer, to await our arrival. We cross 
the Fall-River on a very creditable wooden 
bridge, for which the modest sum of half a dollar, 
(two shillings) was demanded for each animal, 
packed or ridden. (This bridge, soon after, was 
completely swept away by a heavy flood.) 
Thirty-four bullocks, driven by two mounted 
herders, formed a kind of rearguard. 
We made a twenty-mile march, and camped at 
Mud Creek—a dismal place, with little or no 
wood, and very bad water. 
When tents are used, getting away in the 
morning is always a tedious process; we start 
about seven o’clock. For some distance we wind 
through a series of rounded hills, covered thickly 
with ‘bunch-grass,’ a most nutritious herbage; the 
grass grows in tufts—hence the name. Not a 
shrub to be seen—neither bird nor beast. De- 
scend a basaltic gorge, like an immense canal cut 
in the solid rock, and come suddenly on a swift 
stream, named John Day’s river; this we ferried 
in a kind of scow, hauled from side to side by a 
rope. Again we had to pay two shillings a head 
for mules and horses; the bullocks swam it. 
