YREKA CITY. 255 
warn’t the ones to cave in. But ’twarn’t no use; 
the reds jist crowded them clean down, and took 
the har off everyone of ’em. The trails, too, is 
awful soft. Mose Hart says—and he’s now from 
Bogus Holler, whar you have to go—that a mule 
is jist sure to mire down a’most any place.’ 
‘Well,’ I said, ‘your news is not by any 
means refreshing, Judge; nevertheless, I mean 
going.’ 
‘Wael, Cap’en, maybe you’re right; makin’ 
back-tracks ain’t good, anyway; we are a go- 
ahead people, we are, and it won’t pay to be 
skeerish, anyway. S’pose we go and take a 
drink, and I’ll jist put you through the city; I 
guess I’m well posted about most things in these 
diggins.’ 
So we did the city, which did not take very 
much time to do; we did the stores, where 
every person, from the master to the errand-boy, 
did nothing but sit on the counter to chew, 
whittle, and spit. The amount of whittling 
done in this city is perfectly astounding; every 
post supporting the verandahs outside the stores 
and bar-rooms was whittled nearly through ; 
some of them in two or three places. We did 
the bar-rooms, and did sundry drinks with divers 
people. I purchased provisions, hired a guide, 
took leave of the Judge (who was not half a bad 
