GETTING OUT OF A FIX. 263 
I felt cold all over—TI thought it was coming. 
‘ You must excuse me,’ I said; ‘my breakfast is 
waiting, and I daresay we shall meet again.’ (I 
knew this was an awful twister. ) 
‘I’m sure we shall, Cap’en. Let’s licker:’ so we 
adjourned to the nearest bar-room and took an 
‘eye-opener,’ and so I escaped from the drayman. 
I drew a deep breath, and felt as if I had got clear 
from the claws of a grisly bear—made for the inn 
as fast as I could, gobbled up a hasty breakfast, 
packed up my goods, and with my guide started 
for my camp. 
Often I turned and gazed anxiously over the 
plain, expecting I should see the drayman, his 
daughter Caroline, and a priest in hot pursuit; 
and there and then, on the Shasta plains, I should 
be, nolens volens, linked to my fair-haired part- 
ner, for a life’s cotillon! 
Such was my first, and such was my last, my 
only night in Yreka! ‘AIl’s well that ends well,’ 
and I trust the fair Caroline has as pleasant a 
remembrance of the Cap’en as he has of her! 
I found my camp all right, saddled up, and 
am off on my perilous journey through the wilds 
of Oregon. The Shasta plains are vast sandy 
flats, half prairie, half desert, sparsely covered 
with withered grass, and not a bush or tree or 
