1 90 Life of a Fossil Hunter 



on Fox Prairie at the summit of the mountains, 

 about six miles east of our camp in the Cove, he had 

 gone off in that direction to look for it. 



When I reached the high mountain above Day- 

 ville, I could look down into the narrow valley of 

 the John Day. Although it was noon, there was 

 no smoke rising from the chimneys of the houses. 

 The fields of wheat were ripe for the cradle they 

 had no machines in that region, and not only cradled 

 their grain, but threshed it with horses, who 

 tramped it out but no one was working in them, 

 and there was no stock in the pastures. What could 

 it mean? I asked myself; and as I followed the 

 long trail down to the river, my heart was full of 

 fearful forebodings. Had a pestilence killed all 

 these people whom I knew so well ? Or had they all 

 fled, with their horses and cattle, from Indians on 

 the warpath? 



Without expecting to hear a response, I called, 

 when I reached the river, for Mr. Mascall to come 

 over with his boat and take me across. To my de- 

 light, I saw him come out of his house and take the 

 trail down to the boat through the woods that 

 covered the first river bottom. All the while that he 

 was unlocking the boat and rowing across, I kept 

 shouting, " What's the trouble? Where are all the 

 people ? " But not until I had got aboard with my 

 pack and saddle, and we had started back, would he 



