MOUNTAIN TRAIL. 367 



unoffending travellers ; upon which the entire tribe is 

 said to have been exterminated by the Americans. 



On quittino- Yosemite I entered upon a most tedious, 

 and at times dangerous, journey into the Sierra Nevada 

 to visit one or two of the larger gold mines of the dis- 

 trict. Having been told that I should find nothing 

 better than a mountain trail to guide me, I had taken 

 the precaution of hiring a sure-footed pony, which at 

 first carried me with tolerable ease, although there was 

 hardly space enough for his feet, but when we got to a 

 nasty precipice the poor animal suddenly stopped and 

 began to show signs of distress. Once in the saddle, how- 

 ever, there was no possibility of dismounting, and it 

 took several minutes coaxing, which seemed hours 

 to me, before I could get him to move on. I had done 

 well in trusting to my nunble-footed quadruped, for it is 

 much more difficult to lead a horse under such circum- 

 stances, as he invariably takes to backing, unless the 

 rider's heel is at hand to keep him steady. Late in 

 the afternoon we reached the first habitation seen that 

 day, a wretched wooden hovel, at the foot of a bridge, 

 in a wild, picturesque spot. Mrs. M'Cann, an old Irish 

 woman, not over clean, bade us welcome, and did her 

 best to provide us with shelter until the following 

 morning. Her beds were good, and the sunple food, 



