M'CLOUD' S FORK, 55 
The river is followed on the opposite bank by a heavy pack-trail leading to Yreka; but it 
soon leaves the main river, and follows the course of an affluent from the north, which has 
been generally mistaken for the Sacramento itself. It is, however, but a small stream com- 
pared with the main river, to which the name of Pitt has been given. Six miles above the 
mouth of this stream we came to the mouth of McCloud’s fork, a larger stream than the former, 
also entering the Sacramento from the north. Salmon abound in this stream, and in the Sac- 
ramento, but far more abundantly below this junction than above it. The stream was lined 
with Indians, many of whom were entirely naked, while others were provided with a single 
garment, or had their faces blackened with tar in mourning for their friends—the tribe having 
been recently severely punished by the neighboring miners and settlers, whose friends had been 
killed by them. From McCloud’s fork, two of them accompanied us to our evening camp, 5.25 
miles above, which we reached at dark, drenched with perspiration, our animals trembling with 
heat and fatigue. At this point there is, on the south side of the river, a small grassy prairie 
a few hundred yards wide, and a ferry is established by a Mr. Dribblesby for the use of a 
mining town, three miles to the north, called Pittsburg. The river, for a mile opposite this 
prairie, flows with a gentle, unbroken current; but at its foot makes a short bend, and desends 
rapidly over its rocky bed. I purchased from one of the Indian women, to-day, a girdle of the 
size of an ordinary rope, made entirely of human hair. Day's march, 24 miles. 
July 17.—We rode on the bank of the river, this morning, for two miles to Silverthorn's 
ferry, and were then driven high up the mountain to avoid deep ravines, and to pass around 
ledges and masses of fallen rocks found at a few points—the mountains dividing the valley of 
Cow creek, which we occasionally overlooked at a distance, from the. river immediately below 
us. The character of the river was the same to-day as yesterday, curving among the high hills 
and mountains. The timber of the forests was also the same, and the character of the hard, 
dark, trachytic rocks unchanged. Indian smokes curled upwards from every part of the mount- 
ains where they were engaged in burning the grass to catch grasshoppers, upon which they 
feed, regarding them as a great delicacy. We encamped on a small flat, 200 yards wide and 
a mile long, on the river bank, 10.50 miles above our morning camp. From the most reliable 
information we could gain from persons who have lived on the river for two or three years past, 
the amount of snow which falls upon the higher parts of the mountains is large; but upon the 
river itself it is small, never exceeding four or five inches in depth. They also state, that upon 
the river banks, which are completely sheltered from the winds, it never accumulates in drifts, 
being deposited on the sheltered sides of the mountains long before reaching the stream. 
They state, also, that the river is never choked up with ice, but that it rises ten feet above its 
general level in times of great freshets. : plar 
July 18.—Clambering along the mountain sides, we again returned to the river 4.70 miles 
above our morning camp; and in passing a rocky point several mules were crowded into it, 
and swam with their packs to the opposite bank. And in addition to previous difficulties 
encountered in following the river banks, it was obstructed by dense thickets of bushes and fallen 
trees lying at right angles to our path. But to ascend the mountain sides, and pass along 
where we could observe the character of the river, was also very difficult, and several of our 
animals repeatedly lost their footing and rolled back hundreds of feet, in passing the steepest 
points. We were constantly in positions to overlook the river, but did not again descend to it 
during the day, its character remaining entirely the same. The mountains, however, became 
higher, and the ravines longer. We encamped, after a march of but 11 miles, at the head of 
a ravine, where we found a small spring and a little grass in the open pine and oak forest. 
July 19.—We returned again to the edge of the mountains overlooking the river, and at 
9 o’clock a. m. again descended to it, hoping to be able to follow it; but we here found it more 
confined by rocky ledges than in any other part of its course, the ledges being, at some points, 
quite vertical on alternate sides of the river. The ravines, too, were more rocky and precipitous 
than before, and we were forced, after examining it, to retrace our steps for nearly a mile, when 
