36 THE GEYSERS OF PLUTON RIVER, 
At noon, having been five hours in the saddle, we 
stopped to rest ourselves, as well as our animals, on 
one of the elevated spurs, from which we had a grand 
view of avast stretch of country towards the coast. 
Some ten or fifteen miles distant lay Russian River, 
winding its way along a beautiful valley, bounded by a 
succession of hills; and beyond this rose the coast range 
of mountains. While the animals were grazing, I took 
a sketch of this enchanting spot. 
Pursuing our journey still over hills and through 
ravines; forcing our way among the thorny chapporal 
and thickets;—now winding along the side of a steep 
hill, where a single misstep would throw horse and 
rider some hundred feet below, and now leading our 
frightened animals up some precipitous ascent where 
it was unsafe to ride them, we at length reached the 
summit of the mountain beyond. From this elevated 
point the view was grand beyond description. On the 
east, far in the distance, the horizon was bounded by 
the snow-capped summits of the Sierra Nevada, form- 
ing a well marked line with the deep blue of the ho- 
rizon. Nearer, and on every side, lay mountains 
of every variety of form; some rugged and bare, 
others covered with a deep Alpine foliage, while 
others again of less height, from their yellow hue, 
seemed clothed with the rich verdure of wild oats. 
Four or five miles distant, in an opening surrounded 
by rugged mountains, lay Clear Lake. 
After following the summit we were now on, for 
a couple of miles, we began to descend again into the 
deep gorge, through which runs Pluton River, on whose 
banks are the volcanic phenomena and geysers of 
