82  The  History  of  Calif omian  Borax.     { Am-FeT^87arm- 
"  busted"  being  a  convertible  term  fur  ruined,  and  derived  probably 
from  "  bursted,"  or  broken  up.  I  was  also  informed  that  on  some 
parts  of  the  journey,  hay  was  worth  £50  per  ton,  and  water  two  shil- 
lings per  bucket,  and  that  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  walk,  and 
much  safer.  Adapting  myself  to  the  circumstances  I  started  in  my 
disguise  and  travelled  with  a  mule  team  over  a  very  rough  country  at 
the  rate  of  from  12  to  14  miles  per  day,  and  arrived  at  length,  with- 
out any  remarkable  adventure,  at  the  shanty  kept  by  Jim  Bridger, 
some  42  miles  from  the  Slate  Range,  and  which  is  situated  on  the 
main  road  to  Cerre  Gorda,  a  wild  looking  spot,  without  any  other 
road,  the  country  being  covered  with  the  oleaginous  plant  known  as 
greasewood,  and  the  only  animal  life  being  represented  by  the  dismal 
owl  and  the  deadly  rattlesnake!  Not  a  very  pleasant  prospect,  I 
thought,  but  I  afterwards  found  when  sleeping  out  in  this  part  of  the 
country  that  by  surrounding  myself  with  the  ashes  of  a  greasewood 
fire  or  a  horsehair  rope,  that  as  far  as  the  rattlesnakes  were  concerned 
there  was  no  danger,  as  these  reptiles,  strangely  enough,  will  never 
cross  the  ashes  of  a  greasewood  plant,  or  a  rope  made  of  horsehair. 
While  as  to  the  owl  his  existence  was  naturally  a  pure  matter  of 
indifference  to  me,  so  far  as  my  comfort  was  concerned. 
Rather  a  curious  incident  occured  to  me  while  staying  at  Jim 
Bridgets :  a  pioneer  and  prospector  had  come  from  the  mountains  to 
get  a  few  supplies  from  the  store,  when  he  saw  me  sitting  on  a  bench 
outside,  and  after  a  few  words  had  passed,  he  remarked,  "  Why  you 
are  from  the  Old  Country,  and  pretty  green  too  !  whatever  brings  you 
into  a  country  like  this?  You  are  no  miner !  Have.you  been  writ- 
ing somebody's  name  on  a  bit  of  paper,  or  done  some  act  as  you're 
afraid  of  the  Sheriff;  or  are  you  on  the  wrong  side  with  the  other 
sex  ?  "  My  reply  was  that  I  was  all  right  on  these  points,  and  had 
come  out  here  prospecting  for  borax.  He  at  once  begged  me  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  He  said,  "There  is  plenty  of  it,  but  no  one 
knows  what  it's  good  for."  He  had  been  down  to  Death  Valley, 
and  to  the  foot  of  the  hills  of  the  Slate  Range,  through  Owen's  Val- 
ley, and  to  Mono  Lake,  and  he  gave  me  much  information  about  this 
"howling  wilderness." 
After  a  short  stay  at  Jim  Bridger's  shanty  I  again  proceeded,  steer- 
ing for  the  Foot  Hills,  some  22  miles  from  the  shanty,  then  onward 
through  a  great  canon,  or  divide,  partly  covered  with  salt,  on  emerging 
from  which  I  found  myself  on  the  border  of  the  most  important  borax 
