Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1871-01-20
A WINTER NIGHTS RIDE in THE
SIERRA.

My medical friend had puffed' away at
his cigar for some minutes in silence;
and then, throwing away the stump,
quietly began:
1t was in the winter of 186S-69, when
[ had just been placed in charge of a
division near the summit of the Sierra
Nevada, on the then halffinishe Centrald
Pacific Railroad. After long days ride,
| came back to the boarding house at ten
o'clock in the evening, and was told that
a messenger had been there from Camp
No., with request that | should lose
no time in hurrying over there to attend
upon John Smith, who was in a very
critical condition. The messenger had
been very urgent, and it was evidently
a case of life and death-nothing less.
I took few moments to consides. / was
tired out and wanted sleep badly, but [
could, on pinch, 60 "a little further
without breaking down entirely.
The moon would be up at III o'clock,
and the night was still and clear, though
the snow had only just ceased falling
and was from five to six feet on a level,
if you can use the expression properly
where there is nothing like level to be
found, and the road-or trails, rather
are obliterated by the drifts. | inquired
the location of Camp No.. 1t was
twelve miles away, and directly over a
ridge or spur of the mountains. My own
horse could not stand the trip, but a big
lubber of a cart-horse, that they said was
a good saddle-horse, was offered me. |
got supper, put on dry socks, and an ex-
ira pair of fur-lined over-boots, and just
before midnight was in the saddle and
off.
A good saddle-horse The brute be-
longed to the nightmare family, and his
mother must have taken special pride
in him. Great heavens, what q gait He
had travelled so long in the cart that the
steady jolt had communicated itself to
his spine and became chronic. AT every
step he ierked his back up, as if expect
ing to feel the girth-strap strike him
underneath, and neither curses nor
blows would induce him for a moment to
recognize the fact that he was out Of the
shafts, and abandon his eternal hypty-
hop. When | started out there were hard
Jumps in the saddle as large as chest
nuts; before the twelve miles were half
completed the Jumps had grown to the
size of paving stones, and awfully sharp
edged and rasping. The snow which had
Just fallen filled the trail, but the old
snow underneath being hard packed,
and the trees along the route well blazed,
had no difficulty in keeping in the
right track most of the time.
But when about three miles from my
destination, as near as | could guess,
clouds obscured the moon for a long
time and lost the road. | kept on as
knew how, guessing at the location OF
Camp No., and after rolling down the
steep sides of the ravine, and working
half an hour to get old Jerky back upon
the ridge, filling my overshoes with
snow, fairly exhausting myself in fioun-
dering through the drifts,sI was reward
ed with the sight of lights in some cab
ins half mile away. No doubt that
this was Camp No., | rounded a small
canon, worked my way over point OF
rocks, Jerky stumbled and falling re-
peatedly, and reached the cabins at II
o'clock
The lights had disappeared. "Halloo
the house, there!" No answer. "Halloo
the house p louder and longer than be-
fore. A panel in the side of the nearest
cabin opened slowly and cautiously, and
after time enough had elapsed to allow
of critical examination of the party
outside, a..voice demanded: " Who you,
John? What you wantee catchee here?'
1t was a Chinese wood-cutter's camp,
and there was not white man about
the place.
The Johns told me that there was 3
camp of white men on the other side of
the ravine I had just crossed, and per-
haps half mile further up the noun
tain; they thought it might be Camp
humble.
Half an hours fioundering through
the snow brought me back to the point
where | had sighted the lights, and soon
after A. M. reached the white mems
camp. I reused the inmates more easily
here, as they were indulging in friend
ly game "pitch " or "draw that
being Saturday highland had not re-
tired to their virtuous hunks. No, that
was not Camp No., my informer told