Year: 1874

of the American river. Ny partner in
the claim was an old man from Massa-
chusetts, named Robert Weston, fa-
miliarly called by everybody " Uncle
Bob"-a forty-niner, and a very good
kind of a man, but whose weakness it
was to have an inordinate love of
''seven-up for the drinks" to which he
yielded whenever he had accumulated
little dust. We cabined together in
a log cabin adjacent to our claim. Un-
Gle Bob was a good man to cabin with
always agreeable and pleasant, and
willing to do his share of the chores
incident to keeping house. He would
sweep out, get in the firewood, and fry
meat, but would never attempt to bake
bread-the latter feat transcending the
range of his culinary accomplishments.
AS for myself, knew nothing whatever
of the science of cookery, but, unlike
| Uncle Bob, was not afraid to "try it
lick, hit or miss" The first week we
cabined together we used crackers,
from old Sax's store in Volcanoville
but, on Saturday morning, yielding to
Uncle Bob's persuasions, determined
to try to make some bread.


We had an old cook-stove and tin
reflector in our cabin, but neither of
these suited exactly. L wanted to bake
enough bread in one batch to last us
week, SO selected and cleaned out an
old Dutch oven of about one bushel
capacity in which to try my experiment.
I mixed enough dough to fill the oven
level full putting into the mass little
of everything had ever heard of being
put into bread-a little saleratus, lit
tie cream Of tartar, salt, hop juice, half
dozen boiled potatoes, AMI probably
some other ingredients which I do not
not exactly remember now. Filling the
oven with the dough, I put the lid on
and set it away to rise, and we went out
to work on the claim, to clean up the
past weeks run. When we came in at
noon, on lifting the lid of the oven [
perceived that the dough, instead of
rising as I had expected it to. had sunk
about two inches. Not wishing it to
sink any lower, raised fire and fixed
it at that pont. When the loaf was
cooked enough turned it out, and q
fine looking lot of bread it was.


Leaving the loaf lying on the table,
which stood against the window, and
through which the sun shone all day
long, we shut up the cabin and went
over to Georgetown to dispose of some
dust and get q square meal or two at a
hotel. We did not return to our cabin
till past noon on Monday, and we were
pretty we'll tired out and hungry when
we got there, the truthfulness of which
can be attested by any one who has
ever walked the trail from Georgetown
to Volcanoville. AS we neared the
house, Uncle Bob remarked that
"Thank fortune we had oceans of good
bread" Uncle Bob's frying-pan soon
commenced popping and swapping
pretty lively, and laid the table, and
taking common table-knife, [ essayed
to cut off some slices of bread but
imagine my surprise when on drawing
the knife across the loaf l perceived
that it did not even make mark on its
crust, whilst the edge of the knife was
curled over from hilt to point. Throw
ing the "cheap John" knife contemptu-
ousl ly aside, drew from its scabbard a
very fine Bowie knife, blade of Damas-
Gus steel, with solid silver handle, much
valued as gift from an absent friend,
and went for that loaf of bread The
encounter was short, sharp, and deci-
sive-the Damascus blade swapping off
close to the handle, and the loaf of
bread falling on the floor, badly mash
ing my toes. Enraged beyond endur-
ance, l seized good Collins axe which
lay in a corner of the cabin, and dealt
the loaf tremendous blow. The axe
partly glanced on the loaf, breaking out
the steel slick and smooth, and the loaf
rebounding with terrific violence
against the low clapboard roof, knocked
a hole through it, and rolled down the
hill into the thicket of scrubby manzan-
ita bushes which lined the sides of the
ravine. We did not try to recover that
loaf, but I next tried my hand on
"slapjacks," which we could cut, and
did eat.


But the strangest part of the history
of that loaf of bread is yet to be told.


In the winter of 80, just about eight
years after theloaf of bread disappeared
in the manzanita bushes, two men,
named Fred Haws and Jim McCusick,
(the latter at present State Senatorfrom
Ell Dorado county, being rather short
of spondulicks, were informed by an
old resident of that part of the county,
that the ravine of which have spoken
had paid ten dollars per day per hand
for gulching up to a certain place a
little below the old cabin which Uncle
Bob and myself had occupied in days
gone by, but had paid nothing above
that point. His inference was that the
ravine cut lead running at right
angles with it, and that prospect cut
in it's side at that point would develop
morepay. Haws and McCusick accord
ingly turned on good sluice head of
water, and went to work, and soon came
across what they supposed to be large
and very heavy washed gravelstone-a
certain indication Of rich pay in those
mines. Laying the stone aside for fu-
ture inspection, Haws and McCusick
went to work with renewed hope, and
did find very snug sum of gold-more
than sufficient to pay water, and grub
bills, and wages.


But the lead so On gave out, and they
had leisure to inspect the belongings
of their defunct claim. The peculiar
shape OF that particular gravelstone at.
tracted their attention. 1t was much
heavier than any substance which either
of them had ever handled before, and
they were amazed to find their most
pertinacious attempts to pick 1T resulted
only in ruin to the pick-one of Sulli
vans best make, genuine cast steel, and
exquisitely tempered. They had found
n wonderful curiosity. Henry Singer
land stepped it in forty-rod whisky, ant
as his whisky was known to contain {