We were to leave town quietly, after midnight, in two or three small parties, so as not to attract attention, and meet at dawn on the "divide"overlooking Mono Lake, eight or nine miles distant.We were to make no noise after starting, and not speak above a whisper under any circumstances.It was believed that for once Whiteman's presence was unknown in the town and his expedition unsuspected.Our conclave broke up at nine o'clock, and we set about our preparation diligently and with profound secrecy.At eleven o'clock we saddled our horses, hitched them with their long riatas (or lassos), and then brought out a side of bacon, a sack of beans, a small sack of coffee, some sugar, a hundred pounds of flour in sacks, some tin cups and a coffee pot, frying pan and some few other necessary articles.All these things were "packed" on the back of a led horse--and whoever has not been taught, by a Spanish adept, to pack an animal, let him never hope to do the thing by natural smartness.That is impossible.Higbie had had some experience, but was not perfect.He put on the pack saddle (a thing like a saw-buck), piled the property on it and then wound a rope all over and about it and under it, "every which way," taking a hitch in it every now and then, and occasionally surging back on it till the horse's sides sunk in and he gasped for breath--but every time the lashings grew tight in one place they loosened in another.
We never did get the load tight all over, but we got it so that it would do, after a fashion, and then we started, in single file, close order, and without a word.It was a dark night.We kept the middle of the road, and proceeded in a slow walk past the rows of cabins, and whenever a miner came to his door I trembled for fear the light would shine on us an excite curiosity.But nothing happened.We began the long winding ascent of the canyon, toward the "divide," and presently the cabins began to grow infrequent, and the intervals between them wider and wider, and then I began to breathe tolerably freely and feel less like a thief and a murderer.I was in the rear, leading the pack horse.As the ascent grew steeper he grew proportionately less satisfied with his cargo, and began to pull back on his riata occasionally and delay progress.My comrades were passing out of sight in the gloom.I was getting anxious.I coaxed and bullied the pack horse till I presently got him into a trot, and then the tin cups and pans strung about his person frightened him and he ran.
His riata was wound around the pummel of my saddle, and so, as he went by he dragged me from my horse and the two animals traveled briskly on without me.But I was not alone--the loosened cargo tumbled overboard from the pack horse and fell close to me.It was abreast of almost the last cabin.
A miner came out and said:
"Hello!"
I was thirty steps from him, and knew he could not see me, it was so very dark in the shadow of the mountain.So I lay still.Another head appeared in the light of the cabin door, and presently the two men walked toward me.They stopped within ten steps of me, and one said:
"Sh! Listen."
I could not have been in a more distressed state if I had been escaping justice with a price on my head.Then the miners appeared to sit down on a boulder, though I could not see them distinctly enough to be very sure what they did.One said:
"I heard a noise, as plain as I ever heard anything.It seemed to be about there--"A stone whizzed by my head.I flattened myself out in the dust like a postage stamp, and thought to myself if he mended his aim ever so little he would probably hear another noise.In my heart, now, I execrated secret expeditions.I promised myself that this should be my last, though the Sierras were ribbed with cement veins.Then one of the men said:
"I'll tell you what! Welch knew what he was talking about when he said he saw Whiteman to-day.I heard horses--that was the noise.I am going down to Welch's, right away."They left and I was glad.I did not care whither they went, so they went.I was willing they should visit Welch, and the sooner the better.
As soon as they closed their cabin door my comrades emerged from the gloom; they had caught the horses and were waiting for a clear coast again.We remounted the cargo on the pack horse and got under way, and as day broke we reached the "divide" and joined Van Dorn.Then we journeyed down into the valley of the Lake, and feeling secure, we halted to cook breakfast, for we were tired and sleepy and hungry.Three hours later the rest of the population filed over the "divide" in a long procession, and drifted off out of sight around the borders of the Lake!
Whether or not my accident had produced this result we never knew, but at least one thing was certain--the secret was out and Whiteman would not enter upon a search for the cement mine this time.We were filled with chagrin.
We held a council and decided to make the best of our misfortune and enjoy a week's holiday on the borders of the curious Lake.Mono, it is sometimes called, and sometimes the "Dead Sea of California." It is one of the strangest freaks of Nature to be found in any land, but it is hardly ever mentioned in print and very seldom visited, because it lies away off the usual routes of travel and besides is so difficult to get at that only men content to endure the roughest life will consent to take upon themselves the discomforts of such a trip.On the morning of our second day, we traveled around to a remote and particularly wild spot on the borders of the Lake, where a stream of fresh, ice-cold water entered it from the mountain side, and then we went regularly into camp.We hired a large boat and two shot-guns from a lonely ranchman who lived some ten miles further on, and made ready for comfort and recreation.
We soon got thoroughly acquainted with the Lake and all its peculiarities.
