We passed a cattle man working at a ferry, who had just
taken some stock across, which other men had driven on ahead. He was
busy, so we did not interrupt him, merely calling to him from the
boats, drifting meanwhile with the current. Soon we saw him riding
down the shore and waited for him to catch up. He invited us to camp
with him that evening, remarking that he had "just killed a beef." We
thanked him, but declined, as it was early and we had only travelled a
short distance that day. We chatted awhile, and he told us to look out
for rapids ahead. He was rather surprised when he learned that we had
started at Green River, Wyoming, and had already come through a few
rapids.
"Where are you going to stop?" he then asked.
On being told that our destination was Needles, California, he threw
up his hands with an expressive gesture, then added soberly, "Well,
boys, I sure wish you luck," and rode back to his camp.
We had difficulty in making a suitable landing that evening, as the
high water had deposited great quantities of black mud over
everything, making it very disagreeable when we left the boats. We
finally found a place with less mud to wade through than on most of
the banks seen, and tied up to the roots of a tree.
While lying in our beds that night looking at the starlit sky--such a
sky as is found only on these high plateaus--we discovered a comet
directly above us. An astronomer would have enjoyed our opportunities
for observing the heavens.
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