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Updated: May 3, 2025
The first hush of the deserted camp-ground was lost in the songs of returning birds. Captain Jewett, his majestic length blanket-bound from brow to heel as trimly as a bale, had been laid under ground, and the Harpers stood in prayer at the grave's head and foot with hats on for their journey.
"Who?" inquired Seguin, running forward in haste. "The Indians, master; the Indians!" "You are mad! Where did you see them?" "In the camp, master. Look yonder!" I pressed forward with Seguin to the rocks that lay along the entrance of the defile. We looked cautiously over. A singular sight met our eyes. The camp-ground was lying as the Indians had left it.
Mrs. Miller brought Edwin his clean clothes that she had so carefully mended, and said: "On the camp-ground, Edwin, you will find a large boarding-tent. There you can buy your meals, and there will be some place given you to sleep at night. Of course, you can do as you like, but I wouldn't take along anything that I didn't need, for bundles will only be in your way."
Kunz was telling me that the camp-meeting that is to be held on the camp-ground before long is for the purpose of getting people converted and that the work can be done in a week's time. I should like to go to that meeting, but I hate to leave you, for I know how much work there is to be done just now. But I feel that I must get converted as soon as I can, for I don't know how soon I may die.
The muffled groan of the round camp-ground is unbearable. With my face hid in the folds of my blanket, I run with the crowd toward the open place in the outer circle of our village. In a moment the two long files of solemn-faced people mark the path of the public trial. Ah! I see strong men trying to lead the lassoed pony, pitching and rearing, with white foam flying from his mouth.
There was some difficulty in getting the wagon over the field, and there were fences to be taken down to allow of its passage; but we overcame all obstacles, and reached the camp-ground without breaking so much as a teacup. Old John helped me pitch the tent, and as neither of us understood the matter very well, it took us some time.
Presently we are following a bright little brook, crossing and recrossing it as it leads us toward our camp-ground. There are the tents, standing in a line on the flowery bank of the brook, across the water from the trail. A few steps lower down there is a well-built stone basin with a copious spring gushing into it from the hillside under an arched roof.
If you wish to spend two days on the Lyell trip you will find a good camp-ground on the east side of the river, about a mile above a fine cascade that comes down over the canyon wall in telling style and makes good camp music. From here to the top of the mountains is usually an easy day's work.
On the other side, we could see the ground of their encampment of the night before. We could tell it by the fresh traces of animals and waggons debris of the morning's repast and half-burnt faggots of the tires that had cooked it, still sending up their clouds of oozing smoke. The stream at this point was fordable; and crossing over, we stood upon the deserted camp-ground.
On straw in the oven-like barracks, and under the few trees in the camp-ground, lay the flushed and panting soldiers, waiting wearily for that relief which the descending sun would bring.
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