Next morning one of the deer was gone! I supposed the
Indians had found us out and stolen it; but when I looked for tracks I
found the thief had been a California lion. I tracked him two or three
hundred yards, but he had walked off with the deer so easily, I thought
he might keep it. That afternoon I went down to kill another deer, but
when I reached a point from which I could see down to the river, I saw
the smoke of an Indian camp. I was afraid to shoot for fear the Indians
would hear the gun, and finding out we were there, would come up and
give us trouble. I started back, and when in sight of camp I sat down on
a log to rest. While sitting there I saw three Indians coming up the
hill. I sat still to see what they would do. They came up to within
sight of the camp, and all crawled up behind a large sugar-pine tree,
and sat there watching the camp. I did not like their movements, so
thought I would give them a scare. I leveled the old gun at the tree,
about six feet above their heads, and fired away. They got away from
there faster than they came, and I never saw them afterwards."
"On the fifth day after the men left, three of them came back to the
camp. They informed me they had been three days in traveling from Mule
Springs to Bear Valley, a distance of twelve miles. These three had
found it impossible to stand the journey, but the other seven had
started on from Bear Valley.
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