… continued from yesterday …

“It was not very long before I was at the top of the mountain; there was a fine landscape before me. To my right I could see a long distance, a vast plain, nothing to hinder or obstruct my view. Some smoke in the distance attracted my attention; it was from an engine and was traveling from me, as it gradually went out of sight. I pulled from my box a map of the Central Pacific Railroad, and found that it was the express train from Palisade to Eureka. I drove down the mountain to its base and came to a trail that led to my right. I concluded this trail [would take] me to Palisade, while my left led to Carlin, which I took. I traveled up grade about a mile to the canyon; the first of the mile was good, but the latter hard and rough. I was obliged to stop on coming to a bad washout and said to the horse, ‘Fanny, what do you think of this? We can’t get over this ditch, it is too big!’ I left my team and went on to see in what condition was the remainder of the canyon. Should it prove as bad or worse, I would not attempt its pasage, but return and go to Palisade. I did not find anything worse; on my left I found water that evidently came from the Emigrant Springs, which are situated at the head of the canyon, which was as far as I went. I turned back to where I had left my outfit, and found that they had got other company.

“They had been joined by a band of gypsies, with two large covered wagons, drawn by four horses each. They saluted me as I came up, saying ‘Stranger, you all alone?’ ‘I am not all alone; I have just received company from the west, two teams of gypsies.’ I remember[ed] passing these teams at Reno, some two weeks ago. ‘Well, stranger, how does it look to you?’ ‘To me, it looks rough and tough; when I came to this ditch I stopped and then made an inspection of the road to the springs, and find this the worst part.’ ‘Can we get through, or shall we have to go back and go by the way of Palisade?’ ‘Here is the worst place to get over, especially with your wagons, as they are much larger than mine. We can get across, but it will take some engineering; there are five of us, besides the women and children.’

“My plan was to take out the horses and lead them across the gulch, then slide the wagons into the gulch, running them up the opposite side of the bank as high as we could and lifting in the rear, drag the wagons out of the washout, which we did after considerable engineering, hard labor, and patience. Having done this successfully, the remainder of the canyone was only rough and stony. The gypsies said I had done them a great kindness and that I understood this business and must be a Yankee, and they asked where I was from. I answered that I was a Yankee, from California, and was going to Massachusetts. ‘We have heard often of the Yankees, but never saw one before; we are from California but our home is in Salt Lake City.’ ‘Then you are Mormons, I have often heard what horrid people they are. If you are Mormons, I would risk myself with them at any time.’ ‘You need not be afraid of us, and we shall remember this canyon. We have some good whiskey in our wagon, which I think was made for this time and occasion. Will you have a taste?’ ‘Well, I seldom ever take any, but if you wish me, I will at this time and occasion. Should I ever make a record of this, which I think I shall at some future time, and you happen to see it, you will remember the whole story. It is getting late, we must be going on further.’ So we moved on, I leading the van; with my light team I could travel faster than they with their large, top-heavy wagons, which would rock to and fro like a ship at sea.

“It was about half-past ten o’clock when we got to the washout and it was three o’clock as we left. When we reached the springs just out of the canyon, we camped for dinner. After eating and resting we again moved on and gained the top of the mountain. We were delighted with the view, the surroundings were grand and imposing. We reached Carlin just as the sun was setting from our view.”