When we last checked in with Mr. Johnson, he was leaving Wells, Nevada.
“On the morning of the 14th [of September 1882], I left Wells. About eight o’clock I reached Cedar station. This is simply an accommodation station for the drawers of wood; on my right there is cedar timber in abundance. So far my trail has been good but hilly, the surrounding country rolling; no more alkalic deserts for the present. …
“At Wells I was informed that at Independence I should find grass in abundance. On our arrival I found some grass, but more cattle than grass. There was a large meadow fenced with wire, and when we came to this fence I stopped. The trail had been fenced in. I turned sharp to my right and crossed the railroad, going on until we came to a small creek. Before crossing, I looked around and saw a herd of cattle rushing after me, and we were soon surrounded by them. I should think there were seventy-five of them. I was a little frightened, so was the cow, but the horse was not. I took the dog out of the wagon and set it at the cattle, which made them scamper away. Then I crossed the creek over a plank bridge and followed the trail; in fact, the road, as money had evidently been expended on it. I went on, leaving the railroad on my left, and in front a high bluff or mountain range. I saw that I was leaving the railroad to my left, and supposed the track was obliged to go round the other side of this mountain and my trail would come on it again, so continued onward.
“The sun was fast going down. I crowded along as the day was getting darker and I could see no houses, but to my right there was a light. I think the horse saw this, for as soon as the horse came to the trail she took it, and after traveling about forty rods we came to a log cabin. Two men were standing in front, to whom I said, ‘Good evening, gentlemen.’ ‘Good evening, stranger.’ ‘I am traveling east. Am I on my right road to Ferrice?’ ‘You are not; you are from the west, I suppose, as you answer to the description of the man that is traveling from California to Massachusetts. When you were at the creek near the railroad, you should have taken the trail to the depot, this side of the bridge.’ ‘Must I turn back?’ ‘Yes, you will have to return to the depot.’ ‘Can I stay here tonight? I see you have hay and I would like some for my cattle.’ ‘Yes, you can have all the hay you wish, and I will not charge you a cent.’ ‘I carry grain, and when not able to find grass or hay, I fall back on grain.’ ‘There is the hay, help yourself to what you want; down there a few rods, you will find water, and good at that.’
“Taking my basket to the cabin I asked permission to make some coffee. ‘Yes, if you like, but, stranger, you can take some supper with me.’ ‘Thank you, I have plenty to eat, as I carry tea, coffee, sugar and milk.’ ‘I see you have a fine-looking cow. Does she give milk?’ ‘She does. I will milk her and you can have the milk; it may be a luxury to you.’
“At five o’clock on the morning of the 15th, I left Cabin Ranch for a return to Independence station. My taking the wrong trail had made fourteen miles of extra travel.”
The Slower Road 