He was not a demonstrative dog, as a general thing, but rather of a grave and serious turn of mind, and I never saw him take so much interest in anything before.

He finally struck out over the mountains, at a gait which we estimated at about two hundred and fifty miles an hour, and he is going yet.

This was about nine years ago.

We look for what is left of him along here every day.
A white man cannot drink the water of Mono Lake, for it is nearly pure lye.

It is said that the Indians in the vicinity drink it sometimes, though.