Shasta are in distinct sight.

At this time the atmosphere is smoky with forest fires and the burning of the tules in the Sacramento and other interior valleys, hence our view is not a clear one.
It did not take us long to reach the old stage-station in the Little American Valley.

Here Greek George--he was never known by any other name--had a station, only the charred logs remaining to tell of some irreverent sheep-herder or Indian who had no regard for historic landmarks.

The pile of rocks which remain denote the presence of the chimney.

When the new stage-road was built and travel over this road--always very slim and precarious--completely declined, Greek George removed, but his log hotel and bunk-house remained until a few years ago.
We lunch by the side of the old chimney and ruminate over the scenes that may have transpired here in those early days.
On our way back we pass the stumps of two large firs which were undoubtedly cut down to supply George's houses with shakes.