Nothing could have been more fortunate than our proceeding by sea.

On the fourth day we were lying to, at a quarter of a mile from the shore, exactly under the parallel of 39 deg.

north latitude, and at the southern point of a mountain called the Crooked Back-bone.

The Indians first landed in a small canoe we had provided ourselves with, to see if the coast was clear; and in the evening the schooner was far on her way back, while we were digging a cachette to conceal the baggage, which we could not carry.

Even my saddle was wrapped up in a piece of canvas, and deposited in a deep bed of shale.