We left Dayton at two o'clock. Carson City lay six miles away, close to the Sierra Nevadas, whose towering heights, on the Nevada side, rise abruptly from the plain. That afternoon's journey was the last we were to experience through the monotonous chaparral.

When we trailed into Carson, the sun had gone down behind the forest-covered mountains, leaving me a little less than thirteen days in which to reach San Francisco.

The leading hotel was pointed out to me, and a cheering crowd followed us there and called for a speech from me. While unstrapping our traps for the porter to take, we men answered inquiries about the trip, then conducted our animals to a stable, to be cared for.

I was glad to note that they were generally in good condition, although Damfino's shoulders were somewhat tender from the rubbing of the pack-saddle, as the result of her running away. Dr. Benton, at the stable, after dressing her shoulders, showed me the famous watch bequeathed to him by Hank Monk, the clever stage-driver of early days, to whom it was presented for having driven Horace Greeley over the pass to Placerville, in time to keep his lecture engagement.

I had just registered at the hotel, and was chatting with the group of men crowded round me, when a generous, good-natured gentleman edged through the cordon and grasped my hand.

"I'm going to take charge of you," he said, with a comical wink of the eye; "you are my guest while in town."

The next moment I found myself launched in an offhand lecture on my travels. And I should have talked myself hoarse had not my host led me out to his carriage. After telling the landlord to make Coonskin comfortable, I asked who the gentleman was who had taken me in custody.

"Why, he's Sam D——s; you've heard of Sam, of course—editor, writer and humorist—famous story-teller—the biggest 'josher' on earth——." But that was enough. I fled.

Indeed, Sam's reputation was known to me long before I arrived on his stamping ground. I leaped into the buggy, and we drove for his country home.

"Keep yer hand on yer pocket-book!" shouted one of my host's intimates; whereupon Sam turned to me with affected seriousness and observed, "Good advice. But I took the precaution to leave my money and watch at the office. I heard of your capture for donkey-stealing back in Iowa."

On the drive my host recalled many happenings of the golden days of the Comstock, which made me lose all reckoning of the present. Soon we had reached his ranch. When I met his family I was ready to believe some of his accounts of the practical jokes he claimed to have played on his fellows. I was somewhat disconcerted when he introduced me to his wife as a noted "road agent"—an old friend of his who had wavered from the path of rectitude—whom he desired to feed and hide from the sheriff's possè, hot on his trail. But I was amused when his good wife, who of all would be expected to know him best, apparently took his word for granted, and, regarding me with nervous suspicion, started to get me a quick lunch. But Sam delayed her a moment.

"Dan wants to entrust this $25,000 with me until he has eluded the possè," he said to his wife, taking my weighty saddle-bags and passing them to her. "There is no fire in the front-room stove, is there? Might shove 'em in there." She accepted the trust so seriously that I laughed outright, and exploded the joke. My hostess chuckled good-naturedly, and said that most any woman might take me for a bandit. I did look disreputable.

Adjoining the ranch were a few acres owned by "Mrs. Langtry," and sold to her by Sam, so he said, but how he made the deal is too good a story to be injured by my telling. I was up early next morning. In spite of my host's urgent invitation to remain another day, I drove to town with Sam after breakfast. There I was shown several places of interest.

Dark and threatening clouds hung over the mountains and alarmed me. My friend cautioned me to hasten across, if I would avoid the storm. By two o'clock my outfit left Carson and began the ascent of the steep trail over the pass to Glenbrook, a lumber camp on the shore of Lake Tahoe. Dr. Benton advised me to telephone him from Glenbrook, if it snowed so hard as to endanger us before crossing the second summit, in which case he volunteered to dispatch at once a relief expedition, with horses to break the trail and render me a safe conduct beyond the snow belt. I shall always remember the veterinary's thoughtfulness. My friend Sam must have been interested in the plan.

As higher we climbed the steep ascent, the air became more damp and chilly, and the heavy clouds looked more ominous. We men were afoot, for my donkeys were burdened enough. Mac A'Rony and Cheese were favored, merely carrying the saddles and guns, for Cheese seemed to be quite worn out, and Mac, while sound and strong, was the one, if it be decreed that only one should survive, I wished to take through. The donkeys often stopped for breathing spells, and not until we neared the summit did they require urging to make the fatiguing climb.

By this time we were over our ankles in snow. The biting wind came down over the pass in aggressive sorties and volleyed blasts of cutting snow dust in our faces, nipping our ears and noses, and blinding us. By reason of the fast-falling flakes and the darkness, the donkeys often lost the trail, and the snow obscured the rocks over which we all continually stumbled and slipped.

At length, when we stood on the summit and looked back over that battle-ground, I think all of us took courage for the final conflict awaiting us on the next and higher pass.

We arrived at Glenbrook at eight o'clock and found cozy quarters for all. The storm having driven everybody indoors, the place looked coldly uncordial for a time; but as soon as its warm-hearted people were apprised of my arrival they hastened to welcome me. When provision had been made for the comfort of my animals, I returned with Coonskin to the hotel, where a hot supper had thoughtfully been provided for us. And there we recounted our adventures, which evidently afforded our auditors the keenest enjoyment.

Morning revealed a dreary prospect. The snow was a foot deep, and it was still falling thick and fast. My friends urged me to tarry until the storm had abated, but I set out, after an early breakfast, for Myer's Station, twenty miles away. There I hoped to find feed for us all, and, should the storm be over by that time, comfortable shelter for the night.

The trail followed the shore of beautiful Lake Tahoe—never more severely grand and picturesque than now—followed it many miles before it led into the majestic, white-clad forest. The snow fell incessantly, while the rays of the sun, peeping through its cold armor, either melted it into slush or softened it so as to "ball up" the donkeys' hoofs and render their tramp more difficult.

When we reached Myer's Station it was snowing harder than in the morning, so I resolved to rest an hour and to cross the pass that night. The solitary tavern first came into view through the dense snow-screen, not a hundred feet away. It was four o'clock. Then a barn loomed up beyond and across the trail, and I felt grateful. I had great confidence in Skates, Damfino and Coxey; Coonskin and I had ridden but a little that day, so that, if Mac A'Rony and Cheese could fortify themselves with plenty of grain, I had hopes of getting all five over the summit.

Alas! my hopes were soon shattered. There was neither grain nor hay to be had. The landlord explained that he didn't keep "no cattle." Even the pantry was depleted, but my host would find a bite for us men, and "boil" us some tea, which would have to suffice until the expected supplies arrived. They might be delayed by the storm until morning. Meanwhile we shouldn't starve. I didn't intend my animals should starve, either, but bought several loaves of bread and fed it to them.

"Don't think I am going to stay here over night," I said to the tavern-keeper.

"You don't mean to cross the summit in this storm!"

I nodded. At that moment a man stumbled in, accompanied by a frigid gust of wind, and, walking to the stove, stamped the snow off his high boots, unwound a tippet from his neck, and slapped his ice-covered hat against his limbs.

"Whose jackasses be them outside?" he inquired.

"Mine," I replied.

"Where ye bound with them?"

"Over the pass to Placerville."

The man laughed, then, looking sober, inquired, "Where yer from, may I ask?"

"New York," I said, nonchalantly.

"Not with them little burros?"

"With one of them."

"Je-ru-salem! I don't know but ye may cross with 'em!" he exclaimed, in astonishment. "But I doubt it. Jest fetched down my four horses—left the wagon up to the hubs in snow half-way up the trail—snow must be three foot deep on the summit. You'll leave your carcasses in the snow, if ye try it, I'm tellin' ye."

Said the proprietor, "If you will wait here till to-morrow, there'll be five hundred cattle cross the pass and break the trail for you."

"I go to-night," said I, "and will break the trail for the cattle."

I thanked both men for their kind caution, but said such impediments had stared me in the face ever since leaving New York, and never yet one of them proved to be an obstacle. As we moved off, the men stood in the hotel door, gaping in mute wonderment at my stubborn resolution.

Darkness gathered ere we began the ascent of the mountain. Slowly the donkeys climbed the slippery trail, Coonskin, upon my advice, walking beside Cheese and watching him with utmost concern. The snow scudded against our faces, although the mountain somewhat shielded us from the biting gale we had faced all day. The three stronger animals carrying the packs walked ahead, while close behind them struggled Cheese and Mac, supporting our saddles and lighter traps, we men encouraging them the while with kind words and allowing them a few moments' rest every time they stopped.

Soon I feared lest Cheese would give out. At length, when about one-third the summit was climbed, he stopped and deliberately lay down. I knew that meant his abandonment, then and there. We might induce him to climb a little further, but we might better free him at once; he would likely find his way back to the station. So we took off his saddle and bridle, cinched them on Mac, and, saying a sad farewell, hid our faces in our sleeves, and soon had climbed beyond his vision. It was no time to indulge in sentiment. Once or twice Mac, Cheese's oldest comrade, stopped and looked behind, then with a soft bray resumed the ascent; and from the distance at once came Cheese's response, causing my eyes to fill with tears. No two human beings could have shown more tender feelings at parting than did those two heroic little donks.

Finally we came to the abandoned wagon, half enveloped in whiteness. I had no idea of the hour, but it must have been eleven o'clock when my sturdy leader, Skates, began to stop for rest at every twenty paces.

An hour later we could make only ten feet headway with every undertaking. I was afraid another donkey would drop at any moment. Several times I thought we had reached the summit, when a turn of the Z trail showed a clear space, with Skates far in the lead, ploughing and dragging her burden through two feet of snow.

Suddenly, when we had all but reached the summit, as we after learned, Damfino fell with a groan. She was so strong and hardy, I had not anticipated her giving out. Coonskin thought she had slipped and broken a leg. We took off part of her pack, and at length succeeded in getting her on to her feet; but not far beyond she again fell, when, realizing it was from fatigue, we left her, with all the supplies on. We had no way to carry them, and I still had hopes of her resting out and trailing over after us.

It was now a question of life and death. Could I but get Mac A'Rony through, even by leaving all else behind, I should do so and fight to the bitter end. Mac was certainly a wonder. After thirty-eight hundred miles of travel, during a period of three hundred and thirty-odd days, he was chipper and nabbed at me mischievously as I kindly twisted his tail.

Eureka! At last we stood on the summit of that high Arctic pass of the snow-bound Sierras! Man and beast were ensconced in snow and ice, and my ears and face and hands and feet were numb; but I was too happy to feel any suffering. Could Cheese and Damfino have been with us then, I should have been jubilant.

The battle was won. I could now see myself, in my mind's eye, in company with Mac in Golden Gate Park, gazing out on the balmy Pacific. After a quarter hour's rest, we resumed the journey through the two and a half feet of snow, until, after several resting spells, we began gradually to descend. The air at once felt milder; the snow had ceased falling; as if crushed with defeat, the elements had retreated.

It must have been two in the morning when Coonskin, who was in advance beside Skates to check her impetuosity, shouted, "Helloa, Pod, I see a house!" I threw my hat in the air with delight. We had expected to have to wade through snow until daylight. Were we all to find a refuge in that half-buried cabin?

CHAPTER LV.
All down a toboggan slide

TOC

BY MAC A'RONY.

The supreme moment of my life had "arrove." Must have come on Skates. I had crossed the broad continent at last—all but a little toboggan-slide of one hundred and fifty miles, more or less, and that would be easy sailing. I felt boastful now. When Pod wasn't occupied in prodding me over the pass he was quoting "Hannibal Crossing the Alps" and other heroic adventurers, imagining his little exploit of the same class. Prof., old boy, just bear in mind that hobo Hannibal was not so fortunate as to have five gullible jackasses to help him.

The storm had abated. As I stood waist-deep in snow while the men-folks were trying to waken the sleepers of an uninhabited shanty, I looked back where we donks sang "One More Mountain to Cross" for the last time, and I gave three brays with a gusto.

Standing in snow or water taxes my patience. Coxey brayed to the men to "get a move on," but Skates and I amused ourselves by sucking icicles hanging from our bangs. Pod's courageous valet received first orders. He rode an avalanche bareback down the mountain and went through the door without knocking until he hit the other side of the shanty.

"Don't shoot, for heaven's sake, folks;" he yelled. No answer. "Beg thousand pardons, friends, but couldn't stop," he added. No answer. Then he picked himself up and called. "Ain't nobody livin' here? Speak up, I won't hurt you." No answer. The next thing that boy did was to find the lantern he had lost in the snow slide, and explore the place.

"The cabin's empty," he called presently.

"Any stove and fuel?" Pod asked.

"Yep," answered Coonskin, "and a hay tick, and-waow-w-w-w!!!—!—!—!—!—spook! Scat you!—and a gol blasted cat," he added. "Folks must've left just before the storm." Then to the dog he called, "Here, Don, sick'em—cats!" and Don sicked.

My elated master next ordered Skates to slide down that chute to the cabin, and she shooted. He hinted that Coxey and I would follow, but I wasn't so sure. Judging from Coonskin's experiment, it looked too swift for my blood. But when I witnessed Skates safely descend and heard Coxey's whisper, "Come on, Mac, show your nerve," I was bound to stay with it and follow suit.

We donks no sooner reached the door than Pod began to unpack us. It was no go. Knots and buckles, everything was frozen stiff; my saddle felt glued to my back.

"We must fire up, and thaw them out," said Pod, and he led us in doors. Coonskin converted some shelves into kindling, and soon the little stove was roaring like a coke oven. When we began to thaw, one by one the ropes and straps were unhitched, or cut, until we were all relieved of our burdens—and part of our avoirdupois.

Although the men had tramped almost all the way from Carson in order to spare us, our wrenching and twisting in climbing the slippery summits had loosened our saddles, which rubbed into our shoulders until we were badly galled. Our proud flesh had frozen to the icy blankets, and when Pod, while near the stove saw our conditions great tears melted in his eyes, and he rubbed my frosted nose, I suppose expecting me to purr. We got thawed out by three in the morning.

That small apartment depicted a busy scene. We donks were so cramped that we couldn't turn if we had tried. While Coonskin dried the bedding, the Prof found in the luggage a box of tar, and gave us a good plastering. Then he put us in the other room,—it was a two-room house,—and fed us the hay tick, and a wooden soap box for dessert, and bade us good-night.

I heard Coonskin mention something about supper, but Pod told him all the grub was cachéd in the snow over the summit and that Damfino carried the keys; there was, however, a possible chance of getting a bite later if he would go back for the supplies. Soon after I heard both men snoring.

As I recall the circumstance, I don't see how we three donks stood it, cramped up in that small room, eight long hours before the men got up. First we ate the hay tick; the hay went fast enough, but it took time to chew the tick. Then we gnawed soap box until dawn. The latter was savory, but rather tough, and had to be eaten slowly on account of the bones—nails, Pod called them—which would get into our teeth. Coxey happened to swallow one, and said he wouldn't lie down for a week for fear of puncturing himself. Every time one of us gnawed on the box Don barked, taking it to be mice. He lay under Coxey with one eye open, ready to vacate at a second's warning, for that donk pretended he was going to lie down every moment.

We breathed the air of that cell ten times over, and had begun on the eleventh course when the door opened. What a magnificent pair of spectacles was open to our eyes! The mountains on both sides of the canyon looked like great billows of a frozen sea, while the fir trees sticking out of the snow resembled the spars of sunken wrecks with their torn sails frozen to the yardarms.

Coonskin was up first. While dressing he happened to glance out of the window and his tell-tale exclamation caused Pod to leap out of bed.

"Well! In the name of Balaam, if there ain't Damfino!" he laughed.

"She's a nervy dame," observed the youth with satisfaction. "She knows the other donks are here, all right."

Curiosity led me to stick my head out of the door, and there, knee-deep in snow, stood the old girl, patiently waiting for an invite to our house party. Skates had to be taken up to pilot down the half-starved, half-frozen, timid refugee. Damfino slipped on the way but collected herself, and the "girls" whispered something to each other, which I could not catch, and laughed. I suppose it was a joke, so I got off an old one to Coxey, and he brayed with merriment. Then I told it to Pod, and he gave it to Coonskin, who snorted like a colt over a horse chestnut.

As soon as Damfino was unloaded the men got breakfast. The dishes washed and our galls redressed with tar and cotton wool, our shoulders were padded for the saddles, and we were packed for the journey. Two o'clock swung around before we got up that toboggan-slide. Once there, we stopped for wind, then began to plow snow toward Placerville.

It was a beautiful day, but the glare of the sun on the snow made us shed tears. Not a sound jarred the air, except the swish-swash of our pedals hewing away the snow, or an occasional asinine sneeze, or canine cough, the result of a night's exposure. At the steep and narrow turn where the stage driver nearly spilled Horace Greeley trying to take him through on pony-express time, I became interested, and the spot where Sawlog Johnson was crushed to death by a giant tree falling on his shadow riveted my attention for some time. I thought it a good place to rest; the trees were bent by the heavy snow and ice, and I knew lightning never struck twice in the same spot.

We reached Hart's shingle camp long after dark. Pod and I were cordially received and entertained. When about to resume travel next morning the drove of cattle which we were urged to wait for passed us. They had crossed the summit in quick time, of course, after we donks had broken the trail.

Now only small patches of snow dotted the roadside, and we had a muddy trail down to the Bridge house. The keeper gave Pod a round reception, and charged him an all-round sum. We left early next morning.

The scenery on that mountain trail was a thing to out-last a donkey's memory. One sheer cliff rising a thousand feet marks the site of a bold exploit. It is said that once upon a time Snowshoe Thompson, while out hunting above this cliff, was chased by a grizzly, and only escaped by leaping off the precipice and striking the frozen river on his snow-shoes, the momentum taking him down to Sacramento, seventy miles away. On that cliff was afterwards found a grizzly of 1,220 pounds dead weight with a hunting knife in his heart. It was the coroner's verdict that the bear was so astonished at the fearless hunter's brave act that he committed suicide with the knife the hunter dropped in his hurry.

Although it was near to November, the foliage of the trees was barely colored. The climate of California charmed me. We were making fast time down grade, in spite of our jaded condition, and we did not tarry for lunch. When Placerville hove in sight I was a most tickled donk. Just one minute after dark we ambled into town, and were escorted to the famous spot where Horace Greeley first stepped on California soil.

CHAPTER LVI.
'Frisco at last, we win!

TOC

BY PYE POD.

Placerville greeted us royally. It was once one of the largest cities in California, and in those lawless days was called Hangtown. After describing my journey in my happiest vein, the thoughtful sheriff passed his hat and presented me with about nine dollars. Then amid hearty cheers for Mac A'Rony, we were escorted to a hotel.

That evening Coonskin and I were fêted by the young "bloods" of the town.

The following morning a jolly party drove me to Coloma, where I saw the statue of Marshall, and old Sutter's Mill, where he discovered gold. It was a lovely autumn day. The leaves were turning, but the verdure of the Pacific slope is more subdued in its colorings than that of the East, where the change of seasons embellishes it with scarlet. My genial companions were refreshing to me after being so long a recluse, but, returning to Placerville, I dined and wasted no time in starting for Sacramento. Coonskin had shipped to San Francisco most of our luggage, to relieve our animals, and at two p. m. my little caravan drifted toward the Sacramento Valley.

The next stop was Folsom, the seat of a state prison, twenty miles away, where we arrived at midnight. All the inhabitants seemed to be asleep. We were noisily debating about which street to follow, when a man called from a chamber window, and directed us to the best hotel, saying he would call on me in the morning. He introduced himself after breakfast as an officer of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and asked to see my donkeys. I escorted him to the stable, but I feared trouble. I knew three of my donkeys were galled since leaving Carson, and was so solicitous that I sent Coonskin to have the blankets and saddles cinched on them for the start, hoping the officer would be guided by the wisdom of the proverb, "What the eye cannot see the heart cannot grieve for."

You may imagine how disconcerted I was when the officer uncinched the saddle on Skates, the one most galled, and lifted the blanket.

"I am sorry to say, Mr. Pod," said he calmly, "I must arrest you for cruelty to animals."

I protested, and explained that my valet and I had been as tender and solicitous for our animals' health and comfort as a father could have been for a child; that we had tramped across both passes from Carson; and that the galls resulted from unavoidable loosening of the cinches and the shifting of the saddles. We had even changed the packs from one animal to another at frequent intervals to distribute equally the general burden. If he doubted my word we would show him our feet.

The sight of our sore and bleeding feet caused the "humane" officer to blush at his threat, and as a sympathetic murmur ran through the crowd he said: "Professor, I must say, you men are exonerated. You are as bad off as your poor donkeys, but I cannot let you take this animal out of town in that condition."

I was grieved to part with Skates, who had piloted us across the summits in that heavy storm, but the law must be obeyed. I sold the donkey to a son of the hotel landlord, who promised to cherish her as a pet. We were allowed to proceed with the rest on condition that neither of us would ride.

It was a long day's journey to the capital, upwards of thirty miles, and we got under way by nine o'clock. Coonskin and I could scarcely walk, and as we drove our three jaded burros down the main street we were cheered on every hand. After reaching the open country Mac A'Rony, observing me screw my face and hearing me sigh from pain, seemed to say: "I'm sorry, old man, but when we are out of sight of those meddling officers, get in the saddle and I will carry you a way." The dear fellow; he could read me like a book.

We threaded a lovely country. The orchards were denuded of fruit and verdure, but the vineyards were laden with their white and pink and purple harvest, and the waving alfalfa sent us whiffs from their fragrant censers all along the trail. We stopped at the great Sonora Vineyard to rest and enjoy some Muscat grapes; and shortly after lunch hour, we rested again at a weighing station, where I received a telephone message inquiring when we might be expected at the capital.

Handkerchiefs and hats were waving from the balconies of the Golden Eagle Hotel, Sacramento, and newsboys were crying the arrival of Pod and Mac A'Rony as we approached. While I had tramped most all of the way from Folsom, I rode into the city, and after a brief address at the hotel, sent my animals to the stable.

The landlord welcomed me cordially, and I was immediately assailed by reporters. The next morning a newspaper man took me driving about the city. I was presented to several state officials, and shown through the handsomest state capitol grounds in the Union. Half the day was devoted to business duties; in the evening I delivered a lecture; and several times I was asked to escort a party of ladies to the stable to see the donkey that enjoyed the unrivaled distinction of having made a 4,000 mile journey from the Hudson to the Sacramento.

Next day we started for 'Frisco at eight a. m. Just five days were left us in which to travel the ninety miles to our goal. There were many who advised me to go by way of Stockton, a longer journey by forty miles, cautioning me that my donkeys would not be allowed to cross in the "Solano" ferry at Benicia, which was reserved strictly for people and passenger trains.

But we started on the shorter route, Mac and I leading the way out of the beautiful city and along the banks of the Sacramento River, through the toolies and hop fields towards Davisville.

When yet a mile to town, Damfino while not even carrying a saddle, staggered and showed symptoms of the colic. The noble beast had done her duty on the hard trip from Iowa, and being the biggest and strongest, she had borne the heaviest burden. She had earned her freedom. I decided to leave her by the roadside. Somebody would soon find her, and take good care of her; which I afterwards learned to be the case.

Next morning Coonskin and I set out early with the remaining two donkeys, Mac A'Rony and Coxey, for Suisun, some twenty-five miles away, we walking two-thirds of the distance for the sake of our animals, although augmenting our own sufferings, for our feet still pained us. My dog, Don, on the other hand, was full of health and abrim with mirth.

Suisun welcomed us at sunset. That evening a happy idea came to mind; I would send Coonskin to Oakland by train. Considerable business must be done there which he could attend to, besides, he might arrange for hotel and stable accommodations, and engage a blacksmith to put on Mac A'Rony the silver shoes which should be at the express office in that city. There was left me three days in which to travel fifty miles, but now I could ride alternately the two donks and not overtax either.

I was received with usual courtesies at Benicia, and the hotel swarmed with townspeople and guests to hear about my trip.

At nine next morning a sympathetic crowd accompanied me to the ferry, fully expecting to see my party refused passage.

"You cannot board the Solano with your burros," said the officer, positively; "the boat is strictly reserved for passenger trains and people."

I did not show surprise, but calmly explained my overland trip, and emphasized the importance of my reaching 'Frisco with Mac by noon of November 3.

"Will you send a message to the Southern Pacific's head office at my expense?" I asked. The officer said he would, and sent it. The answer soon came directing the ferrymaster to pass Pod and party across on the exclusive Solano and extend us every courtesy.

The officer seemed much astonished at receiving the message. His obsequiousness made Mac A'Rony bray. When the expected train arrived and the Solano left the dock and the passengers realized that they were the first to cross in the company of four-legged donkeys, they treated to cigars and fruit and paid Mac A'Rony exceptional homage.

Landing at Porte Costa, I was directed on the shortest route to Oakland, and amid cheers and hearty well-wishes started to climb the trail over the hills which border the river from that point to some distance south.

It was after dark when, descending the bluffs and trailing a few miles along the river, I rode into the little village of San Pablo. The streets were quite deserted, and the few men I talked with answered my inquiries in Spanish. Finally, I entered a humble tavern whose Irish proprietor directed me on the right road. Only a few miles now lay between me and Oakland, and although tired and hungry I did not stop for supper, but pushed onward over the level road, now and then walking a half mile to rest my tired yet uncomplaining mounts or to ease my joints, until I rode into the city at midnight. Coonskin met me on the road and cheered me with the information that all the duties assigned to him were attended to, then piloted me to the hotel and the animals to the stable. After getting something to eat I retired.

Coonskin had interviewed the reporters, and the morning press heralded my advent in long and sensational notices. When I went to the stable everybody seemed to identify me with the traveler pictured in the papers. I inwardly chuckled when I thought of my dilapidated garb and general unkempt appearance. I was still lame and felt that I had walked around the world in eighty days.

My poor little donks were lying down when I went to their stalls. The twenty-eight-mile tramp of the preceding day had told on them. Mac rose to his feet and stuck up his nose to be rubbed.

"You have almost earned your pension, too," I said. "But now come to the smith's to have your new shoes put on. They are of pure silver, and befitting one that has made such a record in the field of travel." The little fellow smiled, and playfully pulled the handkerchief out of my pocket while I adjusted his bridle. And when he walked out of the shop "in" his pretty new shoes he looked as proud as any lad in his first pair of pants.

Coonskin and I lunched early. The customary crowd followed my party to the ferry, and some crossed with us on the boat to 'Frisco. How happy I felt while drifting over San Francisco Bay! I pointed toward the goal, and to a bystander, said: "During my 340 days' journey, I have had only a vague vision of the city before me, but the day I started from New York I felt as confident of reaching it as I do now." Several passengers laughed incredulously; nevertheless I spoke the truth.

The ferry approach in 'Frisco was choked with a rabble. Upon landing Coonskin and I rode our little long-eared animals up Market street to a prominent hotel, a cheering throng of men and street gamins tagging behind or following by the walk on both sides of the street. And when at two o'clock the glass doors to its great white court were thrown open to us, I was just twenty-two hours ahead of schedule time.

The several rows of balconies were crowded with hotel guests and friends waving handkerchiefs and hats, and cheer upon cheer rose to the crystal roof and descended to our ears. The court was packed. I called a porter.

"Bring a rug for my silver-shod donkey to stand on," I ordered. The darkey looked mystified, and had the insolence to question my strange request, but he soon brought the rug. The reporters aided me to urge back the crowd to give the spectators in the balconies a view of Mac's silver-shod hoofs, all four of which Coonskin lifted, one after the other, for them to see.

"Three cheers for Mac A'Rony!" some one shouted from the balcony. It was the signal for a general outburst of applause; and Mac, Coxey and Don, each, respectively, brayed or bayed his deafening acknowledgment of the popular ovation.

Then I briefly reviewed my long and tempestuous voyage of 4,096 miles on a donkey's hurricane deck in 340 days and two hours. Frequently I was interrupted with laughter or cheers, as I cited some ludicrous experience, and the unbridled throng, many of them mere street loungers, laughed and yelled and whistled until, finally, the incensed manager was attracted to the Court. The police were unable to cope with the crowd, so I was requested to remove the cause of the disturbance. Indeed I was grateful for the excuse to get away from that wild scene. Coonskin took the animals to the stable, and I, after registering, immediately sought a more exclusive hotel, to whose landlord I bore a letter of introduction from a distinguished gentleman friend.

I must have looked as if I had crossed Central Africa and had fought fifty tribes of cannibals. My clothes, hat and leggings were in shreds, my sleeves were fastened to my coat with bale-wire, and blue cotton hung in view.

"Do you take tramps at this hotel?" I inquired of the astonished clerk of the Occidental, as I leaned on the office counter. He stopped sorting letters and eyed me with curiosity, but before he recovered his reason, the junior proprietor appeared, and said: "Sometimes," then with a knowing smile extended his hand in greeting.

"I believe this is Mr. Pod," he said. I nodded and handed him the letter. When he had read it the affable young gentleman extended me the freedom of the hotel and three days later got up a coaching party in my honor.

I was soon a transformed man. After a shave and hair-cut and bath, I dressed and appeared at the office attired as a gentleman on parade, and was hardly recognized by the clerk to be the same man.

Coonskin, too, I had fitted out completely; besides I gave him a sum of money and an honorable discharge. In a few days he secured a situation in a hotel, but later set out for a mining camp in the Sierras to dig for gold.

I presented one donkey to Golden Gate Park, and sold the other, but I retained possession of my dog. Frequently afterward I called at the park to see dear old faithful Mac A'Rony.

In conclusion, let me state that I had eleven donkeys on my overland trip, never more than five at one time. I wore out ten pairs of boots, and put one hundred and forty-eight shoes on my animals at an average cost of ninety cents each, and arrived at my journey's end with several hundred dollars in pocket and weighing thirty-three pounds more than I did the day I set out from New York with ninety-nine cents.

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