They were to meet again in
California--that everyone said. But California looked a long way off,
and now.--For some reason or other it did not gleam so magically bright
at the limit of their vision. Their minds had grown tired of dwelling
on it and sank down wearied to each day's hard setting.
By midday the doctor's wagons had left the others far behind. The rain
fell ceaselessly, a cold and penetrating flood. The crowding crowns
and crests about them loomed through the blur, pale and slowly
whitening with falling snow. Beyond, the greater masses veiled
themselves in cloud. The road skirted the river, creeping through a
series of gorges with black walls down which the moisture spread in a
ripple-edged, glassy glaze. Twice masses of fallen rock blocked the
way, and the horses had to be unhitched and the wagons dragged into the
stream bed. It was heavy work, and when they camped, ferociously
hungry, no fire could be kindled, and there was nothing for it but to
eat the hard-tack damp and bacon raw. Leff cursed and threw his piece
away. He had been unusually morose and ill-humored for the last week,
and once, when obliged to do sentry duty on a wet night, had flown into
a passion and threatened to leave them.
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