'WHERE is the tent of the commanding officer?' I asked of thefirst soldier I came across.

　　He pointed to one on the hillside. 'Ags for Major Dooker,'

　　was the Dutch-accented answer.

　　Bidding Samson stay where he was, I made my way as directed.

　　A middle-aged officer in undress uniform was sitting on anempty packing-case in front of his tent, whittling a piece ofits wood.

　　'Pray sir,' said I in my best Louis Quatorze manner, 'have Ithe pleasure of speaking to Major Dooker?'

　　'Tucker, sir. And who the devil are you?'

　　Let me describe what the Major saw: A man wasted bystarvation to skin and bone, blackened, almost, by months ofexposure to scorching suns; clad in the shreds of what hadonce been a shirt, torn by every kind of convict labour,stained by mud and the sweat and sores of mules; the rags ofa shooting coat to match; no head covering; hands festeringwith sores, and which for weeks had not touched water - ifthey could avoid it. Such an object, in short, as the geniusof a Phil May could alone have depicted as the most repulsiveobject he could imagine.

　　'Who the devil are you?'

　　'An English gentleman, sir, travelling for pleasure.'

　　He smiled. 'You look more like a wild beast.'

　　'I am quite tame, sir, I assure you - could even eat out ofyour hand if I had a chance.'

　　'Is your name Coke?'

　　'Yes,' was my amazed reply.

　　'Then come with me - I will show you something that maysurprise you.'

　　I followed him to a neighbouring tent. He drew aside theflap of it, and there on his blanket lay Fred Calthorpe,snoring in perfect bliss.

　　Our greetings were less restrained than our parting had been.

　　We were truly glad to meet again. He had arrived just twodays before me, although he had been at Salt Lake City. Buthe had been able there to refit, had obtained ample suppliesand fresh animals. Curiously enough, his Nelson - theFrench-Canadian - had also been drowned in crossing the SnakeRiver. His place, however, had been filled by another man,and Jacob had turned out a treasure. The good fellow greetedme warmly. And it was no slight compensation for bygonetroubles to be assured by him that our separation had led tothe final triumphal success.

　　Fred and I now shared the same tent. To show what habit willdo, it was many days before I could accustom myself to sleepunder cover of a tent even, and in preference slept, as I haddone for five months, under the stars. The officersliberally furnished us with clothing. But their excessivehospitality more nearly proved fatal to me than any peril Ihad met with. One's stomach had quite lost its discretion.

　　And forgetting thatFamished people must be slowly nursed,And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst,one never knew when to leave off eating. For a few days Iwas seriously ill.

　　An absurd incident occurred to me here which might have hadan unpleasant ending. Every evening, after dinner in themess tent, we played whist. One night, quite by accident,Fred and I happened to be partners. The Major and anotherofficer made up the four. The stakes were rather high. Wetwo had had an extraordinary run of luck. The Major's temperhad been smouldering for some time. Presently the deal fellto me; and as bad luck would have it, I dealt myself ahandful of trumps, and - all four honours. As the last ofthese was played, the now blazing Major dashed his cards onthe table, and there and then called me out. The coolerheads of two or three of the others, with whom Fred had hadtime to make friends, to say nothing of the usual roar oflaughter with which he himself heard the challenge, broughtthe matter to a peaceful issue. The following day one of theofficers brought me a graceful apology.

　　As may readily be supposed, we had no hankering for furthertravels such as we had gone through. San Francisco was ourdestination; but though as unknown to us as Charles Lamb's'Stranger,' we 'damned' the overland route 'at a venture';and settled, as there was no alternative, to go in a tradingship to the Sandwich Islands thence, by the same means, toCalifornia.

　　On October 20 we procured a canoe large enough for seven oreight persons; and embarking with our light baggage, Fred,Samson, and I, took leave of the Dalles. For some miles thegreat river, the Columbia, runs through the CascadeMountains, and is confined, as heretofore, in a channel ofbasaltic rock. Further down it widens, and is ornamented bygroups of small wooded islands. On one of these we landed torest our Indians and feed. Towards evening we again putashore, at an Indian village, where we camped for the night.

　　The scenery here is magnificent. It reminded me a little ofthe Danube below Linz, or of the finest parts of the Elbe inSaxon Switzerland. But this is to compare the full-lengthportrait with the miniature. It is the grandeur of the scaleof the best of the American scenery that so strikes theEuropean. Variety, however, has its charms; and before onehas travelled fifteen hundred miles on the same river - asone may easily do in America - one begins to sigh for theRhine, or even for a trip from London to Greenwich, with awhite-bait dinner at the end of it.

　　The day after, we descended the Cascades. They are thebeginning of an immense fall in the level, and form asuccession of rapids nearly two miles long. The excitementof this passage is rather too great for pleasure. It is likebeing run away with by a 'motor' down a steep hill. The bowof the canoe is often several feet below the stern, as ifabout to take a 'header.' The water, in glassy ridges anddark furrows, rushes headlong, and dashes itself madlyagainst the reefs which crop up everywhere. There is notime, one thinks, to choose a course, even if steerage, whichseems absurd, were possible. One is hurled along at railwayspeed. The upreared rock, that a moment ago seemed a hundredyards off, is now under the very bow of the canoe. Oneclenches one's teeth, holds one's breath, one's hour issurely come. But no - a shout from the Indians, a magicstroke of the paddle in the bow, another in the stern, andthe dreaded crag is far above out heads, far, far behind;and, for the moment, we are gliding on - undrowned.

　　At the lower end of the rapids (our Indians refusing to gofurther), we had to debark. A settler here was putti............