feel of the temperature of lake water before you leaped, as it was
to render yourself safe from sinking by anchoring yourself to a
clothesline.

But I would not have my reader assume from the recital of this
experience that Lake Tahoe is always too cold for swimming. Such is
not the case. Indeed in June, July, August and September the swimming
is delightful to those who enjoy "the cool, silver shock of the plunge
in a pool's living water," that Browning's _Saul_ so vividly
pictures for us. Hundreds of people--men, women and children--in
these months indulge in the daily luxury, especially in the coves and
beaches where the water is not too deep, and the sun's ardent rays woo
them into comfortable warmth.

After a warm day's tramp or ride over the trails, too, there is
nothing more delicious than a plunge into one of the lakes. A short,
crisp swim, a vigorous rub down, and a resumption of the walk or ride
and one feels _fit_ enough to conquer a world.

It can be imagined, too, what a lively scene the Lake presents in the
height of the season, when, from the scores of hotels, resorts, camps,
private residences, fishermen's camps, etc.; fishing-boats, row-boats,
launches, motor-boats, and yachts ply to and fro in every direction,
unconsciously vying with each other to attract the eye of the
onlooker. The pure blue of the Lake, with its emerald ring and varying
shades of color, added to by the iridescent gleam that possesses the
surface when it is slightly rippled by a gentle breeze, contrasting
with the active, vivid, moving boats of differing sizes, splashed with
every conceivable color by the hats and costumes of the occupants--all
these conspire to demand the eye, to enchain the attention, to
harmlessly hypnotize, as it were, those who sit on the shore and look.

And when is added to this the spontaneous shouts and shrieks of
delight that the feminine "fishermen" give when they are successful
and make a catch, the half-frenzied and altogether delighted
announcements thereof, the whole-hearted or the half-jealous,
half-envious return-congratulations, while now and then the large
steamer, _Tahoe_, or an elegant private yacht, as the Tevis's
_Consuelo_, crosses the scene, one may partially but never fully
conceive the joy and radiant happiness, the satisfaction and content
that Lake Tahoe inspires and produces.

Lake Tahoe covers about 190 square miles, and its watershed is about
500 square miles. The boundary line between Nevada and California
strikes the Lake on the northern border at the 120th meridian, and
a point at that spot is called the State Line Point. The latitude
parallel of this northern entrance is 39° 15". The boundary line goes
due south until about 38° 58" and then strikes off at an oblique angle
to the southeast, making the southern line close to Lakeside Park, a
few miles east of the 120th meridian.




CHAPTER II

FRÉMONT AND THE DISCOVERY OF LAKE TAHOE


Like so many other great discoveries that were to have an important
effect upon the lives of countless numbers of people, the discovery
of Lake Tahoe was accidental. Nor did its finder comprehend the vast
influence it was to possess, not only upon the residents of California
and Nevada, but upon the travel-loving and sight-seeing portion of the
population of the whole world.

John C. Frémont, popularly acclaimed "the pathfinder," was its
discoverer, on the 14th day of February, 1844. In the journal of his
1843-44 expedition he thus records the first sight of it:

Accompanied by Mr. Preuss, I ascended to-day the highest peak
to the right from which we had a beautiful view of a mountain
lake at our feet, about fifteen miles in length, and so nearly
surrounded by mountains that we could not discover an outlet.

It cannot be deemed out of place in these pages, owing to the
significance of the discovery by Frémont, to give a brief account of
the exploration and its purposes, in the carrying out of which Tahoe
was revealed to the intrepid and distinguished explorer.

Fortunately for us, Frémont left a full story of his experiences in
the Nevada country, complete in detail, and as fresh and vivid as if
but written yesterday. This account, with illuminating Introduction,
and explanatory notes by James U. Smith, from whose pioneer father
Smith Valley is named, was republished in the _Second Biennial
Report of the Nevada Historical Society_, from which, with the
kind permission of the secretary, Professor Jeanne Elizabeth Wier, the
following extracts are made.

Frémont had already made his first exploration of the Rocky Mountains
and South Pass in the summer of 1842. It was in this expedition that,
standing on the highest peak of the Rockies, he looked down into
the vast area beyond, known as the Great Basin, comprising with its
mountain ranges the whole western portion of the continent of North
America. This he determined to explore, and it was on this second
expedition that Lakes Pyramid and Tahoe, the Truckee River, etc., were
discovered.

Later, Frémont made his third western journey, that in which he
came into conflict with the Mexican officials of California, became
governor of California, and was finally placed under arrest by General
Kearny, and taken back to Washington to be tried for mutiny. The
results of that unfortunate Kearny conflict are well known.

At the official close of the dispute he made his fourth expedition
and finally his fifth, all of which are fully treated in Smucker's and
Bigelow's _Life of Frémont_.

To return now to the second expedition. In the words of Mr. Smith:

The object of the expedition was purely for the purpose of
exploring and otherwise getting scientific information about
the great territory between the Missouri frontier and the
Pacific Ocean. Emigrants were making their way westward to
the new Oregon Territory, and hunters and trappers had been
visiting portions of that region. Farther north the fur
companies had their posts and did a regular business with the
trappers and Indians. But little was known about the regions
further south, and especially the great territory between the
Rocky and Sierra Nevada Mountain chains, and that little was
freely adulterated with fiction.

Great Salt Lake was supposed to be a very strange and
wonderful lake, the islands of which were covered with woods
and flowers, through which roamed all kinds of game, and whose
waters were sucked down in a great awe-inspiring whirlpool
into an underground passage under the mountains and valleys
to the distant sea. Another myth, or rather pair of myths, in
which geographers placed sufficient faith to give a place on
the maps of the time, was the great Buenaventura River, and
that semi-tropical Mary's Lake, the waters from which found
their way through the Sierra Nevadas to San Francisco Bay.
Mary's Lake was supposed to be a body of water such as a
traveler dreams about, whose clear waters were bordered by
meadows ever green, a place on whose shores he could pitch his
tent and cast aside all thought or care of the morrow. Frémont
counted on this lake as a place where he could recuperate
and make ready for a final dash eastward across the unknown
country to the Rocky Mountains and thence home to the
Mississippi River. Contrast these anticipations with the
hardships and fears he encountered while groping his way
through the Black Rock Desert, north of Pyramid Lake.

But Frémont was a good leader followed by courageous men, and
disappointments did not make weaklings of either him or his
men. His party, on leaving Missouri, consisted of thirty-nine
men--Creoles, Canadian-Frenchmen, Americans, a German or two,
a free negro and two Indians. Charles Preuss was Frémont's
assistant in topography, and it is likely that he made his
sketches, several of which were published in the original
report. Another member of the party, and one who joined it
in the Rocky Mountains and is of special interest to us, was
Christopher Carson, commonly known as "Kit" Carson. Frémont
speaks of him in very friendly and flattering terms. At the
time of the meeting with Carson, he says: "I had here
the satisfaction to meet our good buffalo hunter of 1842,
Christopher Carson, whose services I considered myself
fortunate to secure again." On another occasion, when Carson
had successfully performed a responsible errand, he says:
"Reaching St. Vrain's Fort ... we found ... my true and
reliable friend, Kit Carson." Frémont left Kansas City, Mo.,
May 29, 1843.

His general route was along the _old_ "Oregon Trail,"
then the _new_ "Oregon Trail," but at many places his
route was different. He followed up the Kansas River instead
of the Platte. But he crossed the Rocky Mountains over the
South Pass, which is that of the Union Pacific Railroad,
and was common to the Oregon Trail and the emigrant road to
California. During nearly the whole journey to Oregon
Frémont divided his party. One part he placed in charge of
Fitzpatrick. This consisted of the carts with the bulk of the
supplies and about half of the men. The other part consisted
of a mounted party with packhorses and the howitzer. Frémont,
of course, took charge of the latter party, for, traveling
light as it did, he was able to make detours covering country
he wished to explore, always, however, using the other train
as a base of supplies. The course of the other party was
generally along the emigrant road to Oregon.

After crossing the Rocky Mountains, Frémont went south with
his party to explore Great Salt Lake. Thence he returned north
again to the emigrant road, which then followed in a general
way the Snake or Lewis River to the Columbia, with the
exception of the great bend in northeastern Oregon which was
traversed by a shorter route. Along the bank of the Columbia
the road followed to the Mission Station at the Dalles,
or great narrows of the river. At this point many of the
emigrants transferred their baggage to barges and floated
with the current to their destination on the Willamette River.
Others continued by land down the river. Frémont's division
reached the Dalles November 4th. Fitzpatrick's train did not
come in until the 21st. The latter left his carts at the mouth
of the Walla Walla River according to Frémont's orders; and,
after making pack-saddles, transferred what was left of his
baggage to the backs of his mules for the trip down to the
Dalles. In the meantime Frémont, with Preuss and two of the
other men, had gone down to Fort Vancouver in canoes. This was
the headquarters of the Hudson Bay Company for the West. Here
supplies for the return journey were obtained.

Having transported these supplies up to the Dalles in barges
propelled by Indians, he was ready to take up the final
preparation for the homeward journey. It is best to let him
describe these preparations in his own words. He says:

"The camp was now occupied in making the necessary
preparations for our homeward journey, which, though homeward,
contemplated a new route, and a great circuit to the south and
southeast, and the exploration of the Great Basin between the
Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada.

"Three principal objects were indicated, by report, or by
maps, as being on this route, the character or existence of
which I wished to ascertain, and which I assumed as landmarks,
or leading points, on the projected line of return. The first
of these points was the Tlamath Lake, on the tableland between
the head of Fall River (this is now called by its French name,
the Des Chutes River), which comes to the Columbia, and the
Sacramento, which goes to the Bay of San Francisco, and from
which lake a river of the same name makes its way westwardly
direct to the ocean.

"This lake and river are often called Klamet, but I
have chosen to write the name according to the Indian
pronunciation. The position of this lake, on the line of
inland communication between Oregon and California; its
proximity to the demarcation boundary of latitude 42 deg.; its
imputed double character of lake, or meadow, according to
the season of the year; and the hostile and warlike character
attributed to the Indians about it;--all make it a desirable
object to visit and examine. From this lake our course was
intended to be about southeast, to a reported lake called
Mary's, at some days' journey in the Great Basin; and thence,
still on southeast, to the reputed Buenaventura River, which
has a place in so many maps, and countenanced the belief
of the existence of a great river flowing from the Rocky
Mountains to the Bay of San Francisco. From the Buenaventura
the next point was intended to be in that section of the Rocky
Mountains which includes the heads of Arkansas River, and of
the opposite waters of the California Gulf; and thence down
the Arkansas to Bent's Fort, and home.

"This was our projected line of return--a great part of it
absolutely new to geographical, botanical, and geological
science--and the subject of reports in relation to lakes,
rivers, deserts, and savages, hardly above the condition of
mere wild animals, which inflamed desire to know what this
_terra incognita_ really contained. It was a serious
enterprise, at the commencement of winter, to undertake the
traverse of such a region, and with a party consisting only
of twenty-five persons, and they of many nations--American,
French, German, Canadian, Indian, and colored--and most of
them young, several being under twenty-one years of age.

"All knew that a strange country was to be explored, and
dangers and hardships to be encountered; but no one blenched
at the prospect. On the contrary, courage and confidence
animated the whole party. Cheerfulness, readiness,
subordination, prompt obedience, characterized all; nor
did any extremity or peril and privation, to which we were
afterward exposed, ever belie, or derogate from, the fine
spirit of this brave and generous commencement.

"The course of the narrative will show at what point, and for
what reasons, we were prevented from the complete execution
of this plan, after having made considerable progress upon it,
and how we were forced by desert plains and mountain ranges,
and deep snows, far to the south and near to the Pacific
Ocean, and along the western base of the Sierra Nevada; where,
indeed, a new and ample field of exploration opened itself
before us."

From these quotations it is evident that Frémont had no idea of
entering California at this time. He was simply driven to it by
circumstances over which he had no control.

Leaving the Dalles, Frémont followed up the Des Chutes River to its
headwaters in southeastern Oregon, thence he crossed over the divide
to the waters of the Klamath, which he followed southward to what is
known as Klamath Marsh. This he called "Klamath Lake."

Now started the hunt for Mary's Lake and the San Buenaventura River.
The party came down through southeastern Oregon into Nevada, where
they camped on the night of December 26, in Coleman Valley, on what
is called Twelve-Mile Creek, and about eleven miles from the present
California line. It may be noted here that at that time the parallel
between Nevada and California on the south and Oregon on the north,
was the southern boundary of the territory of the United States.
Frémont was, therefore, about to cross into Mexican territory.

He then progressed southward through what are now Washoe, Humboldt,
Churchill and Lyon counties, and over the California line into Mono
County, back again into Douglas, and thence over the mountains south
of Lake Tahoe, but did not find Mary's Lake, nor the places upon which
he relied to recruit his animals and give rest to his party. He did,
however, find Pyramid Lake. This being the body of water into which
the Truckee River flows, and the Truckee being the only outlet to Lake
Tahoe, it is well that this portion of the account be given in full.
Frémont and Carson were on ahead. The day was January 10, 1843.
Frémont writes:

Leaving a signal for the party to encamp, we continued our way
up the hollow, intending to see what lay beyond the mountain.
The hollow was several miles long, forming a good pass (some
maps designate this pass as Frémont Pass, others as San Emidio
Canyon), the snow deepened to about a foot as we neared the
summit. Beyond, a defile between the mountains descended
rapidly about two thousand feet; and, filling up all the lower
space, was a sheet of green water, some twenty miles broad
(Pyramid Lake). It broke upon our eyes like the ocean. The
neighboring peaks rose high above us. One peak, on the eastern
side of the lake, rises nearly forty-four hundred feet above
the lake, and on the side (toward which Frémont was looking)
one peak rises 4925 feet above the lake; and we ascended one
of them to obtain a better view.

The waves were curling in the breeze, and their dark-green color
showed it to be a body of deep water. For a long time we sat
enjoying the view, for we had become fatigued with mountains,
and the free expanse of moving waves was very grateful. It was
set like a gem in the mountains, which, from our position,
seemed to inclose it almost entirely. At the western end it
communicated with the line of basins we had left a few days
since; and on the opposite side it swept a ridge of snowy
mountains, the foot of the great Sierra. Its position at first
inclined us to believe it Mary's Lake, but the rugged mountains
were so entirely discordant with descriptions of its low rushy
shores and open country, that we concluded it some unknown body
of water, which it afterwards proved to be.

On January 13th we followed again a broad Indian trail along
the shore of the lake to the southward. For a short space we
had room enough in the bottom; but, after traveling a
short distance, the water swept the foot of the precipitous
mountains, the peaks of which are about 3000 feet above the
lake. The trail wound around the base of these precipices,
against which the water dashed below, by a way nearly
impracticable for the howitzer. During a greater part of the
morning the lake was nearly hid by a snowstorm, and the waves
broke on the narrow beach in a long line of foaming surf,
five or six feet high. The day was unpleasantly cold, the wind
driving the snow sharp against our faces; and, having advanced
only about twelve miles, we encamped in a bottom formed by a
ravine, covered with good grass, which was fresh and green.

We did not get the howitzer into camp, but were obliged to
leave it on the rocks until morning. The next morning the snow
was rapidly melting under a warm sun. Part of the morning was
occupied in bringing up the gun; and, making only nine miles,
we encamped on the shore, opposite a very remarkable rock in
the lake, which had attracted our attention for many miles.
It rose, according to our estimate, 600 feet above the water,
and, from the point we viewed it, presented a pretty exact
outline of the great pyramid of Cheops. Like other rocks,
along the shore, it seemed to be incrusted with calcareous
cement. This striking feature suggested a name for the lake,
and I called it Pyramid Lake; and though it may be deemed by
some a fanciful resemblance, I can undertake to say that
the future traveler will find much more striking resemblance
between this rock and the pyramids of Egypt
than there is between them and the object from which they take
their name....

The elevation of this lake above the sea is 4890 feet, being
nearly 700 feet higher than the Great Salt Lake, from which
it lies nearly west, and distant about eight degrees of
longitude. The position and elevation of this lake make it an
object of geographical interest. It is the nearest lake to the
western rim, as the Great Salt Lake is to the eastern rim
of the Great Basin which lies between the base of the Rocky
Mountains and the Sierra Nevada--and the extent and character
of which, its whole circumference and contents, it is so
desirable to know.

The Indians then directed him to a river of which he says:

Groves of large cottonwood, which we could see at the mouth,
indicated that it was a stream of considerable size, and, at
all events, we had the pleasure to know that now we were in a
country where human beings could live. Reaching the groves,
we found the inlet of a large fresh-water stream (the Truckee
River), and all at once were satisfied that it was neither
Mary's River nor the waters of the Sacramento, but that we had
discovered a large interior lake, which the Indians informed
us had no outlet. It is about 35 miles long, and, by the mark
of the water-line along the shore, the spring level is about
12 feet above its present waters.

In the meantime, such a salmon-trout feast as is seldom seen
was going on in our camp, and every variety of manner in
which fish could be prepared--boiled, fried and roasted in
the ashes--was put into requisition; and every few minutes an
Indian would be seen running off to spear a fresh one. Whether
these Indians had seen whites before, we could not be certain;
but they were evidently in communication with others who had,
as one of them had some brass buttons, and we noticed several
other articles of civilized manufacture. We could obtain from
them but little information about the country. They made on
the ground a drawing of the river, which they represented as
issuing from another lake in the mountains three or four days
distant, in a direction a little west of south; beyond which,
they drew a mountain; and further still, two rivers; on one of
which they told us that people like ourselves traveled.

They still wandered to the south, passing near where Dayton, Nevada,
now is, and reaching Bridgeport and Mono and Twin Lakes. Here they
struck north and west again and soon had to leave the howitzer.
Passing through Antelope Valley they reached Markleeville in deep
snow, passed Graver's Springs, entered Faith and Hope Valleys, and
here it was Frémont gained his view of Lake Tahoe. It was February 14,
1844. He says:

The dividing ridge of the Sierra is in sight from this
encampment. Accompanied by Mr. Preuss, I ascended to-day the
highest peak to the right [probably Stevens Peak, 10,100 feet
above sea-level], from which we had a beautiful view of a
mountain lake at our feet, about fifteen miles in length, and
so entirely surrounded by mountains that we could not discover
an outlet [Lake Tahoe]. We had taken with us a glass, but
though we enjoyed an extended view, the valley was half
hidden in mist, as when we had seen it before. Snow could
be distinguished on the higher parts of the coast mountains,
eastward, as far as the eye could extend. It ranged over a
terrible mass of broken snowy mountains, fading off blue in
the distance. The rock composing the summit consists of very
coarse, dark, volcanic conglomerate; the lower parts appeared
to be of a slaty structure. The highest trees were a few
scattered cedars and aspens. From the immediate foot of the
peak, we were two hours reaching the summit, and one hour and
a quarter in descending. The day had been very bright, still,
and clear, and spring seemed to be advancing rapidly. While
the sun is in the sky the snow melts rapidly, and gushing
springs cover the face of the mountain in all exposed places,
but their surface freezes instantly with the disappearance of
the sun.

I obtained to-night some observations, and the result from
these, and others made during our stay, gives for the latitude
38 deg. 41' 57", longitude 120 deg. 25' 57" [the correct
longitude for this place is 119 deg. 58'], and rate of the
chronometer 25.82.

The next night they encamped on the headwaters of a little creek,
where at last the water found its way to the Pacific. The following
morning they started early.

The creek acquired a regular breadth of about 20 feet, and we
soon began to hear the rushing of water below the icy surface,
over which we traveled to avoid the snow; a few miles below
we broke through, where the water was several feet deep, and
halted to make a fire and dry our clothes. We continued a few
miles further, walking being very laborious without snowshoes.

I was now perfectly satisfied that we had struck the stream on
which Mr. Sutter lived; and, turning about, made a hard push,
and reached the camp at dark. Here we had the pleasure to find
all the remaining animals, 57 in number, safely arrived at
the grassy hill near camp; and here, also, we were agreeably
surprised with the sight of an abundance of salt. Some of the
horse-guard had gone to a neighboring hut for pine nuts,
and discovered unexpectedly a large cake of very white, fine
grained salt, which the Indians told them they had brought
from the other side of the mountain; they used it to eat with
their pine nuts, and readily sold it for goods.

On the 19th, the people were occupied in making a road and
bringing up the baggage; and, on the afternoon of the next
day, February 20, we encamped, with the animals and all the
_materiel_ of the camp, on the summit of the pass [Carson
Pass, at the head of Hope Valley] in the dividing ridge, 1000
miles by our traveled road from the Dalles to the Columbia.

The people, who had not yet been to this point, climbed the
neighboring peak to enjoy a look at the valley.

The temperature of boiling water gave for the elevation of the
encampment, 9338 feet above the sea.

This was 2000 feet higher than the South Pass in the Rocky
Mountains, and several peaks in view rose several thousand
feet still higher. Thus, at the extremity of the continent,
and near the coast, the phenomenon was seen of a range
of mountains still higher than the great Rocky Mountains
themselves. This extraordinary fact accounts for the Great
Basin, and shows that there must be a system of small lakes
and rivers scattered over a flat country, and which the
extended and lofty range of the Sierra Nevada prevents from
escaping to the Pacific Ocean. Latitude 38 deg. 44', longitude
120 deg. 28'. [This latitude is that of Stevens Peak, the
highest in that ridge, 10,100 feet, and of course he did not
go over the top of that peak, when Carson Pass, 1600 feet
lower, was in plain view; this pass is the lowest one visible
from the route on which they had come; another pass much lower
leads out from the other or northern end of Hope Valley, but
was not visible from their trail. The summit of Carson Pass
is approximately latitude 38 deg. 41' 50"; longitude 119 deg.
59'. Frémont's longitude readings are unreliable, owing to
error in his chronometer.]

From this point on, following the south fork of the American River,
sixteen days from the summit landed Frémont and his party at Sutler's
Fort, March 8. Of their arrival Frémont says:

A more forlorn and pitiable sight than they presented cannot
well be imagined. They were all on foot, each man weak and
emaciated, leading a horse or mule as weak and emaciated
as themselves. They had experienced great difficulty in
descending the mountains, made slippery by rains and melting
snows, and many horses fell over precipices and were killed,
and with some were lost the packs they carried. Among these
was a mule with the plants which we had collected since
leaving Fort Hall, along a line of 2000 miles of travel. Out
of 67 horses and mules, with which we commenced crossing the
Sierra, only 33 reached the valley of the Sacramento, and they
only in a condition to be led along.

In concluding this chapter it should not be overlooked that on his
maps of the expedition of 1843-44 Frémont called the mountain lake he
had discovered "Lake Bonpland." He says in a private letter: "I gave
to the basin river its name of Humboldt and to the mountain lake the
name of his companion traveler, Bonpland, and so put it in the map of
that expedition."

[Illustration: A Washoe Indian _Campoodie_, Near Lakeside Park,
Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Washoe indians at Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: The 'Signal Code' Design]

Amadé Bonpland was born at Rochelle, France, in 1773. He was educated
as a physician but became a noted botanist. He accompanied Humboldt
to America, and subsequently became a joint author with the great
traveler and scientist of several valuable works on the botany,
natural-history, etc., of the New World. He was detained as a prisoner
for nearly ten years by Dictator Francia of Paraguay to prevent him
from, or to punish him for, attempting to cultivate the maté, or
Paraguay tea, in that country. He died in 1858 at Montevideo, the
Capital of Uruguay, in South America.

His name as applied to Lake Tahoe is practically unknown, save to the
curious investigator or historian. Other names given by Frémont have
"stuck" to this day, amongst them being Humboldt, Walker, Owen, Kern
and Carson rivers, Pyramid and Walker lakes, etc.

The vicissitudes of the naming of Lake Tahoe is of sufficient interest
to occupy a whole chapter, to which the reader is referred.




CHAPTER III

THE INDIANS OF LAKE TAHOE


Since Lake Tahoe was the natural habitat of one of the most
deliciously edible fishes found in the world, the Indians of the
region were bound, very early in their history here, to settle upon
its shores. These were the Paiutis and the Washoes. The former,
however, ranging further east in Nevada, were always regarded as
interlopers by the latter if they came too near to the Lake, and there
are legends current of several great struggles in which many lives
were lost, where the Washoes battled with the Paiutis to keep them
from this favored locality.

Prior to the coming of the emigrant bands in the early 'forties of the
last century, the only white men the Indians ever saw were occasional
trappers who wandered into the new and strange land. Then, the
beautiful Indian name, soft and limpid as an Indian maiden's eyes, was
_Wasiu_--not the harsh, Anglicized, _Washoe_. Their range
seemed to be from Washoe and Carson valleys on the east in winter, up
to Tahoe and over the Sierras for fishing and hunting in the summer.
They never ventured far westward, as the Monos and other mountain
tribes claimed the mountain regions for their acorns and the game
(deer, etc.), which abounded there.

While in the early days of the settlements of whites upon their lands
the Washoes now and again rose in protest, and a few lives were lost,
in the main they have been a peaceable and inoffensive tribe. The
Paiutis were far more independent and warlike, placing their yoke upon
the weaker tribe. Indeed, when I first talked with the older Washoes
and Paiutis thirty years ago they were full of stories of big wars
between themselves. They showed me rocks near to the present town of
Verdi, on the line of the Southern Pacific, on which their ancestors
had made certain inscriptions which they interpreted as warnings to
the Paiutis not to dare trespass beyond that sign, and the Paiutis had
similar notices inscribed upon bowlders near to their boundary lines.
As a result of one of their fights the Washoes were forbidden the use
of horses, and it is only since the whites have exercised control that
the weaker tribe has dared to disregard this prohibition.

To-day they number in the region of six hundred men, women and
children. On account of their nomadic habits it is impossible to
secure a complete census.

In appearance they are heavy and fat, though now and again a man of
fine, muscular form and good height is found. The women have broad,
shapeless figures and clumsy, deliberate movements. The older they
get the more repulsive and filthy they become. While young some of the
women have pleasing, intelligent and alert faces, while children of
both sexes are attractive and interesting. But with them as with all
aboriginal people who have absorbed the vices and none of the virtues
of the whites, the Washoes are fast losing power, vigor and strength
by disease and dissipation. The smoke of the _campoodie_ fire is
also ruinous to their eyes and ophthalmia is prevalent among them. It
is no uncommon thing to see a man or woman entirely blind.

The old-time methods of clothing have entirely disappeared. When I
first knew them it was not unusual to find an old Indian wrapped in
a blanket made of twisted rabbit-skins, but I doubt if one could be
found to-day. The white man's overalls, blouse and ordinary coat and
vest for the men, with calico in variegated colors for the women, seem
to have completely taken the place of their own primitive dress. A
pair of moccasins, however, now and again, may be found in use at a
dance or on some special occasion.

They still paint and tattoo their faces, hands and wrists, in lines,
triangles and circles. On their bodies also stripes of irregular
design and varying colors are often used, all having a symbolic
meaning originally, now lost, however, at least to all the younger
members of the tribe. Painting the face has a definite and useful
purpose. It softens the skin and prevents the frosts of winter from
cracking it.

Their dwellings are of the rudest character, mere brush shacks in
summer, and in winter, nondescript structures of brush, old boards,
railroad ties, tin cans, barrel-staves, old carpet, canvas, anything
that will sustain a roof and keep out wind, rain and as much of the
cold as possible. Their name for this structure is _campoodie_.
Of course there is no pretense of sanitation, cleanliness or domestic
privacy. The whole family herds together around the smoking fire, thus
early beginning the destruction of their eyesight by the never-ceasing
and irritating smoke.

Their native food consists of fish, the products of the chase, which
include deer, antelope, an occasional bear, rabbits, squirrels and
even coyotes, mountain-lions and wildcats, with acorns, manzanita
berries, currants and the seeds of wild peaches and the various
grasses, together with a large assortment of roots. While they gather
and eat pine nuts, they generally save them for purposes of barter or
sale. Their carrying baskets contain a good wheelbarrow load and are
called _mo-ke-wit_.

They are great gamblers, their chief game being a guessing contest,
where sides are chosen, the fortune of each side depending on its
ability to guess who holds a certain decorated stick. Men and women
alike play the game, though generally the sexes separate and play by
themselves. Quiet chanting or singing often accompanies the game. All
alike smoke the cigarette.

[Illustration: Dat-so-la-le, the artistic Washoe basket maker]

[Illustration: One of Dat-so-la-le's masterpieces, 'Our Hunters'
design]

[Illustration: 'Our Ancestral Hunters' design]

[Illustration: Washoe baskets made by Dat-so-la-le, 'Happy Homes'
design]

Of their religious beliefs little can be said. The fact is their
simple nature-worship and the superstitions connected with it have
been abolished, practically, by their association with the whites, and
we have given them nothing as substitutes. As Mrs. W.W. Price says in
a letter to me:

In several talks with Susan and Jackson, after the death
of Susan's sister, I endeavored to find out some of their
religious beliefs. But these talks were not very satisfactory.
Neither one knew what he did believe. Their old Indian
religion--whatever it may have been--seemed to have passed,
and the religion of the white man had not taken very deep
hold.

While Susan felt that she must cut her hair short and burn all
her sister's things and do just so much wailing each day to
drive off the evil spirits (on the occasion of her sister's
death), she took most _comfort_ in doing as "white woman"
do--putting on a black dress.

The most interesting result of my talks with Jackson was the
following ghost story, which he told me to show that Indians
sometimes did live again after death. His grandmother had told
him the story and had heard it herself from the man to whom it
had happened. It is as follows: "An Indian woman died,
leaving a little child and her husband. The latter spent the
accustomed four days and nights watching at her grave without
food or drink. On the fourth night the grave suddenly opened
and the woman stepped out before him. 'Give me my child,' said
she. The man said not a word but went quickly and brought the
little child. The woman did not speak but took the child and
suckled it. Then holding it close in her arms, she began to
walk slowly away. The man followed her, but he did not speak.
On, on they went, through forest and meadow, up hill and down
dale.

"By and by the man made a movement as though he would take
hold of her to stop her. But the woman warded him off with a
wave of her hand. 'Touch me not,' she said. 'If you touch me,
you must die too!' She stood and suckled the child once more,
then laid him gently in her husband's arms. 'Go home,' she
said, and faded from his sight.

"Home he went with the child, full of awe and fear.

"A few days afterwards the child died, though there was
nothing the matter with it. The man, however, lived to be very
old."