It was some days before we came in sight of this magnificent sheet of water. Finally, however, after many perilous adventures in descending the Sierras, we reached the margin of the lake. Our first care was to procure trout enough to last until we got ready to return. That was an easy matter, for in those days the lake was far more plentifully supplied than at present. We caught many thousands at a place where a small brook came down from the mountains, and formed a pool not a great distance from its entrance into the lake, and this pool was alive with them. It occupied us but three days to catch, clean, and sun-dry as many as our single mule could carry, and having still nearly a week to spare we determined to start off in pursuit of the mermaids. Our guide faithfully conducted us to the spot where he beheld the conflict between the last of the Pol-i-wogs and one of the water-men. As stated above, it is nearly on the spot where Tahoe City now stands. The battle was a fierce one, as the combatants were equally matched in strength and endurance, and was finally terminated only by the interposition of a small party of Washoes, our own guide being of the number. The struggle was chiefly in the water, the Pol-i-wog being better able to swim than the mermaid was to walk. Still, as occasion required, a round or two took place on the gravelly beach. Never did old Spain and England engage in fiercer conflict for the dominion of the seas, than now occurred between Pol-i-wog and Merman for the mastery of the lake. Each fought, as the Roman fought, for Empire. The Pol-i-wog, like the last of the Mohicans, had seen his tribe melt away, until he stood, like some solitary column at Persepolis, the sole monument of a once gorgeous temple. The water chieftain also felt that upon his arm, or rather tail, everything that made life desirable was staked. Above all, the trident of his native sea was involved. The weapons of the Pol-i-wog were his teeth and his hind legs. Those of the Merman were all concentrated in the flop of his scaly tail. With the energy of a dying alligator, he would encircle, with one tremendous effort, the bruised body of the Pol-i-wog, and floor him beautifully on the beach. Recovering almost instantly, the Pol-i-wog would seize the Merman by the long black hair, kick him in the region of the stomach, and grapple his windpipe between his bony jaws, as the mastiff does the infuriated bull. Finally, after a great many unsuccessful attempts to drag the Pol-i-wog into deep water, the mermaid was seized by her long locks and suddenly jerked out upon the beach in a very battered condition. At this moment, the Washoes with a yell rushed toward the combatants, but the Pol-i-wog seeing death before him upon water and land equally, preferred the embraces of the water nymphs to the stomachs of the landsmen, and rolling over rapidly was soon borne off into unfathomable depths by the triumphant Merman.