Next day our gold-hunters and the rescued men reached the forest, and after resting a short time to recruit, continued their journey to the diggings. The particular part towards which their steps were directed was Bigbear Gully, a small and comparatively unknown, because recently discovered, gorge, opening out of the great Sacramento valley. On the way they passed through a country the very reverse of that which had so nearly cost them their lives. It was well wooded and watered, and abounded with game of various kinds, particularly hares, deer, quails, and other creatures; shooting these afforded pleasant pastime to the sporting characters of the party, and consuming them was enjoyed by all without exception! Rance, the guide, now that he was separated from his comrade, turned out to be a capital fellow, and, during the remainder of the journey, did much to make the travellers harmonise. The party now consisted of our hero and Joe Graddy, Jeffson the Yankee, Douglas the Scot, Meyer the German, and Bradling; all of whom, excepting the last, were good and true men. As for Bradling, no one could make out what he was, for at times he was amiable and polite, while at other times he was savage and morose. One night the travellers reached a part of the mountains which was densely covered with wood. As there was no moon, and it was almost impossible to see a step before them, Rance called a halt. "We must sleep here," he said to Jeffson. "I had half expected to make out Bigbear Gully to-night, but the road is not safe; too many precipices and steep parts, which require to be passed in daylight." "Very good, Rance; then we had better set about encamping." "'Tis a dreary-looking place," said Frank Allfrey, glancing round him. "'Twill look more cheery when the fire is kindled," said Jeffson. "Dismal enough to give a man the blues just now, anyhow," observed Joe Graddy. This was undoubtedly true. There is, perhaps, nothing more desolate, more cheerless, more oppressive to the spirits, than the influence of the woods at night. They are so dark, so black-looking and dismal, that one is led irresistibly to contrast them with home and its bright fireside and well-remembered faces--just as the starving man is led by his condition to dream of rich feasts. In both cases the result is the same. The dream of food makes the starving man's case more terrible, and the thought of home makes the dreariness of the dark wilderness more dismal.