As no information had been received from the camp of the Yosemites, after an early breakfast, the order was passed to “fall in,” and when the order “march” was given, we moved off in single file, Savage leading, with Ten-ie-ya as guide. From the length of time taken by the chief to go and return from his encampment, it was supposed that with horses, and an early start, we should be able to go and return the same day, if for any cause it should be deemed desirable, although sufficient supplies were taken, in case of a longer delay. While ascending to the divide between the South Fork and the main Merced we found but little snow, but at the divide, and beyond, it was from three to five feet in depth, and in places much deeper. The sight of this somewhat cooled our ardor, but none asked for a “_furlough_.” To somewhat equalize the laborious duties of making a trail, each man was required to take his turn in front. The leader of the column was frequently changed; no horse or mule could long endure the fatigue without relief. To effect this, the tired leader dropped out of line, resigning his position to his followers, taking a place in the rear, on the beaten trail, exemplifying, that “the first shall be last, and the last shall be first.” The snow packed readily, so that a very comfortable trail was left in the rear of our column. Old Ten-ie-ya relaxed the rigidity of his bronze features, in admiration of our method of making a trail, and assured us, that, notwithstanding the depth of snow, we would soon reach his village. We had in our imaginations pictured it as in some deep rocky canon in the mountains. While in camp the frantic efforts of the old chief to describe the location to Major Savage, had resulted in the unanimous verdict among the “boys,” who were observing him, that “it must be a devil of a place.” Feeling encouraged by the hope that we should soon arrive at the residences of his Satanic majesty’s subjects, we wallowed on, alternately becoming the object of a joke, as we in turn were extricated from the drifts. When we had traversed a little more than half the distance, as was afterwards proved, we met the Yosemites on their way to our rendezvous on the South Fork.