After an early breakfast on the morning following our entrance into the Yosemite, we equipped ourselves for duty; and as the word was passed to “fall in,” we mounted and filed down the trail to the lower ford, ready to commence our explorations. The water in the Merced had fallen some during the night, but the stream was still in appearance a raging torrent. As we were about to cross, our guide with earnest gesticulations asserted that the water was too deep to cross, that if we attempted it, we would be swept down into the cañon. That later, we could cross without difficulty. These assertions angered the Major, and he told the guide that he lied; for he knew that later in the day the snow would melt. Turning to Captain Boling he said: “I am now positive that the Indians are in the vicinity, and for that reason the guide would deceive us.” Telling the young Indian to remain near his person, he gave the order to cross at once. The ford was found to be rocky; but we passed over it without serious difficulty, although several repeated their morning ablutions while stumbling over the boulders. The open ground on the north side was found free from snow. The trail led toward “El Capitan,” which had from the first, been the particular object of my admiration. At this time no distinctive names were known by which to designate the cliffs, waterfalls, or any of the especial objects of interest, and the imaginations of some ran wild in search of _appropriate_ ones. None had any but a limited idea of the height of this cliff, and but few appeared conscious of the vastness of the granite wall before us; although an occasional ejaculation betrayed the feelings which the imperfect comprehension of the grand and wonderful excited. A few of us remarked upon the great length of time required to pass it, and by so doing, probably arrived at more or less correct conclusions regarding its size. Soon after we crossed the ford, smoke was seen to issue from a cluster of manzanita shrubs that commanded a view of the trail. On examination, the smoking brands indicated that it had been a picket fire, and we now felt assured that our presence was known and our movements watched by the vigilant Indians we were hoping to find. Moving rapidly on, we discovered near the base of El Capitan, quite a large collection of Indian huts, situated near Pigeon creek. On making a hasty examination of the village and vicinity, no Indians could be found, but from the generally undisturbed condition of things usually found in an Indian camp, it was evident that the occupants had but recently left; appearances indicated that some of the wigwams or huts had been occupied during the night. Not far from the camp, upon posts, rocks, and in trees, was a large _caché_ of acorns and other provisions. [Illustration: HOUSEWORTH & CO. PHOTO. HALF DOME. (4,737 feet in height.)]