‘Bars and steel traps!’ roared the Judge. ‘You’ll have your har ris, sure as beaver medicine! Why, thar ain’t worse redskins in all Oregon than the Klamaths. Jist three months agone come Friday, the darn’d skunks came right slick upon Dick Livingstone and his gang. You’ve heerd of Dick, I guess?’ (I said I had not.) ‘Wael, most people has, leastways. They was jist a-washing up a tall day’s work, up Rogue River, when the Klamaths swarmed ’em just as thick as mosquitos in a swamp. Several went under, bet your life, for Dick and his boys warn’t the ones to cave in. But ‘twarn’t no use; the reds jist crowded them clean down, and took the har off everyone of ’em. The trails, too, is awful soft. Mose Hart says—and he’s now from Bogus Holler, whar you have to go—that a mule is jist sure to mire down a’most any place.’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘your news is not by any means refreshing, Judge; nevertheless, I mean going.’ ‘Wael, Cap’en, maybe you’re right; makin’ back-tracks ain’t good, anyway; we are a go-ahead people, we are, and it won’t pay to be skeerish, anyway. S’pose we go and take a drink, and I’ll jist put you through the city; I guess I’m well posted about most things in these diggins.’ So we did the city, which did not take very much time to do; we did the stores, where every person, from the master to the errand-boy, did nothing but sit on the counter to chew, whittle, and spit. The amount of whittling done in this city is perfectly astounding; every post supporting the verandahs outside the stores and bar-rooms was whittled nearly through; some of them in two or three places. We did the bar-rooms, and did sundry drinks with divers people. I purchased provisions, hired a guide, took leave of the Judge (who was not half a bad fellow when you understood him), and retiring to my inn, determined to enjoy the luxury of a bed and a long night-in, having slept on the ground since leaving Red Bluffs; and if the Judge was right about the redskins, the chances were considerably against my ever stretching my limbs on another. So, to make the most of it—for a start at sun-up and a long ride, added to a tedious day, had pretty well fagged me—I retired very early, and turned in. It really was a lovely bed, just like bathing in feathers. I stretched out my limbs until they fairly cracked again, and rolled in enjoyment. My thoughts were soon wandering; and visions of home, mixed up with mules falling over precipices, battles with Indians, an ugly feeling round the top of my head, judges, drinks, rowdies, all jumbled together in a ghostly medley—floated off in misty indistinctness, and I subsided into the land of dreams.