Throughout this period his sufferings were excessive; but as the time passed and brought no relief, he experienced a sickness and nausea of the most gnawing and horrible description.  He became so weak that he could hardly stand.  At length at sunset, on the third day of his wanderings, he laid himself down upon a spot of grass, and fell into a kind of stupor, in the full belief that he would only wake in the agonies of death.  It was then that he was discovered by the two Indians who brought him to the camp.  They behaved with great humanity towards him, allowing him, however, to eat, first of all, only a few morsels of the dried meat which they had with them, that he might not harm himself by over-eating, after such a lengthened fast.  As his stomach by degrees recovered its tone, they permitted him to take further nutriment; and after encamping with them on that and the following night, he felt sufficiently recovered to proceed on his journey to this camp.  His kind benefactors understood a few words of Spanish, and he was enabled to explain to them the part of the country he wished to reach.  They undertook to guide him thither—­told him they would arrive there after having slept once, and by slow marches made their way to Bear Valley, which they reached on the evening of the second day.  McPhail expressed his surprise on finding that he had wandered no greater distance off.  He showed his gratitude to his guides by presenting them with the two large holster pistols which he brought with him from Oregon; and on the following morning they took their departure from the camp.

CHAPTER XX.

  The Author inclined to return to the coast
  Sickness in the camp
  Provisions run low
  What is to be done with the gold? 
  Proposal to convey it to the coast
  Short rations
  Indians visit the camp
  The invalids of the party
  The conveyance of the gold again discussed
  Suspicions began to arise
  Captain Sutter’s receipt missing
  Bradley’s explanation
  Further discussion about the gold
  The matter at last arranged
  No chance of rain.

August 29th.—­We have led a lazy life of it these last few days.  The excitement we have lately undergone has unfitted us for regular labour; and, besides, one has had altogether a tolerably long spell of toil.  Although, ever since we have been fairly settled here—­now about a month—­we have not worked more than from four to five hours daily, and have taken it by turns to go out on hunting expeditions, still I think most of us have had enough of it; and were it not that the rainy season will soon set in, when we shall be compelled to give over work, I should, for my own part, feel inclined to return to the coast forthwith.  Sickness has begun to show itself in our camp, and we have three men now laid up:  Bradshaw, whose wound, though healing, will still confine him for many days; Biggs, who has had a severe