CHAPTER XXIII.

Bridger and west give Christmas A high old welcome in Sacramento.  —­California gulch.—­Meeting with buffalo bill.—­Thirty-three scalps with one knife.

On our arrival at Johnnie West’s ranch we found that he had quite a comfortable house, considering that it had been built by an old trapper.  He had five acres under cultivation, and had raised a promiscuous lot of very desirable produce, especially in the way of vegetable truck.

We remained with West two months, putting in our time hunting, fishing and loafing.  It being near Christmas now, the question arose as to what we would do to celebrate that festive season.  Jim was for going to San Francisco and Johnnie wanted to go to Sacramento.  I told them it was immaterial to me where I went.  But all this time I was afraid that if John West got to town in company with Jim Bridger that West would break his oft-repeated resolutions and there would be a big run on the reddest kind of paint.  I told Jim my fears and proposed that we remain at home and take our Christmas there.  But Jim couldn’t see it in that light, and said one little spree wouldn’t hurt Johnnie, so the day before Christmas we pulled out for Sacramento.  That same evening Jim and Johnnie both got loads that they ought to have gone after about nine times, if they just had to pack them, and the result was that it was my busy day keeping them out of the calaboose.  I promised the police I would put them to bed and make them stay there until morning.

Next morning, the first thing after we had dressed, Jim said:  “Well boys, let’s go and have a Christmas drink.”  I said:  “Boys, I will take one drink with you and then quit.  Now if you fellows want to make brutes of yourselves and get into the lock-up, just go ahead, but I am going to go home as soon as I get my breakfast.”  So we went down the street and into the first saloon we came to and called for egg-nogg.  I remained with them until they were drinking their fifth drink.  I could not do anything with them, so I told them I was going to breakfast, and they could do as they pleased.  This was the first time in my life that I had ever been placed in a position where I was actually ashamed of my associates.  I was so disgusted when I left them that morning to go to my breakfast that I thought I would go home and leave them.  But after eating my breakfast, being, perhaps, in a better humor, I started out to hunt for them.  I do not wish to try for a moment to lead the reader to believe that I do not like the taste of liquor, for I am confident at that time I really liked it better than either of my associates, but I always despise the effect, and that seemed to be what they, like thousands of other, drink it for.  It always seemed to me that when a man is drunk he is more disposed to show the brute that is in him than to act a gentleman.