I sold all of the horses to him except Mexico and Pinto—­they were not for sale at any figure.

I stayed around the city for two weeks, until it became monotonous.  Jim Beckwith had lots of money, and it looked to me as though he wanted to get rid of it—­as soon as possible.  He would get just so full every day, and when he was full of whiskey his tongue appeared to be loose at both ends.  It now being the first of December, I saddled my horse and rode out to the Fort, and on arriving there I found all anxious for the hunt.  Col.  Elliott had been talking the matter up among them.  It took about three days to prepare for the trip, and I kept hurrying them up, all that was in my power, for I did not want to fool around there until the good ladies took it in their heads to have another dance, as it was not a dance that I was hunting.  I had had enough of that on my other visit to satisfy me for some time to come.

CHAPTER XV.

A hunt on Petaluma creek.—­Elk fever breaks out.—­The expedition to Klamath lake.—­A lively brush with Modoc Indians.

The hunting party made up at the Fort was ready early in December, and we pulled out, promising to be home by New Year’s day, at the latest.

At this time there were no steamers running across the bay in the direction we wished to go, so we hired a tug to take us over to the mouth of Petaluma creek, near which we proposed to pitch our hunting camp.  Here was live-oak timber, with now and then a redwood, and in places the chapparal was thick, and there was no end to deer sign.

We had plenty of shelter in case of storm, having two good-sized tents in the outfit and only six men, not counting the darkey cook, who, however, always does count in an expedition like that.  In the party I was the only one who had ever hunted any.  Three of the others had never fired a shot at larger game than a jack-rabbit.  Col.  Elliott had once killed a deer, of which I made mention in a preceding chapter.

The following morning after breakfast I told them to select their course for the day’s hunting, and I would go in an opposite direction.

“Why do you wish to go in an opposite direction?” Lieut.  Harding asked; “Why not all go together?” I replied that after we got out in the woods I did not think they could tell a man from a deer, and I did not want to be shot by a white man out here in this country.

Capt.  Mills proposed that three go at a time, two officers and myself, by so doing there would be no danger.

This being satisfactory, Lieut.  Harding, Capt.  Mills and myself took the first turn.  Neither of them had ever hunted any, and both were as ignorant in that line as I was when I started out from St Louis in company with Uncle Kit Carson, which, by the way, I had told them something about the night before, while sitting around the campfire.