4_60
Bubb's Creek Trail.
one of the party below. The poor mule 25 further down turned her feet against some rock as she rolled over the last time and so held herself. Mr. Olney who was of the following party came to my help and loosened the cinch and so we got the packsaddle off. All the way down the hill was strewn our belongings. Most of it lay near the bleeding mule but up the hill were blankets, bags, the first volume of the Botany of California with the pages idly fluttering in the wind, corn-meal
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4_61
July 8, 1900.
bag, hominy bag dried prune bag, canvas coats, Winchester Repeating Shotgun, my extra pair of hobnail shoes, a fly-rod (much the worse for the descent), a hatchet, a bag of tin plates and dishes - and in short those necessaries with which the mountaineer provides himself. Strangest of all, stranger almost as a miracle, the mule was scarcely more than scratched over the body in various places, excepting merely a skin-cut on the hind leg. How she escaped I cannot understand. She fell about
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