Then he rose to his feet, staggered a few steps forward, and glanced curiously around him at the still motionless wagon, the few felled trees and evidence of "clearing," and even at the rude cabin of logs and canvas just beginning to rise from the ground a few paces distant, and said, impatiently: "Where the devil am I ?" Morse hesitated.

He was unable to name the locality of his dwelling-place.

He answered briefly: "On the right bank of the Sacramento." The stranger turned upon him a look of suspicion not unmingled with resentment.

"Oh!" he said, with ironical gravity, "and I suppose that this water you picked me out of was the Sacramento River.

Thank you!" Morse, with slow Western patience, explained that he had only settled there three weeks ago, and the place had no name.
"What's your nearest town, then ?" "Thar ain't any.