harbor and the value of the soil and timber. They were, however, in no condition to settle, or even to tarry. Their health and strength were impaired, ammunition was practically exhausted, and there were no supplies. They would come back, but now they must reach civilization. It was midwinter and raining almost constantly. They had little idea of distance, but knew there were settlers to the south, and that they must reach them or starve. So they turned from the bay they had found to save their lives.

The third day they reached a large river flowing from the south, entering the ocean a few miles south of the bay. As they reached it they met two very old Indians loaded down with eels just taken from the river, which the Indians freely shared with the travelers. They were so impressed with them and more that followed that they bestowed on the magnificent river which with many branches drains one of the most majestic domains on earth the insignificant, almost sacrilegious name of Eel!

For two days they camped, consuming eels and discussing the future. A most unfortunate difference developed, dividing the little group of men who had suffered together so long. Gregg and three others favored following the ocean beach. The other four, headed by Wood, were of the opinion that the better course would be to follow up Eel River to its head, crossing the probably narrow divide and following down some stream headed either south or east. Neither party would yield and they parted company, each almost hopeless.

Wood and his companions soon found their plan beset with great difficulties. Spurs of the mountains came to the river's edge and cut off ascent. After five days they left the river and sought a mountain ridge. A heavy snowfall added to their discomfiture. They killed a small deer, and camped for five days, devouring it thankfully. Compelled by the snow, they returned to the river-bed, the skin of the deer their only food. One morning they met and shot at five grizzly bears, but none were killed. The next morning in a mountain gully eight ugly grizzlies faced them. In desperation they determined to attack. Wood and Wilson were to advance and fire. The others held themselves in reserve—one of them up a tree. At fifty feet each selected a bear and fired. Wilson killed his bear; Wood thought he had finished his. The beast fell, biting the earth and writhing in agony. Wilson sensibly climbed a tree and called upon Wood to do likewise. He started to first reload his rifle and the ball stuck. When the two shots were fired five of the bears started up the mountain, but one sat quietly on its haunches watching proceedings. As Wood struggled with his refractory bullet it started for him. He gained a small tree and climbed beyond reach. Unable to load, he used his rifle to beat back the beast as it tried to claw him. To his horror the bear he thought was killed rose to its feet and furiously charged the tree, breaking it down at once. Wood landed on his feet and ran down the mountain to a small buckeye, the bear after him. He managed to hook his arm around the tree, swinging his body clear. The wounded bear was carried by its momentum well down the mountain. Wood ran for another tree, the other bear close after him, snapping at his heels. Before he could climb out of reach he was grabbed by the ankle and pulled down. The wounded bear came jumping up the mountain and caught him by the shoulder. They pulled against each other as if to dismember him. His hip was dislocated and he suffered some painful flesh wounds.

His clothing was stripped from his body and he felt the end had come, but the bears seemed disinclined to seize his flesh. They were evidently suspicious of white meat. Finally one disappeared up the ravine, while the other sat down a hundred yards away, and keenly watched him. As long as he kept perfectly still the bear was quiet, but if he moved at all it rushed upon him.

Wilson came to his aid and both finally managed to climb trees beyond reach. The bear then sat down between the trees, watching both and growling threateningly if either moved. It finally tired of the game and to their great relief disappeared up the mountain. Wood, suffering acutely, was carried down to the camp, where they remained twelve days, subsisting on the bear Wilson had killed.

Wood grew worse instead of better, and the situation was grave. Little ammunition was left, they were practically without shoes or clothing, and certain death seemed to face them. Wood urged them to seek their own safety, saying they could leave him with the Indians, or put an end to his sufferings at any time. Failing to induce the Indians to take him, it was decided to try to bind him on his horse and take him along on the hard journey. He suffered torture, but it was a day at a time and he had great fortitude. After ten days of incredible suffering they reached the ranch of Mrs. Mark West, thirty miles from Sonoma. The date was February 17th, one hundred and four days from Rich Bar.

The four who started to follow the beach had experiences no less trying. They found it impossible to accomplish their purpose. Bold mountains came quite to the shore and blocked the way. They finally struck east for the Sacramento Valley. They were short of food and suffered unutterably. Dr. Gregg grew weaker day by day until he fell from his horse and died from starvation, speaking no word. The other three pushed on and managed to reach Sacramento a few days after the Wood party arrived at Sonoma.

While these adventurous miners were prosecuting the search for the mythical harbor, enterprising citizens of San Francisco renewed efforts to reach it from the ocean. In December, 1849, soon after Wood and his companions started from the Trinity River, the brig "Cameo" was dispatched north to search carefully for a port. She returned without success, but was again dispatched. On this trip she rediscovered Trinidad. Interest grew, and by March of 1850 not less than forty vessels were enlisted in the search.

My father, who left Boston early in 1849, going by Panama and the Chagres River, had been through three fires in San Francisco and was ready for any change. He joined with a number of acquaintances on one of these ventures, acting as secretary of the company. They purchased the "Paragon," a Gloucester fishing-boat of 125 tons burden, and early in March, under the command of Captain March, with forty-two men in the party, sailed north. They hugged the coast and kept a careful lookout for a harbor, but passed the present Humboldt Bay in rather calm weather and in the daytime without seeing it. The cause of what was then inexplicable is now quite plain. The entrance has the prevailing northwest slant. The view into the bay from the ocean is cut off by the overlapping south spit. A direct view reveals no entrance; you can not see in by looking back after having passed it. At sea the line of breakers seems continuous, the protruding point from the south connecting in surf line with that from the north. Moreover, the bay at the entrance is very narrow. The wooded hills are so near the entrance that there seems no room for a bay.

The "Paragon" soon found heavy weather and was driven far out to sea. Then for three days she was in front of a gale driving her in shore. She reached the coast nearly at the Oregon line and dropped anchor in the lee of a small island near Point St. George. In the night a gale sprang up, blowing fiercely in shore toward an apparently solid cliff. One after another the cables to her three anchors parted, and my father said it was with a feeling of relief that they heard the last one snap, the suspense giving way to what they believed to be the end of all. But there proved to be an unsuspected sandspit at the base of the cliff, and the "Paragon" at high tide plowed her way to a berth she never left. Her bones long marked the spot, and for many years the roadstead was known as Paragon Bay. No lives were lost and no property was saved. About twenty-five of the survivors returned to San Francisco on the "Cameo," but my father