At Prosser Creek, three miles below Truckee, they found themselves encompassed with six inches of snow.
We could not even prevent the mules we rode from rushing into it—that cold, rippling Truckee.
The camp that night by the Truckee River was the happiest of all.
He had now crossed the boundary line that divides Nevada from California, and Truckee was the first place he halted at.
We were then two miles from Truckee, and at an elevation of nearly 6,000 feet.
