It was a difficult struggle for survival. Snow to them was something out of a Christmas story. They had to build a shelter, and when their Southern-born mules balked at the deep white drifts, it took some human muscle to drag in the logs for their cabin.

It also took a lot of effort digging the ditch to drain the lake. They were well into their second summer before the water flowed freely away. They had plans to dig deeper, for each thunderstorm threatened to fill the basin once again.

Their efforts and dream would have succeeded if travelers and news hadn't arrived on the scene, as one, and brought trouble. A war between the Free and Slave States had begun.Union sympathizers passing by would stop in to accept the Logan's bountiful hospitality. Some displaced Southerners, perhaps because their home was being invaded, or overly-conscious that they were avoiding fighting in it's defense, began to vent their anger by being un-civil to the Logan's -the only symbol of their struggle they knew of in California.

First a cow was killed. Then a fire was started. When these tactics failed, they attacked the drainage ditch. Without it, water would drown the now flourishing fields, "and that would 'learn them!"
"He shouldn't have tried that," these people said later, with a slight touch of conscience.
"He knew that blasting powder was ready to explode. "This is war, ain't it? Dumb darkie, anyhow."