Then the lolling, panting flocks and herds1 are driven to the high, cool, green pastures of the Sierra. I was longing2 for the mountains about this time, but money was scarce and I couldn’t see how a bread supply was to be kept up. While I was anxiously brooding on the bread problem, so troublesome to wanderers, and trying to believe that I might learn to live like the wild animals, gleaning3 nourishment4 here and there from seeds, berries, etc., sauntering and climbing in joyful5 independence[Pg 4] of money or baggage, Mr. Delaney, a sheep-owner, for whom I had worked a few weeks, called on me, and offered to engage me to go with his shepherd and flock to the headwaters of the Merced and Tuolumne rivers—the very region I had most in mind. I was in the mood to accept work of any kind that would take me into the mountains whose treasures I had tasted last summer in the Yosemite region. The flock, he explained, would be moved gradually higher through the successive forest belts as the snow melted, stopping for a few weeks at the best places we came to. These I thought would be good centers of observation from which I might be able to make many telling excursions within a radius6 of eight or ten miles of the camps to learn something of the plants, animals, and rocks; for he assured me that I should be left perfectly7 free to follow my studies. I judged, however, that I was in no way the right man for the place, and freely explained my shortcomings, confessing that I was wholly unacquainted with the topography of the upper mountains, the streams that would have to be crossed, and the wild sheep-eating animals, etc.; in short that, what with bears, coyotes, rivers, cañons, and thorny8, bewildering chaparral, I feared that half or more of his flock would be lost. Fortunately these shortcom[Pg 5]ings seemed insignificant9 to Mr. Delaney. The main thing, he said, was to have a man about the camp whom he could trust to see that the shepherd did his duty, and he assured me that the difficulties that seemed so formidable at a distance would vanish as we went on; encouraging me further by saying that the shepherd would do all the herding10, that I could study plants and rocks and scenery as much as I liked, and that he would himself accompany us to the first main camp and make occasional visits to our higher ones to replenish11 our store of provisions and see how we prospered12. Therefore I concluded to go, though still fearing, when I saw the silly sheep bouncing one by one through the narrow gate of the home corral to be counted, that of the two thousand and fifty many would never return.
I was fortunate in getting a fine St. Bernard dog for a companion. His master, a hunter with whom I was slightly acquainted, came to me as soon as he heard that I was going to spend the summer in the Sierra and begged me to take his favorite dog, Carlo, with me, for he feared that if he were compelled to stay all summer on the plains the fierce heat might be the death of him. “I think I can trust you to be kind to him,” he said, “and I am sure he will be good to you. He knows all about the moun[Pg 6]tain animals, will guard the camp, assist in managing the sheep, and in every way be found able and faithful.” Carlo knew we were talking about him, watched our faces, and listened so attentively13 that I fancied he understood us. Calling him by name, I asked him if he was willing to go with me. He looked me in the face with eyes expressing wonderful intelligence, then turned to his master, and after permission was given by a wave of the hand toward me and a farewell patting caress14, he quietly followed me as if he perfectly understood all that had been said and had known me always.
June 3, 1869. This morning provisions, camp-kettles, blankets, plant-press, etc., were packed on two horses, the flock headed for the tawny15 foothills, and away we sauntered in a cloud of dust: Mr. Delaney, bony and tall, with sharply hacked16 profile like Don Quixote, leading the pack-horses, Billy, the proud shepherd, a Chinaman and a Digger Indian to assist in driving for the first few days in the brushy foothills, and myself with notebook tied to my belt.
The home ranch17 from which we set out is on the south side of the Tuolumne River near French Bar, where the foothills of metamorphic gold-bearing slates18 dip below the stratified deposits of the Central Valley. We had not gone[Pg 7] more than a mile before some of the old leaders of the flock showed by the eager, inquiring way they ran and looked ahead that they were thinking of the high pastures they had enjoyed last summer. Soon the whole flock seemed to be hopefully excited, the mothers calling their lambs, the lambs replying in tones wonderfully human, their fondly quavering calls interrupted now and then by hastily snatched mouthfuls of withered20 grass. Amid all this seeming babel of baas as they streamed over the hills every mother and child recognized each other’s voice. In case a tired lamb, half asleep in the smothering21 dust, should fail to answer, its mother would come running back through the flock toward the spot whence its last response was heard, and refused to be comforted until she found it, the one of a thousand, though to our eyes and ears all seemed alike.
The flock traveled at the rate of about a mile an hour, outspread in the form of an irregular triangle, about a hundred yards wide at the base, and a hundred and fifty yards long, with a crooked22, ever-changing point made up of the strongest foragers, called the “leaders,” which, with the most active of those scattered23 along the ragged24 sides of the “main body,” hastily explored nooks in the rocks and bushes for grass and leaves; the lambs and feeble old[Pg 8] mothers dawdling25 in the rear were called the “tail end.”
About noon the heat was hard to bear; the poor sheep panted pitifully and tried to stop in the shade of every tree they came to, while we gazed with eager longing through the dim burning glare toward the snowy mountains and streams, though not one was in sight. The landscape is only wavering foothills roughened here and there with bushes and trees and outcropping masses of slate19. The trees, mostly the blue oak (Quercus Douglasii), are about thirty to forty feet high, with pale blue-green leaves and white bark, sparsely26 planted on the thinnest soil or in crevices27 of rocks beyond the reach of grass fires. The slates in many places rise abruptly28 through the tawny grass in sharp lichen-covered slabs29 like tombstones in deserted30 burying-grounds. With the exception of the oak and four or five species of manzanita and ceanothus, the vegetation of the foothills is mostly the same as that of the plains. I saw this region in the early spring, when it was a charming landscape garden full of birds and bees and flowers. Now the scorching31 weather makes everything dreary32. The ground is full of cracks, lizards33 glide34 about on the rocks, and ants in amazing numbers, whose tiny sparks of life only burn the brighter with the heat,[Pg 9] fairly quiver with unquenchable energy as they run in long lines to fight and gather food. How it comes that they do not dry to a crisp in a few seconds’ exposure to such sun-fire is marvelous. A few rattlesnakes lie coiled in out-of-the-way places, but are seldom seen. Magpies35 and crows, usually so noisy, are silent now, standing36 in mixed flocks on the ground beneath the best shade trees, with bills wide open and wings drooped37, too breathless to speak; the quails38 also are trying to keep in the shade about the few tepid39 alkaline water-holes; cottontail rabbits are running from shade to shade among the ceanothus brush, and occasionally the long-eared hare is seen cantering gracefully41 across the wider openings.
After a short noon rest in a grove42, the poor dust-choked flock was again driven ahead over the brushy hills, but the dim roadway we had been following faded away just where it was most needed, compelling us to stop to look about us and get our bearings. The Chinaman seemed to think we were lost, and chattered43 in pidgin English concerning the abundance of “litty stick” (chaparral), while the Indian silently scanned the billowy ridges45 and gulches46 for openings. Pushing through the thorny jungle, we at length discovered a road trending toward Coulterville, which we followed until[Pg 10] an hour before sunset, when we reached a dry ranch and camped for the night.
Camping in the foothills with a flock of sheep is simple and easy, but far from pleasant. The sheep were allowed to pick what they could find in the neighborhood until after sunset, watched by the shepherd, while the others gathered wood, made a fire, cooked, unpacked47 and fed the horses, etc. About dusk the weary sheep were gathered on the highest open spot near camp, where they willingly bunched close together, and after each mother had found her lamb and suckled it, all lay down and required no attention until morning.
Supper was announced by the call, “Grub!” Each with a tin plate helped himself direct from the pots and pans while chatting about such camp studies as sheep-feed, mines, coyotes, bears, or adventures during the memorable48 gold days of pay dirt. The Indian kept in the background, saying never a word, as if he belonged to another species. The meal finished, the dogs were fed, the smokers49 smoked by the fire, and under the influences of fullness and tobacco the calm that settled on their faces seemed almost divine, something like the mellow50 meditative51 glow portrayed52 on the countenances53 of saints. Then suddenly, as if awakening54 from a dream, each with a sigh or a grunt[Pg 11] knocked the ashes out of his pipe, yawned, gazed at the fire a few moments, said, “Well, I believe I’ll turn in,” and straightway vanished beneath his blankets. The fire smouldered and flickered55 an hour or two longer; the stars shone brighter; coons, coyotes, and owls56 stirred the silence here and there, while crickets and hylas made a cheerful, continuous music, so fitting and full that it seemed a part of the very body of the night. The only discordance57 came from a snoring sleeper58, and the coughing sheep with dust in their throats. In the starlight the flock looked like a big gray blanket.
June 4. The camp was astir at daybreak; coffee, bacon, and beans formed the breakfast, followed by quick dish-washing and packing. A general bleating59 began about sunrise. As soon as a mother ewe arose, her lamb came bounding and bunting for its breakfast, and after the thousand youngsters had been suckled the flock began to nibble60 and spread. The restless wethers with ravenous61 appetites were the first to move, but dared not go far from the main body. Billy and the Indian and the Chinaman kept them headed along the weary road, and allowed them to pick up what little they could find on a breadth of about a quarter of a mile. But as several flocks had already gone ahead of us, scarce a leaf, green or dry, was[Pg 12] left; therefore the starving flock had to be hurried on over the bare, hot hills to the nearest of the green pastures, about twenty or thirty miles from here.
The pack-animals were led by Don Quixote, a heavy rifle over his shoulder intended for bears and wolves. This day has been as hot and dusty as the first, leading over gently sloping brown hills, with mostly the same vegetation, excepting the strange-looking Sabine pine (Pinus Sabiniana), which here forms small groves62 or is scattered among the blue oaks. The trunk divides at a height of fifteen or twenty feet into two or more stems, outleaning or nearly upright, with many straggling branches and long gray needles, casting but little shade. In general appearance this tree looks more like a palm than a pine. The cones64 are about six or seven inches long, about five in diameter, very heavy, and last long after they fall, so that the ground beneath the trees is covered with them. They make fine resiny, light-giving camp-fires, next to ears of Indian corn the most beautiful fuel I’ve ever seen. The nuts, the Don tells me, are gathered in large quantities by the Digger Indians for food. They are about as large and hard-shelled as hazelnuts—food and fire fit for the gods from the same fruit.[Pg 13]
June 5. This morning a few hours after setting out with the crawling sheep-cloud, we gained the summit of the first well-defined bench on the mountain-flank at Pino Blanco. The Sabine pines interest me greatly. They are so airy and strangely palm-like I was eager to sketch65 them, and was in a fever of excitement without accomplishing much. I managed to halt long enough, however, to make a tolerably fair sketch of Pino Blanco peak from the southwest side, where there is a small field and vineyard irrigated66 by a stream that makes a pretty fall on its way down a gorge67 by the roadside.
After gaining the open summit of this first bench, feeling the natural exhilaration due to the slight elevation68 of a thousand feet or so, and the hopes excited concerning the outlook to be obtained, a magnificent section of the Merced Valley at what is called Horseshoe Bend came full in sight—a glorious wilderness69 that seemed to be calling with a thousand songful voices. Bold, down-sweeping slopes, feathered with pines and clumps70 of manzanita with sunny, open spaces between them, make up most of the foreground; the middle and background present fold beyond fold of finely modeled hills and ridges rising into mountain-like masses in the dis[Pg 14]tance, all covered with a shaggy growth of chaparral, mostly adenostoma, planted so marvelously close and even that it looks like soft, rich plush without a single tree or bare spot. As far as the eye can reach it extends, a heaving, swelling71 sea of green as regular and continuous as that produced by the heaths of Scotland. The sculpture of the landscape is as striking in its main lines as in its lavish72 richness of detail; a grand congregation of massive heights with the river shining between, each carved into smooth, graceful40 folds without leaving a single rocky angle exposed, as if the delicate fluting73 and ridging fashioned out of metamorphic slates had been carefully sandpapered. The whole landscape showed design, like man’s noblest sculptures. How wonderful the power of its beauty! Gazing awe-stricken, I might have left everything for it. Glad, endless work would then be mine tracing the forces that have brought forth74 its features, its rocks and plants and animals and glorious weather. Beauty beyond thought everywhere, beneath, above, made and being made forever. I gazed and gazed and longed and admired until the dusty sheep and packs were far out of sight, made hurried notes and a sketch, though there was no need of either, for the colors and lines and expression of this di[Pg 15]vine landscape-countenance are so burned into mind and heart they surely can never grow dim.
The evening of this charmed day is cool, calm, cloudless, and full of a kind of lightning I have never seen before—white glowing cloud-shaped masses down among the trees and bushes, like quick-throbbing fireflies in the Wisconsin meadows rather than the so-called “wild fire.” The spreading hairs of the horses’ tails and sparks from our blankets show how highly charged the air is.
June 6. We are now on what may be called the second bench or plateau of the Range, after making many small ups and downs over belts of hill-waves, with, of course, corresponding changes in the vegetation. In open spots many of the lowland compositæ are still to be found, and some of the Mariposa tulips and other conspicuous75 members of the lily family; but the characteristic blue oak of the foothills is left below, and its place is taken by a fine large species (Quercus Californica) with deeply lobed76 deciduous77 leaves, picturesquely78 divided trunk, and broad, massy, finely lobed and modeled head. Here also at a height of about twenty-five hundred feet we come to the edge of the great coniferous forest, made up mostly of yellow pine with just a few sugar pines. We[Pg 16] are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling79 enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us. Our flesh-and-bone tabernacle seems transparent80 as glass to the beauty about us, as if truly an inseparable part of it, thrilling with the air and trees, streams and rocks, in the waves of the sun,—a part of all nature, neither old nor young, sick nor well, but immortal81. Just now I can hardly conceive of any bodily condition dependent on food or breath any more than the ground or the sky. How glorious a conversion82, so complete and wholesome83 it is, scarce memory enough of old bondage84 days left as a standpoint to view it from! In this newness of life we seem to have been so always.
Through a meadow opening in the pine woods I see snowy peaks about the headwaters of the Merced above Yosemite. How near they seem and how clear their outlines on the blue air, or rather in the blue air; for they seem to be saturated85 with it. How consuming strong the invitation they extend! Shall I be allowed to go to them? Night and day I’ll pray that I may, but it seems too good to be true. Some one worthy86 will go, able for the Godful work, yet as far as I can I must drift about these love-monument mountains, glad to be a servant of servants in so holy a wilderness.[Pg 17]
Found a lovely lily (Calochortus albus) in a shady adenostoma thicket87 near Coulterville, in company with Adiantum Chilense. It is white with a faint purplish tinge88 inside at the base of the petals89, a most impressive plant, pure as a snow crystal, one of the plant saints that all must love and be made so much the purer by it every time it is seen. It puts the roughest mountaineer on his good behavior. With this plant the whole world would seem rich though none other existed. It is not easy to keep on with the camp cloud while such plant people are standing preaching by the wayside.
During the afternoon we passed a fine meadow bounded by stately pines, mostly the arrowy yellow pine, with here and there a noble sugar pine, its feathery arms outspread above the spires90 of its companion species in marked contrast; a glorious tree, its cones fifteen to twenty inches long, swinging like tassels91 at the ends of the branches with superb ornamental92 effect. Saw some logs of this species at the Greeley Mill. They are round and regular as if turned in a lathe93, excepting the butt94 cuts, which have a few buttressing95 projections96. The fragrance97 of the sugary sap is delicious and scents99 the mill and lumber100 yard. How beautiful the ground be[Pg 18]neath this pine thickly strewn with slender needles and grand cones, and the piles of cone63-scales, seed-wings and shells around the instep of each tree where the squirrels have been feasting! They get the seeds by cutting off the scales at the base in regular order, following their spiral arrangement, and the two seeds at the base of each scale, a hundred or two in a cone, must make a good meal. The yellow pine cones and those of most other species and genera are held upside down on the ground by the Douglas squirrel, and turned around gradually until stripped, while he sits usually with his back to a tree, probably for safety. Strange to say, he never seems to get himself smeared101 with gum, not even his paws or whiskers—and how cleanly and beautiful in color the cone-litter kitchen-middens he makes.
We are now approaching the region of clouds and cool streams. Magnificent white cumuli appeared about noon above the Yosemite region,—floating fountains refreshing102 the glorious wilderness,—sky mountains in whose pearly hills and dales the streams take their rise,—blessing with cooling shadows and rain. No rock landscape is more varied103 in sculpture, none more delicately modeled than these landscapes of the sky;[Pg 19] domes104 and peaks rising, swelling, white as finest marble and firmly outlined, a most impressive manifestation105 of world building. Every rain-cloud, however fleeting106, leaves its mark, not only on trees and flowers whose pulses are quickened, and on the replenished107 streams and lakes, but also on the rocks are its marks engraved108 whether we can see them or not.
I have been examining the curious and influential109 shrub110 Adenostoma fasciculata, first noticed about Horseshoe Bend. It is very abundant on the lower slopes of the second plateau near Coulterville, forming a dense111, almost impenetrable growth that looks dark in the distance. It belongs to the rose family, is about six or eight feet high, has small white flowers in racemes eight to twelve inches long, round needle-like leaves, and reddish bark that becomes shreddy when old. It grows on sun-beaten slopes, and like grass is often swept away by running fires, but is quickly renewed from the roots. Any trees that may have established themselves in its midst are at length killed by these fires, and this no doubt is the secret of the unbroken character of its broad belts. A few manzanitas, which also rise again from the root after consuming fires, make out to dwell with it, also a few[Pg 20] bush compositæ—baccharis and linosyris, and some liliaceous plants, mostly calochortus and brodiæa, with deepset bulbs safe from fire. A multitude of birds and “wee, sleekit, cow’rin’, tim’rous beasties” find good homes in its deepest thickets112, and the open bays and lanes that fringe the margins113 of its main belts offer shelter and food to the deer when winter storms drive them down from their high mountain pastures. A most admirable plant! It is now in bloom, and I like to wear its pretty fragrant114 racemes in my buttonhole.
Azalea occidentalis, another charming shrub, grows beside cool streams hereabouts and much higher in the Yosemite region. We found it this evening in bloom a few miles above Greeley’s Mill, where we are camped for the night. It is closely related to the rhododendrons, is very showy and fragrant, and everybody must like it not only for itself but for the shady alders115 and willows116, ferny meadows, and living water associated with it.
Another conifer was met to-day,—incense117 cedar118 (Libocedrus decurrens), a large tree with warm yellow-green foliage119 in flat plumes120 like those of arborvitæ, bark cinnamon-colored, and as the boles of the old trees are without limbs they make striking pillars in the woods where the sun chances to shine on them—a[Pg 21] worthy companion of the kingly sugar and yellow pines. I feel strangely attracted to this tree. The brown close-grained wood, as well as the small scale-like leaves, is fragrant, and the flat overlapping121 plumes make fine beds, and must shed the rain well. It would be delightful122 to be storm-bound beneath one of these noble, hospitable123, inviting124 old trees, its broad sheltering arms bent125 down like a tent, incense rising from the fire made from its dry fallen branches, and a hearty126 wind chanting overhead. But the weather is calm to-night, and our camp is only a sheep camp. We are near the North Fork of the Merced. The night wind is telling the wonders of the upper mountains, their snow fountains and gardens, forests and groves; even their topography is in its tones. And the stars, the everlasting127 sky lilies, how bright they are now that we have climbed above the lowland dust! The horizon is bounded and adorned128 by a spiry129 wall of pines, every tree harmoniously130 related to every other; definite symbols, divine hieroglyphics131 written with sunbeams. Would I could understand them! The stream flowing past the camp through ferns and lilies and alders makes sweet music to the ear, but the pines marshaled around the edge of the sky make a yet sweeter music to the eye. Divine[Pg 22] beauty all. Here I could stay tethered forever with just bread and water, nor would I be lonely; loved friends and neighbors, as love for everything increased, would seem all the nearer however many the miles and mountains between us.
June 7. The sheep were sick last night, and many of them are still far from well, hardly able to leave camp, coughing, groaning132, looking wretched and pitiful, all from eating the leaves of the blessed azalea. So at least say the shepherd and the Don. Having had but little grass since they left the plains, they are starving, and so eat anything green they can get. “Sheep men” call azalea “sheep-poison,” and wonder what the Creator was thinking about when he made it,—so desperately133 does sheep business blind and degrade, though supposed to have a refining influence in the good old days we read of. The California sheep owner is in haste to get rich, and often does, now that pasturage costs nothing, while the climate is so favorable that no winter food supply, shelter-pens, or barns are required. Therefore large flocks may be kept at slight expense, and large profits realized, the money invested doubling, it is claimed, every other year. This quickly acquired wealth usually creates desire for more. Then indeed the wool[Pg 23] is drawn134 close down over the poor fellow’s eyes, dimming or shutting out almost everything worth seeing.
As for the shepherd, his case is still worse, especially in winter when he lives alone in a cabin. For, though stimulated135 at times by hopes of one day owning a flock and getting rich like his boss, he at the same time is likely to be degraded by the life he leads, and seldom reaches the dignity or advantage—or disadvantage—of ownership. The degradation136 in his case has for cause one not far to seek. He is solitary137 most of the year, and solitude138 to most people seems hard to bear. He seldom has much good mental work or recreation in the way of books. Coming into his dingy139 hovel-cabin at night, stupidly weary, he finds nothing to balance and level his life with the universe. No, after his dull drag all day after the sheep, he must get his supper; he is likely to slight this task and try to satisfy his hunger with whatever comes handy. Perhaps no bread is baked; then he just makes a few grimy flapjacks in his unwashed frying-pan, boils a handful of tea, and perhaps fries a few strips of rusty140 bacon. Usually there are dried peaches or apples in the cabin, but he hates to be bothered with the cooking of them, just swallows the bacon and flapjacks,[Pg 24] and depends on the genial141 stupefaction of tobacco for the rest. Then to bed, often without removing the clothing worn during the day. Of course his health suffers, reacting on his mind; and seeing nobody for weeks or months, he finally becomes semi-insane or wholly so.
The shepherd in Scotland seldom thinks of being anything but a shepherd. He has probably descended143 from a race of shepherds and inherited a love and aptitude144 for the business almost as marked as that of his collie. He has but a small flock to look after, sees his family and neighbors, has time for reading in fine weather, and often carries books to the fields with which he may converse145 with kings. The oriental shepherd, we read, called his sheep by name; they knew his voice and followed him. The flocks must have been small and easily managed, allowing piping on the hills and ample leisure for reading and thinking. But whatever the blessings146 of sheep-culture in other times and countries, the California shepherd, as far as I’ve seen or heard, is never quite sane142 for any considerable time. Of all Nature’s voices baa is about all he hears. Even the howls and ki-yis of coyotes might be blessings if well heard, but he hears them only through a blur147 of mutton and wool, and they do him no good.[Pg 25]
The sick sheep are getting well, and the shepherd is discoursing148 on the various poisons lurking149 in these high pastures—azalea, kalmia, alkali. After crossing the North Fork of the Merced we turned to the left toward Pilot Peak, and made a considerable ascent150 on a rocky, brush-covered ridge44 to Brown’s Flat, where for the first time since leaving the plains the flock is enjoying plenty of green grass. Mr. Delaney intends to seek a permanent camp somewhere in the neighborhood, to last several weeks.
Before noon we passed Bower151 Cave, a delightful marble palace, not dark and dripping, but filled with sunshine, which pours into it through its wide-open mouth facing the south. It has a fine, deep, clear little lake with mossy banks embowered with broad-leaved maples152, all under ground, wholly unlike anything I have seen in the cave line even in Kentucky, where a large part of the State is honeycombed with caves. This curious specimen154 of subterranean155 scenery is located on a belt of marble that is said to extend from the north end of the Range to the extreme south. Many other caves occur on the belt, but none like this, as far as I have learned, combining as it does sunny outdoor brightness and vegetation with the crystalline beauty of the under[Pg 26]world. It is claimed by a Frenchman, who has fenced and locked it, placed a boat on the lakelet and seats on the mossy bank under the maple153 trees, and charges a dollar admission fee. Being on one of the ways to the Yosemite Valley, a good many tourists visit it during the travel months of summer, regarding it as an interesting addition to their Yosemite wonders.
Poison oak or poison ivy156 (Rhus diversiloba), both as a bush and a scrambler up trees and rocks, is common throughout the foothill region up to a height of at least three thousand feet above the sea. It is somewhat troublesome to most travelers, inflaming157 the skin and eyes, but blends harmoniously with its companion plants, and many a charming flower leans confidingly158 upon it for protection and shade. I have oftentimes found the curious twining lily (Stropholirion Californicum) climbing its branches, showing no fear but rather congenial companionship. Sheep eat it without apparent ill effects; so do horses to some extent, though not fond of it, and to many persons it is harmless. Like most other things not apparently159 useful to man, it has few friends, and the blind question, “Why was it made?” goes on and on with never a guess that first of all it might have been made for itself.[Pg 27]
Brown’s Flat is a shallow fertile valley on the top of the divide between the North Fork of the Merced and Bull Creek160, commanding magnificent views in every direction. Here the adventurous161 pioneer David Brown made his headquarters for many years, dividing his time between gold-hunting and bear-hunting. Where could lonely hunter find a better solitude? Game in the woods, gold in the rocks, health and exhilaration in the air, while the colors and cloud furniture of the sky are ever inspiring through all sorts of weather. Though sternly practical, like most pioneers, old David seems to have been uncommonly162 fond of scenery. Mr. Delaney, who knew him well, tells me that he dearly loved to climb to the summit of a commanding ridge to gaze abroad over the forest to the snow-clad peaks and sources of the rivers, and over the foreground valleys and gulches to note where miners were at work or claims were abandoned, judging by smoke from cabins and camp-fires, the sounds of axes, etc.; and when a rifle-shot was heard, to guess who was the hunter, whether Indian or some poacher on his wide domain163. His dog Sandy accompanied him everywhere, and well the little hairy mountaineer knew and loved his master and his master’s aims. In deer-hunting he had but little to do, trot[Pg 28]ting behind his master as he slowly made his way through the wood, careful not to step heavily on dry twigs164, scanning open spots in the chaparral, where the game loves to feed in the early morning and towards sunset; peering cautiously over ridges as new outlooks were reached, and along the meadowy borders of streams. But when bears were hunted, little Sandy became more important, and it was as a bear-hunter that Brown became famous. His hunting method, as described by Mr. Delaney, who had passed many a night with him in his lonely cabin and learned his stories, was simply to go slowly and silently through the best bear pastures, with his dog and rifle and a few pounds of flour, until he found a fresh track and then follow it to the death, paying no heed165 to the time required. Wherever the bear went he followed, led by little Sandy, who had a keen nose and never lost the track, however rocky the ground. When high open points were reached, the likeliest places were carefully scanned. The time of year enabled the hunter to determine approximately where the bear would be found,—in the spring and early summer on open spots about the banks of streams and springy places eating grass and clover and lupines, or in dry meadows feasting on strawberries; toward the end of summer, on[Pg 29] dry ridges, feasting on manzanita berries, sitting on his haunches, pulling down the laden166 branches with his paws, and pressing them together so as to get good compact mouthfuls however much mixed with twigs and leaves; in the Indian summer, beneath the pines, chewing the cones cut off by the squirrels, or occasionally climbing a tree to gnaw167 and break off the fruitful branches. In late autumn, when acorns168 are ripe, Bruin’s favorite feeding-grounds are groves of the California oak in park-like cañon flats. Always the cunning hunter knew where to look, and seldom came upon Bruin unawares. When the hot scent98 showed the dangerous game was nigh, a long halt was made, and the intricacies of the topography and vegetation leisurely169 scanned to catch a glimpse of the shaggy wanderer, or to at least determine where he was most likely to be.
“Whenever,” said the hunter, “I saw a bear before it saw me I had no trouble in killing170 it. I just studied the lay of the land and got to leeward171 of it no matter how far around I had to go, and then worked up to within a few hundred yards or so, at the foot of a tree that I could easily climb, but too small for the bear to climb. Then I looked well to the condition of my rifle, took off my boots so as to climb well if necessary, and waited until[Pg 30] the bear turned its side in clear view when I could make a sure or at least a good shot. In case it showed fight I climbed out of reach. But bears are slow and awkward with their eyes, and being to leeward of them they could not scent me, and I often got in a second shot before they noticed the smoke. Usually, however, they run when wounded and hide in the brush. I let them run a good safe time before I ventured to follow them, and Sandy was pretty sure to find them dead. If not, he barked and drew their attention, and occasionally rushed in for a distracting bite, so that I was able to get to a safe distance for a final shot. Oh yes, bear-hunting is safe enough when followed in a safe way, though like every other business it has its accidents, and little doggie and I have had some close calls. Bears like to keep out of the way of men as a general thing, but if an old, lean, hungry mother with cubs172 met a man on her own ground she would, in my opinion, try to catch and eat him. This would be only fair play anyhow, for we eat them, but nobody hereabout has been used for bear grub that I know of.”
Brown had left his mountain home ere we arrived, but a considerable number of Digger Indians still linger in their cedar-bark huts on the edge of the flat. They were attracted[Pg 31] in the first place by the white hunter whom they had learned to respect, and to whom they looked for guidance and protection against their enemies the Pah Utes, who sometimes made raids across from the east side of the Range to plunder173 the stores of the comparatively feeble Diggers and steal their wives.
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1
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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gleaning
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| n.拾落穗，拾遗，落穗v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的现在分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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10
herding
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| 中畜群 | |
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replenish
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| vt.补充；(把…)装满；(再)填满 | |
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prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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14
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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16
hacked
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| 生气 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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18
slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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19
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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20
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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21
smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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22
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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23
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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24
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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25
dawdling
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| adj.闲逛的，懒散的v.混（时间）( dawdle的现在分词 ) | |
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sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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27
crevices
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| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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30
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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31
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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32
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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33
lizards
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| n.蜥蜴( lizard的名词复数 ) | |
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34
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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35
magpies
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| 喜鹊（magpie的复数形式） | |
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36
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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37
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
quails
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| 鹌鹑( quail的名词复数 )； 鹌鹑肉 | |
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39
tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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40
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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41
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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42
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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43
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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44
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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45
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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46
gulches
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| n.峡谷( gulch的名词复数 ) | |
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47
unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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48
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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49
smokers
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| 吸烟者( smoker的名词复数 ) | |
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50
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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51
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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52
portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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53
countenances
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| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
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54
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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55
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
owls
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| n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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57
discordance
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| n.不调和，不和，不一致性；不整合；假整合 | |
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58
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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59
bleating
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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60
nibble
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| n.轻咬，啃；v.一点点地咬，慢慢啃，吹毛求疵 | |
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61
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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62
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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63
cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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64
cones
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| n.（人眼）圆锥细胞；圆锥体( cone的名词复数 )；球果；圆锥形东西；（盛冰淇淋的）锥形蛋卷筒 | |
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65
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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66
irrigated
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| [医]冲洗的 | |
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67
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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68
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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69
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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70
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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71
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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72
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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73
fluting
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| 有沟槽的衣料； 吹笛子； 笛声； 刻凹槽 | |
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74
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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75
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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76
lobed
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| adj.浅裂的，叶状的 | |
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77
deciduous
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| adj.非永久的；短暂的；脱落的；落叶的 | |
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78
picturesquely
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79
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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80
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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81
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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82
conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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83
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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84
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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85
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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86
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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87
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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88
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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89
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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90
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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91
tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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92
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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93
lathe
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| n.车床，陶器，镟床 | |
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94
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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95
buttressing
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| v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的现在分词 ) | |
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96
projections
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| 预测( projection的名词复数 )； 投影； 投掷； 突起物 | |
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97
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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98
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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99
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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100
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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101
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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102
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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103
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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104
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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105
manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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106
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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107
replenished
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| 补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 )； 重新装满 | |
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108
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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109
influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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110
shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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111
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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112
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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113
margins
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| 边( margin的名词复数 )； 利润； 页边空白； 差数 | |
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114
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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115
alders
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| n.桤木( alder的名词复数 ) | |
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116
willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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117
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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118
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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119
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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120
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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121
overlapping
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| adj./n.交迭（的） | |
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122
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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123
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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124
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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125
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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126
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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127
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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128
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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129
spiry
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| adj.尖端的，尖塔状的，螺旋状的 | |
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130
harmoniously
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| 和谐地，调和地 | |
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131
hieroglyphics
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| n.pl.象形文字 | |
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132
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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133
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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134
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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136
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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137
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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138
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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139
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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140
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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141
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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143
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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144
aptitude
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| n.(学习方面的)才能，资质，天资 | |
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145
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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146
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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147
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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148
discoursing
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| 演说（discourse的现在分词形式） | |
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149
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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150
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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151
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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152
maples
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| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
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153
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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154
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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155
subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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156
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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157
inflaming
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| v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的现在分词 ) | |
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158
confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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159
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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160
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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161
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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162
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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163
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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164
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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165
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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166
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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167
gnaw
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| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
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168
acorns
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| n.橡子，栎实( acorn的名词复数 ) | |
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169
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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170
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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171
leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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172
cubs
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| n.幼小的兽，不懂规矩的年轻人( cub的名词复数 ) | |
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173
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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