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boldness of its stretches； the freedom of its reaches for the opposite slope；
the wide curve of its horseshoes； all filled us with the breath of an
expansion which as yet the broad low country only suggested。
Everything here was reminiscent of long ago。 The very names hinted
stories of the Argonauts。 Coarse Gold Gulch； Whiskey Creek； Grub
Gulch； Fine Gold Post…Office in turn we passed。 Occasionally； with a
fine round dash into the open； the trail drew one side to a stage…station。
The huge stables； the wide corrals； the low living…houses； each shut in its
dooryard of blazing riotous flowers； were all familiar。 Only lacked the
old…fashioned Concord coach； from which to descend Jack Hamlin or
Judge Starbottle。 As for M'liss； she was there； sunbonnet and all。
Down in the gulch bottoms were the old placer diggings。 Elaborate
little ditches for the deflection of water； long cradles for the separation of
gold； decayed rockers； and shining in the sun the tons and tons of pay dirt
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THE MOUNTAINS
which had been turned over pound by pound in the concentrating of its
treasure。 Some of the old cabins still stood。 It was all deserted now；
save for the few who kept trail for the freighters； or who tilled the
restricted bottom…lands of the flats。 Road…runners racked away down the
paths； squirrels scurried over worn…out placers； jays screamed and
chattered in and out of the abandoned cabins。 Strange and shy little
creatures and birds； reassured by the silence of many years； had ventured
to take to themselves the engines of man's industry。 And the warm
California sun embalmed it all in a peaceful forgetfulness。
Now the trees grew bigger； and the hills more impressive。 We should
call them mountains in the East。 Pines covered them to the top； straight
slender pines with voices。 The little flats were planted with great oaks。
When we rode through them； they shut out the hills； so that we might have
imagined ourselves in the level wooded country。 There insisted the effect
of limitless tree…grown plains； which the warm drowsy sun； the park…like
landscape； corroborated。 And yet the contrast of the clear atmosphere
and the sharp air equally insisted on the mountains。 It was a strange and
delicious double effect； a contradiction of natural impressions； a negation
of our right to generalize from previous experience。
Always the trail wound up and up。 Never was it steep； never did it
command an outlook。 Yet we felt that at last we were rising； were
leaving the level of the Inferno； were nearing the threshold of the high
country。
Mountain peoples came to the edges of their clearings and gazed at us；
responding solemnly to our salutations。 They dwelt in cabins and held to
agriculture and the herding of the wild mountain cattle。 From them we
heard of the high country to which we were bound。 They spoke of it as
you or I would speak of interior Africa； as something inconceivably
remote； to be visited only by the adventurous； an uninhabited realm of vast
magnitude and unknown dangers。 In the same way they spoke of the
plains。 Only the narrow pine…clad strip between the two and six thousand
feet of elevation they felt to be their natural environment。 In it they
found the proper conditions for their existence。 Out of it those conditions
lacked。 They were as much a localized product as are certain plants
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THE MOUNTAINS
which occur only at certain altitudes。 Also were they densely ignorant of
trails and routes outside of their own little districts。
All this； you will understand； was in what is known as the low country。
The landscape was still brown； the streams but trickles； sage…brush clung
to the ravines； the valley quail whistled on the side hills。
But one day we came suddenly into the big pines and rocks； and that
very night we made our first camp in a meadow typical of the mountains
we had dreamed about。
THE PINES
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THE MOUNTAINS
VIII
THE PINES
I do not know exactly how to make you feel the charm of that first
camp in the big country。 Certainly I can never quite repeat it in my
own experience。
Remember that for two months we had grown accustomed to the
brown of the California landscape； and that for over a week we had
traveled in the Inferno。 We had forgotten the look of green grass； of
abundant water； almost had we forgotten the taste of cool air。 So
invariably had the trails been dusty； and the camping…places hard and
exposed； that we had come subconsciously to think of such as typical of
the country。 Try to put yourself in the frame of mind those conditions
would make。
Then imagine yourself climbing in an hour or so up into a high ridge
country of broad cup…like sweeps and bold outcropping ledges。 Imagine
a forest of pine…trees bigger than any pines you ever saw before；pines
eight and ten feet through； so huge that you can hardly look over one of
their prostrate trunks even from the back of your pony。 Imagine； further；
singing little streams of ice…cold water； deep refreshing shadows； a soft
carpet of pine…needles through which the faint furrow of the trail runs as
over velvet。 And then； last of all； in a wide opening； clear as though
chopped and plowed by some back… woodsman； a park of grass； fresh
grass； green as a precious stone。
This was our first sight of the mountain meadows。 From time to time
we found others； sometimes a half dozen in a day。 The rough country
came down close about them； edging to the very hair…line of the magic
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