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subjects； had never heard of such a beast； thought myself
face to face with some incomparable sport of nature； and
began to cherish hopes of immortality in science。 Rarely
have I been conscious of a stranger thrill than when I raised
that singular creature from the stones； dry as a board； his
innocent heart long quiet； and all warm with sunshine。 His
long hind legs were stiff； his tiny forepaws clutched upon
his breast； as if to leap； his poor life cut short upon that
mountain by some unknown accident。 But the kangaroo rat； it
proved； was no such unknown animal； and my discovery was
nothing。
Crickets were not wanting。 I thought I could make out
exactly four of them； each with a corner of his own； who used
to make night musical at Silverado。 In the matter of voice；
they far excelled the birds； and their ringing whistle
sounded from rock to rock； calling and replying the same
thing； as in a meaningless opera。 Thus； children in full
health and spirits shout together； to the dismay of
neighbours； and their idle； happy； deafening vociferations
rise and fall； like the song of the crickets。 I used to sit
at night on the platform； and wonder why these creatures were
so happy； and what was wrong with man that he also did not
wind up his days with an hour or two of shouting； but I
suspect that all long…lived animals are solemn。 The dogs
alone are hardly used by nature； and it seems a manifest
injustice for poor Chuchu to die in his teens； after a life
so shadowed and troubled； continually shaken with alarm； and
the tear of elegant sentiment permanently in his eye。
There was another neighbour of ours at Silverado； small but
very active； a destructive fellow。 This was a black； ugly
fly … a bore； the Hansons called him … who lived by hundreds
in the boarding of our house。 He entered by a round hole；
more neatly pierced than a man could do it with a gimlet； and
he seems to have spent his life in cutting out the interior
of the plank； but whether as a dwelling or a store…house； I
could never find。 When I used to lie in bed in the morning
for a rest … we had no easy…chairs in Silverado … I would
hear； hour after hour； the sharp cutting sound of his
labours； and from time to time a dainty shower of sawdust
would fall upon the blankets。 There lives no more
industrious creature than a bore。
And now that I have named to the reader all our animals and
insects without exception … only I find I have forgotten the
flies … he will be able to appreciate the singular privacy
and silence of our days。 It was not only man who was
excluded： animals； the song of birds； the lowing of cattle；
the bleating of sheep； clouds even； and the variations of the
weather； were here also wanting； and as； day after day； the
sky was one dome of blue； and the pines below us stood
motionless in the still air； so the hours themselves were
marked out from each other only by the series of our own
affairs； and the sun's great period as he ranged westward
through the heavens。 The two birds cackled a while in the
early morning； all day the water tinkled in the shaft； the
bores ground sawdust in the planking of our crazy palace …
infinitesimal sounds； and it was only with the return of
night that any change would fall on our surroundings； or the
four crickets begin to flute together in the dark。
Indeed； it would be hard to exaggerate the pleasure that we
took in the approach of evening。 Our day was not very long；
but it was very tiring。 To trip along unsteady planks or
wade among shifting stones； to go to and fro for water； to
clamber down the glen to the Toll House after meat and
letters； to cook； to make fires and beds； were all exhausting
to the body。 Life out of doors； besides； under the fierce
eye of day； draws largely on the animal spirits。 There are
certain hours in the afternoon when a man； unless he is in
strong health or enjoys a vacant mind； would rather creep
into a cool corner of a house and sit upon the chairs of
civilization。 About that time； the sharp stones； the planks；
the upturned boxes of Silverado； began to grow irksome to my
body； I set out on that hopeless； never…ending quest for a
more comfortable posture； I would be fevered and weary of the
staring sun； and just then he would begin courteously to
withdraw his countenance； the shadows lengthened； the
aromatic airs awoke； and an indescribable but happy change
announced the coming of the night。
The hours of evening； when we were once curtained in the
friendly dark； sped lightly。 Even as with the crickets；
night brought to us a certain spirit of rejoicing。 It was
good to taste the air； good to mark the dawning of the stars；
as they increased their glittering company； good； too； to
gather stones； and send them crashing down the chute； a wave
of light。 It seemed； in some way； the reward and the
fulfilment of the day。 So it is when men dwell in the open
air； it is one of the simple pleasures that we lose by living
cribbed and covered in a house； that； though the coming of
the day is still the most inspiriting； yet day's departure；
also； and the return of night refresh； renew； and quiet us；
and in the pastures of the dusk we stand； like cattle；
exulting in the absence of the load。
Our nights wore never cold； and they were always still； but
for one remarkable exception。 Regularly； about nine o'clock；
a warm wind sprang up； and blew for ten minutes； or maybe a
quarter of an hour； right down the canyon； fanning it well
out； airing it as a mother airs the night nursery before the
children sleep。 As far as I could judge； in the clear
darkness of the night； this wind was purely local： perhaps
dependant on the configuration of the glen。 At least； it was
very welcome to the hot and weary squatters； and if we were
not abed already； the springing up of this lilliputian
valley…wind would often be our signal to retire。
I was the last to go to bed； as I was still the first to
rise。 Many a night I have strolled about the platform；
taking a bath of darkness before I slept。 The rest would be
in bed； and even from the forge I could hear them talking
together from bunk to bunk。 A single candle in the neck of a
pint bottle was their only illumination； and yet the old
cracked house seemed literally bursting with the light。 It
shone keen as a knife through all the vertical chinks； it
struck upward through the broken shingles； and through the
eastern door and window； it fell in a great splash upon the
thicket and the overhanging rock。 You would have said a
conflagration； or at the least a roaring forge； and behold；
it was but a candle。 Or perhaps it was yet more strange to
see the procession moving bedwards round the corner of the
house； and up the plank that brought us to the bedroom door；
under the immense spread of the sta