58 , THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA 



that never fail to make themselves felt when one 

 is alone. 



I made my bed in a nook of the pine-thicket, 

 where the branches were pressed and crinkled over 

 head like a roof, and bent down around the sides. 

 These are the best bedchambers the high moun 

 tains afford snug as squirrel-nests, well ventilated, 

 full of spicy odors, and with plenty of wind-played 

 needles to sing one asleep. I little expected com 

 pany, but, creeping in through a low side-door, I 

 found five or six birds nestling among the tassels. 

 The night- wind began to blow soon after dark ; at 

 first only a gentle breathing, but increasing toward 

 midnight to a rough gale that fell upon my leafy 

 roof in ragged surges like a cascade, bearing wild 

 sounds from the crags overhead. The waterfall 

 sang in chorus, filling the old ice-fountain with its 

 solemn roar, and seeming to increase in power as 

 the night advanced fit voice for such a landscape. 

 I had to creep out many times to the fire during 

 the night, for it was biting cold and I had no 

 blankets. Gladly I welcomed the morning star. 



The dawn in the dry, wavering air of the desert 

 was glorious. Everything encouraged my under 

 taking and betokened success. There was no cloud 

 in the sky, no storm-tone in the wind. Breakfast 

 of bread and tea was soon made. I fastened a hard, 

 durable crust to my belt by way of provision, in case 

 I should be compelled to pass a night on the moun 

 tain-top ; then, securing the remainder of my little 

 stock against wolves and wood-rats, I set forth free 

 and hopeful. 



How glorious a greeting the sun gives the moun- 



