312 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA 



The gray, boulder-chafed river was singing loudly 

 through the valley, but above its massy roar I 

 heard the booming of a waterfall, which drew me 

 eagerly on ; and just as I emerged from the tangled 

 groves and brier-thickets at the head of the valley, 

 the main fork of the river came in sight, falling 

 fresh from its glacier fountains in a snowy cas 

 cade, between granite walls 2000 feet high. The 

 steep incline down which the glad waters thundered 

 seemed to bar all farther progress. It was not 

 long, however, before I discovered a crooked seam 

 in the rock, by which I was enabled to climb to 

 the edge of a terrace that crosses the canon, and 

 divides the cataract nearly in the middle. Here 

 I sat down to take breath and make some entries 

 in my note-book, taking advantage, at the same 

 time, of my elevated position above the trees to 

 gaze back over the valley into the heart of the 

 noble landscape, little knowing the while what 

 neighbors were near. 



After spending a few minutes in this way, I 

 chanced to look across the fall, and there stood 

 three sheep quietly observing me. Never did the 

 sudden appearance of a mountain, or fall, or hu 

 man friend more forcibly seize and rivet my at 

 tention. Anxiety to observe accurately held me 

 perfectly still. Eagerly I marked the flowing un 

 dulations of their firm, braided muscles, their 

 strong legs, ears, eyes, heads, their graceful rounded 

 necks, the color of their hair, and the bold, up 

 sweeping curves of their noble horns. When they 

 moved I watched every gesture, while they, in no 

 wise disconcerted either by my attention or by the 



