My First Summer 



shuffling, shambling, wallowing toward me 

 as if they had no bones in their bodies. Had 

 I discovered them while they were yet a 

 good way off, I should have tried to avoid 

 them. What a picture they made contrasted 

 with the others I had just been admiring. 

 When I came up to them, I found that they 

 were only a band of Indians from Mono on 

 their way to Yosemite for a load of acorns. 

 They were wrapped in blankets made of 

 the skins of sage-rabbits. The dirt on some 

 of the faces seemed almost old enough and 

 thick enough to have a geological signifi- 

 cance ; some were strangely blurred and di- 

 vided into sections by seams and wrinkles 

 that looked like cleavage joints, and had a 



worn abraded look as if thev had lain ex- 



j 



posed to the weather for ages. I tried to pass 

 them without stopping, but they would n't 

 let me; forming a dismal circle about me, 

 I was closely besieged while they begged 

 whiskey or tobacco, and it was hard to con- 

 vince them that I had n't any. How glad I 



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