Meadow and Mountain 



ote's call. It was on this night that Wewoka had the dream in 

 the desert. He was joined in his journey by a Piute Indian. As 

 they walked together day by day the Piute told of a wond- 

 rous mountain that sang strange and sweet songs at nightfall. 



As evening wore on into the night there was a delicious 

 hint of humidity in the air. The bare suggestion of damp- 

 ness is a relief in the dewless desert. As dusk and dreams 

 gradually crept over the weary Wewoka, an exquisite odor 

 arose from the sage-brush couch. The cool night winds coax 

 the aroma from this silver-leafed shrub of the sands. And 

 night or day, when the traveler's feet press the wild sage's 

 pungent pods, it gives forth the sweetest scent. 



As the Piute discoursed of "The Musical Mountain,'* 

 Wewoka was hushed with a wordless wonder. He wist not 

 that the Piute pilgrim, who had joined him on the desert 

 sands, and the mountain's music were woven of slumbrous 

 shadows by the spirit of dreams. 



The Piute told Wewoka how the chieftains of his tribes 

 in the olden times had camped at the base of the Musical 

 Mountain. He told him how the winds of the evenfall blew 

 melody from the mountain's crystal brow. Then the Piute 

 pilgrim sang the "Musical Mountain's" long-forgotten strains: 



Encamped at the base of a musical mountain, 

 Melody gushed as if from a fountain, 

 Till campers forgot their quest for gold, 

 As the dulcet notes in the twilight rolled ; 

 Some mystical fingers had smitten the strings 

 Of a magical harp hid under night's wings, 

 Or the elves of the breezes were crooning love's lay 

 To the old Truckee Mountains so wrinkled and gray; 

 The ravishing strains from the time-scarred brow 

 Of the symphonous mount, winds waft to me now 

 294 



