264 OUR NATIONAL PARKS 



ing the angry spirits of the rocks were trying to 

 kill them. The few whites wintering in the val- 

 ley were assembled in front of the old Hutchings 

 Hotel, comparing notes and meditating flight to 

 steadier ground, seemingly as sorely frightened as 

 the Indians. It is always interesting to see people 

 in dead earnest, from whatever cause, and earth- 

 quakes make everybody earnest. Shortly after 

 sunrise, a low blunt muffled rumbling, like distant 

 thunder, was followed by another series of 

 shocks, which, though not nearly so severe as 

 the first, made the cliffs and domes tremble like 

 jelly, and the big pines and oaks thrill and swish 

 and wave their branches with startling effect. 

 Then the groups of talkers were suddenly hushed, 

 and the solemnity on their faces was sublime. 

 One in particular of these winter neighbors, a 

 rather thoughtful, speculative man, with whom I 

 had often conversed, was a firm believer in the 

 cataclysmic origin of the valley ; and I now 

 jokingly remarked that his wild tumble-down- 

 and-engulf ment hypothesis might soon be proved, 

 since these underground rumblings and shakings 

 might be the forerunners of another Yosemite- 

 making cataclysm, which would perhaps double 

 the depth of the valley by swallowing the floor, 

 leaving the ends of the wagon roads and trails 

 three or four thousand feet in the air. Just then 

 came the second series of shocks, and it was fine 

 to see how awfully silent and solemn he became. 



