Good fortune guided this way a party of Yosemite Indians, who were
returning from an extended hunt for deer and elk. They had also slain a
few bears and a couple of mountain lions. The dead horse first arrested
their attention, and then the exhausted miner was found asleep covered
with snow. The Indians wrapped the sick man at once in a grizzly bear
skin, fastened him to a pony, and carried him to their camp near the big
trees. It was morning before Alfonso was conscious of his surroundings.
Standing by him was a shy Indian maiden with a dish of hot soup. His bed,
he discovered was in a burned-out cavity of one of the big trees. Near by
were several tepees, the tops of which emitted smoke. Straight,
black-haired Indians in bright blankets moved slowly from tent to tent.
Alfonso scarcely conscious had strange dreams. Sometimes he thought he
was in the Hodoo Region, or Goblin Land, the abode of evil spirits, where
he saw every kind of fantastic beast, bird, and reptile, and no end of
spectral shapes in the winding passages of a weird labyrinth on a far-off
island. Then his dreams were of rare beauty. Green foliage was changed to
pure white, the trees became laden with sparkling crystals, roadways and
streams were laid in shining silver, and geyser-craters enlarged in
strange forms resembled huge white thrones in gorgeous judgment halls.
Pages:
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335