The sun went down, and the last carmine tinges of his departed glory
reminded me how soon my sun would set; then the big burning tears
smothered me, for I was young, very young, and I could not command the
courage and resignation to die such a horrible death. Had I been wounded
in the field, leading my brave Shoshones, and hallooing the war-whoop, I
would have cared very little about it; but thus, like a dog! It was
horrible! and I dropped my head upon my knees, thinking how few hours I
had now to live.
I was awakened from that absorbing torpor by my poor horse, who was busy
licking my ears. The faithful animal suspected something was wrong, for
usually at such a time I would sing Spanish ditties or some Indian
war-songs. Sunset was also the time when I brushed and patted him. The
intelligent brute knew that I suffered, and, in its own way, showed me
that it participated in my affliction. My water, too, was boiling on the
fire, and the bubbling of the water seemed to be a voice raised on
purpose to divert my gloomy thoughts. "Aye, boil, bubble, evaporate,"
exclaimed I; "what do I care for water or tea now?"
Scarcely had I finished these words, when, turning suddenly my head
round, my attention was attracted by an object before me, and a gleam of
hope irradiated my gloomy mind: close to my feet I beheld five or six
stems of the rattlesnake master weed.
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