Cabin Fever - Page 37/118

Soon after this they arrived at the place where Thompson had located his

claim. It was desert, of course, sloping away on one side to a dreary

waste of sand and weeds with now and then a giant cactus standing

gloomily alone with malformed lingers stretched stiffly to the staring

blue sky. Behind where they pitched their final camp--Camp 48, Cash

Markham recorded it in his diary--the hills rose. But they were as stark

and barren almost as the desert below. Black rock humps here and there,

with ledges of mineral bearing rock. Bushes and weeds and dry washes for

the rest, with enough struggling grass to feed the horses and burros if

they rustled hard enough for it.

They settled down quietly to a life of grinding monotony that would have

driven some men crazy. But Bud, because it was a man's kind of monotony,

bore it cheerfully. He was out of doors, and he was hedged about by no

rules or petty restrictions. He liked Cash Markham and he liked Pete,

his saddle horse, and he was fond of Daddy who was still paying the

penalty of seeking too carelessly for shade and, according to Cash's

record, "getting it in his mouth, tongue, feet & all over body." Bud

liked it--all except the blistering heat and the "side-winders"

and other rattlers. He did not bother with trying to formulate any

explanation of why he liked it. It may have been picturesque, though

picturesqueness of that sort is better appreciated when it is seen

through the dim radiance of memory that blurs sordid details. Certainly

it was not adventurous, as men have come to judge adventure.

Life droned along very dully. Day after day was filled with petty

details. A hill looks like a mountain if it rises abruptly out of a

level plain, with no real mountains in sight to measure it by. Here's

the diary to prove how little things came to look important because the

days held no contrasts. If it bores you to read it, think what it must

have been to live it.

June 10.

Up at 6:30 Baked till 11. Then unrigged well and rigged up an incline

for the stock to water. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Stock did not come in

all morning, but Monte & Pete came in before supper. Incline water shaft

does not work. Prospected & found 8 ledges. Bud found none.

June 11.

After breakfast fixed up shack--shelves, benches, tools, etc. Cleaned

guns. Bud dressed Daddy's back which is much better. Strong gold in test

of ledge, I found below creek. Took more specimens to sample. Cora comes

in with a little black colt newly born. Proud as a bull pup with two

tails. Monte & Pete did not come in so we went by lantern light a mile

or so down the wash & found them headed this way & snake them in to

drink about 80 gallons of water apiece. Daddy tied up and howling like a

demon all the while. Bud took a bath.