Roughing It by Mark Twain

at our own inquest.

But things cannot last always. Just as the darkness shut down we came

booming into port, head on. Higbie dropped his oars to hurrah–I dropped

mine to help–the sea gave the boat a twist, and over she went!

The agony that alkali water inflicts on bruises, chafes and blistered

hands, is unspeakable, and nothing but greasing all over will modify it–

but we ate, drank and slept well, that night, notwithstanding.

In speaking of the peculiarities of Mono Lake, I ought to have mentioned

that at intervals all around its shores stand picturesque turret-looking

masses and clusters of a whitish, coarse-grained rock that resembles

inferior mortar dried hard; and if one breaks off fragments of this rock

he will find perfectly shaped and thoroughly petrified gulls’ eggs deeply

imbedded in the mass. How did they get there? I simply state the fact–

for it is a fact–and leave the geological reader to crack the nut at his

leisure and solve the problem after his own fashion.

At the end of a week we adjourned to the Sierras on a fishing excursion,

and spent several days in camp under snowy Castle Peak, and fished

successfully for trout in a bright, miniature lake whose surface was

between ten and eleven thousand feet above the level of the sea; cooling

ourselves during the hot August noons by sitting on snow banks ten feet

deep, under whose sheltering edges fine grass and dainty flowers

flourished luxuriously; and at night entertaining ourselves by almost

freezing to death. Then we returned to Mono Lake, and finding that the

cement excitement was over for the present, packed up and went back to

Esmeralda. Mr. Ballou reconnoitred awhile, and not liking the prospect,

set out alone for Humboldt.

About this time occurred a little incident which has always had a sort of

interest to me, from the fact that it came so near “instigating” my

funeral. At a time when an Indian attack had been expected, the citizens

hid their gunpowder where it would be safe and yet convenient to hand

when wanted. A neighbor of ours hid six cans of rifle powder in the

bake-oven of an old discarded cooking stove which stood on the open

ground near a frame out-house or shed, and from and after that day never

thought of it again. We hired a half-tamed Indian to do some washing for

us, and he took up quarters under the shed with his tub. The ancient

stove reposed within six feet of him, and before his face. Finally it

occurred to him that hot water would be better than cold, and he went out

and fired up under that forgotten powder magazine and set on a kettle of

water. Then he returned to his tub.

I entered the shed presently and threw down some more clothes, and was

about to speak to him when the stove blew up with a prodigious crash, and

disappeared, leaving not a splinter behind. Fragments of it fell in the

streets full two hundred yards away. Nearly a third of the shed roof

over our heads was destroyed, and one of the stove lids, after cutting a

small stanchion half in two in front of the Indian, whizzed between us

and drove partly through the weather-boarding beyond. I was as white as

a sheet and as weak as a kitten and speechless. But the Indian betrayed

no trepidation, no distress, not even discomfort. He simply stopped

washing, leaned forward and surveyed the clean, blank ground a moment,

and then remarked:

“Mph! Dam stove heap gone!”–and resumed his scrubbing as placidly as if

it were an entirely customary thing for a stove to do. I will explain,

that “heap” is “Injun-English” for “very much.” The reader will perceive

the exhaustive expressiveness of it in the present instance.

CHAPTER XL.

I now come to a curious episode–the most curious, I think, that had yet

accented my slothful, valueless, heedless career. Out of a hillside

toward the upper end of the town, projected a wall of reddish looking

quartz-croppings, the exposed comb of a silver-bearing ledge that

extended deep down into the earth, of course. It was owned by a company

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