the silverado squatters-第17章

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health　and　spirits　shout　together；　to　the　dismay　of　

neighbours；　and　their　idle；　happy；　deafening　vociferations　

rise　and　fall；　like　the　song　of　the　crickets。　　I　used　to　sit　

at　night　on　the　platform；　and　wonder　why　these　creatures　were　

so　happy；　and　what　was　wrong　with　man　that　he　also　did　not　

wind　up　his　days　with　an　hour　or　two　of　shouting；　but　I　

suspect　that　all　long…lived　animals　are　solemn。　　The　dogs　

alone　are　hardly　used　by　nature；　and　it　seems　a　manifest　

injustice　for　poor　Chuchu　to　die　in　his　teens；　after　a　life　

so　shadowed　and　troubled；　continually　shaken　with　alarm；　and　

the　tear　of　elegant　sentiment　permanently　in　his　eye。



There　was　another　neighbour　of　ours　at　Silverado；　small　but　

very　active；　a　destructive　fellow。　　This　was　a　black；　ugly　

fly　…　a　bore；　the　Hansons　called　him　…　who　lived　by　hundreds　

in　the　boarding　of　our　house。　　He　entered　by　a　round　hole；　

more　neatly　pierced　than　a　man　could　do　it　with　a　gimlet；　and　

he　seems　to　have　spent　his　life　in　cutting　out　the　interior　

of　the　plank；　but　whether　as　a　dwelling　or　a　store…house；　I　

could　never　find。　　When　I　used　to　lie　in　bed　in　the　morning　

for　a　rest　…　we　had　no　easy…chairs　in　Silverado　…　I　would　

hear；　hour　after　hour；　the　sharp　cutting　sound　of　his　

labours；　and　from　time　to　time　a　dainty　shower　of　sawdust　

would　fall　upon　the　blankets。　　There　lives　no　more　

industrious　creature　than　a　bore。



And　now　that　I　have　named　to　the　reader　all　our　animals　and　

insects　without　exception　…　only　I　find　I　have　forgotten　the　

flies　…　he　will　be　able　to　appreciate　the　singular　privacy　

and　silence　of　our　days。　　It　was　not　only　man　who　was　

excluded：　　animals；　the　song　of　birds；　the　lowing　of　cattle；　

the　bleating　of　sheep；　clouds　even；　and　the　variations　of　the　

weather；　were　here　also　wanting；　and　as；　day　after　day；　the　

sky　was　one　dome　of　blue；　and　the　pines　below　us　stood　

motionless　in　the　still　air；　so　the　hours　themselves　were　

marked　out　from　each　other　only　by　the　series　of　our　own　

affairs；　and　the　sun's　great　period　as　he　ranged　westward　

through　the　heavens。　　The　two　birds　cackled　a　while　in　the　

early　morning；　all　day　the　water　tinkled　in　the　shaft；　the　

bores　ground　sawdust　in　the　planking　of　our　crazy　palace　…　

infinitesimal　sounds；　and　it　was　only　with　the　return　of　

night　that　any　change　would　fall　on　our　surroundings；　or　the　

four　crickets　begin　to　flute　together　in　the　dark。



Indeed；　it　would　be　hard　to　exaggerate　the　pleasure　that　we　

took　in　the　approach　of　evening。　　Our　day　was　not　very　long；　

but　it　was　very　tiring。　　To　trip　along　unsteady　planks　or　

wade　among　shifting　stones；　to　go　to　and　fro　for　water；　to　

clamber　down　the　glen　to　the　Toll　House　after　meat　and　

letters；　to　cook；　to　make　fires　and　beds；　were　all　exhausting　

to　the　body。　　Life　out　of　doors；　besides；　under　the　fierce　

eye　of　day；　draws　largely　on　the　animal　spirits。　　There　are　

certain　hours　in　the　afternoon　when　a　man；　unless　he　is　in　

strong　health　or　enjoys　a　vacant　mind；　would　rather　creep　

into　a　cool　corner　of　a　house　and　sit　upon　the　chairs　of　

civilization。　　About　that　time；　the　sharp　stones；　the　planks；　

the　upturned　boxes　of　Silverado；　began　to　grow　irksome　to　my　

body；　I　set　out　on　that　hopeless；　never…ending　quest　for　a　

more　comfortable　posture；　I　would　be　fevered　and　weary　of　the　

staring　sun；　and　just　then　he　would　begin　courteously　to　

withdraw　his　countenance；　the　shadows　lengthened；　the　

aromatic　airs　awoke；　and　an　indescribable　but　happy　change　

announced　the　coming　of　the　night。



The　hours　of　evening；　when　we　were　once　curtained　in　the　

friendly　dark；　sped　lightly。　　Even　as　with　the　crickets；　

night　brought　to　us　a　certain　spirit　of　rejoicing。　　It　was　

good　to　taste　the　air；　good　to　mark　the　dawning　of　the　stars；　

as　they　increased　their　glittering　company；　good；　too；　to　

gather　stones；　and　send　them　crashing　down　the　chute；　a　wave　

of　light。　　It　seemed；　in　some　way；　the　reward　and　the　

fulfilment　of　the　day。　　So　it　is　when　men　dwell　in　the　open　

air；　it　is　one　of　the　simple　pleasures　that　we　lose　by　living　

cribbed　and　covered　in　a　house；　that；　though　the　coming　of　

the　day　is　still　the　most　inspiriting；　yet　day's　departure；　

also；　and　the　return　of　night　refresh；　renew；　and　quiet　us；　

and　in　the　pastures　of　the　dusk　we　stand；　like　cattle；　

exulting　in　the　absence　of　the　load。



Our　nights　wore　never　cold；　and　they　were　always　still；　but　

for　one　remarkable　exception。　　Regularly；　about　nine　o'clock；　

a　warm　wind　sprang　up；　and　blew　for　ten　minutes；　or　maybe　a　

quarter　of　an　hour；　right　down　the　canyon；　fanning　it　well　

out；　airing　it　as　a　mother　airs　the　night　nursery　before　the　

children　sleep。　　As　far　as　I　could　judge；　in　the　clear　

darkness　of　the　night；　this　wind　was　purely　local：　　perhaps　

dependant　on　the　configuration　of　the　glen。　　At　least；　it　was　

very　welcome　to　the　hot　and　weary　squatters；　and　if　we　were　

not　abed　already；　the　springing　up　of　this　lilliputian　

valley…wind　would　often　be　our　signal　to　retire。



I　was　the　last　to　go　to　bed；　as　I　was　still　the　first　to　

rise。　　Many　a　night　I　have　strolled　about　the　platform；　

taking　a　bath　of　darkness　before　I　slept。　　The　rest　would　be　

in　bed；　and　even　from　the　forge　I　could　hear　them　talking　

together　from　bunk　to　bunk。　　A　single　candle　in　the　neck　of　a　

pint　bottle　was　their　only　illumination；　and　yet　the　old　

cracked　house　seemed　literally　bursting　with　the　light。　　It　

shone　keen　as　a　knife　through　all　the　vertical　chinks；　it　

struck　upward　through　the　broken　shingles；　and　through　the　

eastern　door　and　window；　it　fell　in　a　great　splash　upon　the　

thicket　and　the　overhanging　rock。　　You　would　have　said　a　

conflagration；　or　at　the　least　a　roaring　forge；　and　behold；　

it　was　but　a　candle。　　Or　perhaps　it　was　yet　more　strange　to　

see　the　procession　moving　bedwards　round　the　corner　of　the　

house；　and　up　the　plank　that　brought　us　to　the　bedroom　door；　

under　the　immense　spread　of　the　starry　heavens；　down　in　a　

crevice　of　the　giant　mountain　these　few　human　shapes；　with　

their　unshielded　taper；　made　so　disproportionate　a　figure　in　

the　eye　and　mind。　　But　the　more　he　is　alone　with　nature；　the　

greater　man　and　his　doings　bulk　in　the　consideration　of　his　

fellow…men。　　Miles　and　miles　away　upon　the　opposite　hill…

tops；　if　there　were　any　hunter　belated　or　any　traveller　who　

had　lost　his　way；　he　must　have　stood；　and　watched　and　

wondered；　from　the　time　the　candle　issued　from　the　door　of　

the　assayer's　office　till　it　had　mounted　the　plank　and　

disappeared　again　into　the　miners'　dormitory。









End