Part 77 (2/2)
”Well,” said California John, ”a good share of it _is_ claimed by the Power Company; and unless you come up the way we did, you don't see it.
From below, all this looks like part of the bald ridge. Even if a cruiser in the old days happened to look down on this, he wouldn't realize how good it was unless he came down to it--it's all just trees from above. And in those days there were lots of trees easier to come at.”
”It's great timber!” repeated Bob. ”That 'sugar's' eight feet through if it's an inch!”
”Nearer nine,” said California John.
”It'll be some years' work to estimate and plot all this,” mused Bob.
”If it's so important a watershed, what do they _want_ it plotted for?
They'll never want to cut it.”
”There ain't so much of it left, as you'll see when you look at your map. The Power Company owns most. Anyway, government cutting won't hurt the watershed,” stated California John.
As they rode forward through the trees, a half-dozen deer jumped startled from a clump of low brush and sped away.
”That's more deer than I've seen in a bunch since I left Michigan,”
observed Bob.
”n.o.body ever gets into this place,” explained California John. ”There ain't been a fire here in years, and we don't none of us have any reason to ride down. She's too hard to get out of, and we can see her too well from the lookout. The rest of the country feels pretty much the same way.”
”How about sheep?” inquired Elliott.
”They got to get in over some trail, if they get in at all,” California John pointed out, ”and we can circle the Basin.”
By now they were riding over a bed of springy pine needles through a magnificent open forest. Undergrowth absolutely lacked; even the soft green of the bear clover was absent. The straight columns of the trees rose grandly from a swept floor. Only where tiny streams trickled and sang through rocks and shallow courses, grew ferns and the huge leaves of the saxifrage. In this temple-like austerity dwelt a silence unusual to the Sierra forests. The lack of undergrowth and younger trees implied a scarcity of insects; and this condition meant an equal scarcity of birds. Only the creepers and the great pileated woodp.e.c.k.e.rs seemed to inhabit these truly cloistral shades. The breeze pa.s.sed through branches too elevated to permit its whisperings to be heard. The very sound of the horses' hoofs was m.u.f.fled in the thick carpet of pine needles.
California John led them sharp to the right, however, and in a few moments they emerged to cheerful sunlight, alders, young pines among the old, a leaping flas.h.i.+ng stream of some size, and mult.i.tudes of birds, squirrels, insects and b.u.t.terflies.
”There's a meadow, and a good camping place just up-stream,” said he.
”It's easy riding. You'd better spread your blankets there. Now, here's the corner to 34. We reestablished it four years ago, so as to have _something_ to go by in this country. You can find your way about from there. That bold cliff of rock you see just through the trees there you can climb. From the top you can make out the lookout. If you're wanted at headquarters we'll hang out a signal. That will save a hard ride down. Let's see; how long you got grub for?”
”I guess there's enough to last us ten days or so,” replied Elliott.
”Well, if you keep down this stream until you strike a big bald slide rock, you'll run into an old trail that takes you to the Flats. It's pretty old, and it ain't blazed, but you can make it out if you'll sort of keep track of the country. It ain't been used for years.”
California John, anxious to make a start at the hard climb, now said good-bye and started back. Bob and Elliott, their pack horse following, rode up the flat through which ran the river. They soon found the meadow. It proved to be a beautiful spot, surrounded by cedars, warm with the sun, bright with colour, alive with birds. A fringe of azaleas, cottonwoods and quaking asps screened it completely from all that lay outside its charmed circle. A cheerful blue sky spread its canopy overhead. Here Bob and Elliott turned loose their horses and made their camp. After lunch they lay on their backs and smoked. Through a notch in the trees showed a very white mountain against a very blue sky. The sun warmed them gratefully. Birds sang. Squirrels scampered. Their horses stood dozing, ears and head down-drooped, eyes half-closed, one hind leg tucked up.
”Confound it!” cried Elliott suddenly, following his unspoken thought.
”I feel like a bad little boy stealing jam! By night I'll be scared. If those woods over behind that screen aren't full of large, dignified G.o.ds that disapprove of me being so cheerful and contented and light-minded and frivolous, I miss my guess!”
”Same here!” said Bob with, a short laugh. ”Let's get busy.”
They started out that very afternoon from the corner California John had showed them. It took all that day and most of the following to define and blaze the boundaries of the first tract they intended to estimate.
In the accomplishment of this they found nothing out of the ordinary; but when they began to move forward across the forty, they were soon brought to a halt by the unexpected.
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