Cedar Falls gazette. [volume] (Cedar Falls, Iowa) 1860-1895, 1864-07-15
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LOST In THE SlERRAS.
by DAN DE QuILLE

|
"'- .@>@ by DAN DE QuILLE
How silent are the Scrras in their topmost
icights-where the bare gray peaks stand
about in groups, holding up between them
the little platter.like valeysl We must 20
and stand on the edge of these valleys Now
we feel the silence OF the place resting on us
are awed by the tall fiownng peaks. See,
a gloom in the west has risen up and red
dened, hiding the afternoon sun. What in
this place lone tnan and his horse? How
tired are both how slowly drag their steps
Now they halt. The man turns and looks
about him--thc tired beast hangs its head
and stands motionless, glad of u moments
rest. Before them daIkly frowning, is grey
walled canon. 1t is dcep-how deep we eau
not see, for in its bottom squatS gloomy
Dusk unsmiling, save grimly, she sits how
ering over the brood of terrors as a hen
spreads out her wings over her young. The
lost stand bcwldered, benumbcd they only
know that they are high up in the Sierras
Their knees botray their fears and their wea-
riness. How very silent il is here. The tall
gray rocks stand about like voceless ghosts
Along the narrow fats and on the steep, un-
safe slopes are grouped the white bones OF
liteless groves OF juniper---they are bleached
as stag horns on a plain--aS the bones OF
soldiers on battle field. Did they die OF
the great silence? Evcning is drawing near
but the blackness of her robes is not all her
own. The lost man sees the gathering dark
ness, is uneasy, Winter is near, he knows
the tTeachery OF the season; alas, why did
he ventureg Gold, for which all risk life,
tempted him. His tagged steed bends his
ears to and fro uncasily, turns and snufs to.
wards the west. There is weight--mosture
in the coming gloom. Undecided. the lost
n,an looks about him: like sea the deep
silence roars in his ears Now fragments of
clouds, slow moving, approach and drag
along the ground close beside him. Dusk
rises up threa.eningly from her lair in the
abyss and stands before him she stretches
her arms about the base Of the mountains
her terrors creep along the low Iavines. skulk
ing from bush to bush. Where shall the
lost mah turn? Hark! house dog bays
from the door step OF his masters cabin
was that the tinkla Of COW bell /? No; these
sounds belong miles below /; echoing memo
ry for a moment cheated him. Hist what
is that like the long drawn sigh of ghost
breaks the silence How quickly the lost
man turns. Pshaw twas bat the voice OF
the wind, awed to a whisper, rebuked by the
dread presence OF Silence He felt it on his
cheek, yet, in that timid whisper, it said
| much to him. He understood and shuddcr
ed. His steed dropped his head still lower
and shook his shaggy sides till the pack on
his back clattered again the poor beast un.
derstood what was whispered by the breeze
There was no snow on his back, not yet, but
he believed what the wind told him. The
clatter OF the pack was not loud, but the lost
man looked quickly about him he feared
the huge peaks might be startled into anger.
Great patches of mist float against the tall,
gray peaks, and breaking roll down their
sides. At last the lost move. Driving the
weary horse before him the lost man gazes
earnestly toward what looks like the black
shadow Of cloud, dark spot far below
miles away. 1t is a grove of living frees he
sees, hrs in a mountain gorge. Rugged are
the ways Of the wilderness. and the feet Of
the weary find many stumbling places.
| Weary is the lost man; weary is the beast
he urges Bruises rebuke his haste, and
stubborn shrubs rear their antlered heads
and on his flesh and garments avenee his
contempt for them The wind whispers more
| boldly, sighs pass along the ground. 'Tis
| yet far to the grove, to where the frs stand
dark and silent. How tmidly the lost man
glances upon the heaped and various rocks
as he hastens past themg H. is foolish to
| be afraid. There are no faces looking Mt him
over their Jagged tOps-no faces peeping
| from their dusky chnks How dark it
grows; who can now see the tops of the
hoary peaks around whose eve look into
the darkness at their feet? Soon the ignomes
of the mountains will be aoroad, the ghosts
| Of the dead races walk The lost man puts
his hand quickly to his cheek he gazes in
fear on the gloom Of the sky urges his steed
| forward with hoarse and hurried voice, for
he has felt the fall Of the first snow fake ~
| His strange eyes have still in vi.w the dark
| frs, but it is still far to their shelter. 81
! lencc no longer regns the winds, at first so
timiJ have come in all their strength, and
now howl victoriously through his domin-
| ions. Hark ! Are not the ghosts of the dead
races at battle with the gnomes? No; It's
but the laugh of the gray wolf, seated at the
mouth Of his cave. Now the snow sifts heav
| lily down, and wearily drag on the horse and
man YEARLY lifting their. snow numbered
| feet AT last, oh, at last ! the shelter of the
| grove Is gained. The wolf still is laughing,
| seated by his den; but the shelter Of the frs
4 is good, the.sn0w cannot come near, but it
! hastens TO raise a wall about their trees
4 Grateful is his fire of sticks to the chilled
feet of the wanderer; tn storm is forgotten
while he slumbers. Lot gnomes and ghostly
warriors battle let the gray wolf laugh on /!
The lost man sleeps, and the hungry steed.
with his nose in the e,nbers. dreams of the
green grass Of the lower valleys. The red
light Of the morning sun burns on the snow,
and the sleeping awake Oh, sun, mock not
with your brightness for the snow wall is
high; gazing on it the heart Of the los, man
stands still The snow laden boughs of hi.
tree are weighed down, they rest % the en-
crcling drifts. What n sweet fairy palace
our lost man has But he viii no, look oi,
Its walls he sits, now ant lnntirrs Who's
are the names he spea 50 Whv dos he no,
be merry and sing and dance in his pratt,
snow mansion? His hands are clasped aboui
his khees-he rocks to and fro-those are
not tears on his cheek--no, ne is fond of his
pretty house. perhaps. ne il about to sing
| Why docs he 60 to his dumb companion and
embrace his neck Is il for joyp Why
does the horse lean his head so quietly agains,
his mast r. cheek? He should frsk--frsk
But they will not stay-see, they are going