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Page 159 text:
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THE QUlET SOLITUDE OF DEATH VALLEY -' OON-the middle of an endless day on this endless plain from which few escape. The sand, gritty, glittering, blinding to the traveler, ever-shifting, disturbs the mind of the sanest of men. The i everlasting stillness, almost frightening in its vast, grasping domains, weakens the strongest of hearts. The vulture sits on the peak of some barren rock that overlooks the entire country. He,'who is as venomous as a rattler, watches for the slightest movement or sign of life. A vulture is the final knell of the death-bell, tolling continuously on this life-taking plain. The heat in the middle of this endless day is terrible to encounter, dry -so dry it shrivels the skin, parching the throat, makes one mad from lack of water. It shrivels and curls the toughest of the everlastingly gray cactus, which in its own silent, majestic way reminds one of grave, silent, tall tombstones of the dead on this sun baked desert. One shivers when he notices a pile of bleached, sun-whitened bones, suggestive of those long dead. The trail is in reality the ruts from wheels of unknown wagon trains. It lies half buried under the ever shifting sands, winding-a tale of countless 2lgCS. 1 r 1 Joan Steep, A9 One Hundred Fifty 'three
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Page 158 text:
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THE ORIGINOF THEBUTTERFLY the long ago some little elves lived in a beautiful green forest. It was a warm day in summer. eAll the spring duties has beenailoiie, such as decorating the trees with fresh green leaves and pai1'iti'iiQfft1ie ' ' I flowers. The elves 'xVC1'C very lonesome and Wanted -some eiiteltiginl ment. All at once a little fellow jumped up and said, ccWOUldll,t it be fun to have a cloud to play with! They all agreed. w - A net was made of spider web, and they llevv up to -arosy cloud. They caught it and brought it down, but alas! They could not get it through the trees. They tugged until they tore it to bits. The bits Hew away among the trees, glittering in all the colors of the rainbow. These bits of clouds were called butterflies, and they still flit about today. Lepha Jurgefzs, .179 OLD MAN SALT ,,g COW hand on our ranch in New Mexico, Old Man Salt, used 'Q to tell this tale to me. I have related it as nearly as possible in his dialect. I-Ie was quite a character in the vicinity and very famous I for his stories. When I was about eight year ole I had an experience jest this side them Chico hills. I was livin' close to the two knob mountain you can see plain frum here. The Indians catched me. A little afore, my father had a fight with six of 'em on top lVIalapes lVIountains. He killed five of 'em, and left them there, swellin' and rottin' in the sun. The sixth got away, come back with the chief and a lot of 'em. They was 'fraid of my father, so they watched and got me. Sneaked upon me when I was aways frum the house, down in a arroya. Was down thar playin' with a rattle snake. Used to think it fun to get a snake, half kill 'em, put my foot on his head, cut hide off 'round his neck, peel it right off, turn his loose and see him cut didoes. Couldn't crawl, you know, would stand right up on his 'tail and wiggle 'round 'till he'd look like a cork screw. I was down thar chewin' terbaker, had lheerd the punchers say that if you spit terbaker on a rattle snakes back it would kill 'emg I was gaing to prove it to myself. T'hey sneaked up on me when I was tryin' it out. Got me, an tortured me every ways for three days. Then as I was still alive they got tired, I guess. They come across an old molasses barrel, where a outfit had ben campin'. They took out the top. put me in it, and put the top back on. Left the bung hole open fir air so I'd die slow of hunger. Then they left. In a few hours I heerd a noise outsideg I peeked thru the bung hole. A big bear was lickin' molasses from around that bung hole. I let him liek. Finally the bear turned and rubbed his hips agin the barrel, his tail hung over the hole. I reached out with my finger and pulled the tail in, got a good hold with both hands, and hollered. He took out for the pinons, me hangin' on. Finally he slammed the barrel agin' a tree. It busted and I got out. Now you believe that, don't you ? he'd say. , i I said that I did to be aflable to the queer old fellow. . Well, by gad, I don't,f' he drawled. ,, , . ' i Illartha Chapin, .49 One H u nd red Fifty-two
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