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after…heave of a storm； lay in our way。 Then we crossed a ravine。 It
was not much of a ravine； in fact it was more like a slight gouge in the
flatness of the country。 After that we began to see oak…trees； scattered at
rare intervals。 So interested were we in them that we did not notice rocks
beginning to outcrop through the soil until they had become numerous
enough to be a feature of the landscape。 The hills； gently； quietly；
without abrupt transition； almost as though they feared to awaken our
alarm by too abrupt movement of growth； glided from little swells to
bigger swells。 The oaks gathered closer together。 The ravine's brother
could almost be called a canon。 The character of the country had entirely
changed。
And yet； so gradually had this change come about that we did not
awaken to a full realization of our escape。 To us it was still the plain； a
trifle modified by local peculiarity； but presently to resume its wonted
aspect。 We plodded on dully； anodyned with the desert patience。
But at a little before noon； as we rounded the cheek of a slope； we
encountered an errant current of air。 It came up to us curiously； touched
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us each in turn； and went on。 The warm furnace heat drew in on us again。
But it had been a cool little current of air； with something of the sweetness
of pines and water and snow…banks in it。 The Tenderfoot suddenly reined
in his horse and looked about him。
〃Boys！〃 he cried； a new ring of joy in his voice； 〃we're in the foot…
hills！〃
Wes calculated rapidly。 〃It's the eighth day to…day： I guessed right
on the time。〃
We stretched our arms and looked about us。 They were dry brown
hills enough； but they were hills； and they had trees on them； and canons
in them； so to our eyes； wearied with flatness； they seemed wonderful。
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VII
THE FOOT…HILLS
At once our spirits rose。 We straightened in our saddles； we breathed
deep； we joked。 The country was scorched and sterile； the wagon…trail；
almost paralleling the mountains themselves on a long easy slant toward
the high country； was ankle…deep in dust； the ravines were still dry of
water。 But it was not the Inferno； and that one fact sufficed。 After a
while we crossed high above a river which dashed white water against
black rocks； and so were happy。
The country went on changing。 The change was always
imperceptible； as is growth； or the stealthy advance of autumn through the
woods。 From moment to moment one could detect no alteration。
Something intangible was taken away； something impalpable added。
At the end of an hour we were in the oaks and sycamores； at the end of
two we were in the pines and low mountains of Bret Harte's Forty…Nine。
The wagon…trail felt ever farther and farther into the hills。 It had not
been used as a stage…route for years； but the freighting kept it deep with
dust； that writhed and twisted and crawled lazily knee…high to our horses；
like a living creature。 We felt the swing and sweep of the route。 The
boldness of its stretches； the freedom of its reaches for the opposite slope；
the wide curve of its horseshoes； all filled us with the breath of an
expansion which as yet the broad low country only suggested。
Everything here was reminiscent of long ago。 The very names hinted
stories of the Argonauts。 Coarse Gold Gulch； Whiskey Creek； Grub
Gulch； Fine Gold Post…Office in turn we passed。 Occasionally； with a
fine round dash into the open； the trail drew one side to a stage…station。
The huge stables； the wide corrals； the low living…houses； each shut in its
dooryard of blazing riotous flowers； were all familiar。 Only lacked the
old…fashioned Concord coach； from which to descend Jack Hamlin or
Judge Starbottle。 As for M'liss； she was there； sunbonnet and all。
Down in the gulch bottoms were the old placer diggings。 Elaborate
little ditches for the deflection of water； long cradles for the separation of
gold； decayed rockers； and shining in the sun the tons and tons of pay dirt
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which had been turned over pound by pound in the concentrating of its
treasure。 Some of the old cabins still stood。 It was all deserted now；
save for the few who kept trail for the freighters； or who tilled the
restricted bottom…lands of the flats。 Road…runners racked away down the
paths； squirrels scurried over worn…out placers； jays screamed and
chattered in and out of the abandoned cabins。 Strange and shy little
creatures and birds； reassured by the silence of many years； had ventured
to take to themselves the engines of man's industry。 And the warm
California sun embalmed it all in a peaceful forgetfulness。
Now the trees grew bigger； and the hills more impressive。 We should
call them mountains in the East。 Pines covered them to the top； straight
slender pines with voices。 The little flats were planted with great oaks。
When we rode through them； they shut out the hills； so that we might have
imagined ourselves in the level wooded country。 There insisted the effect
of limitless tree…grown plains； which the warm drowsy sun； the park…like
landscape； corroborated。 And yet the contrast of the clear atmosphere
and the sharp air equally insisted on the mountains。 It was a strange and
delicious double effect； a contradiction of natural impressions； a negation
of our right to generalize from previous experience。
Always the trail wound up and up。 Never was it steep； never did it
command an outlook。 Yet we felt that at last we were rising； were
leaving the level of the Inferno； were nearing the threshold of the high
country。
Mountain peoples came to the edges of their clearings and gazed at us；
responding solemnly to our salutations。 They dwelt in cabins and held to
agriculture and the herding of the wild mountain cattle。 From them we
heard of the high country to which we were bound。 They spoke of it as
you or I would speak of interior Africa； as something inconceivably
remote； to be visited only by the adventurous； an uninhabited realm of vast
magnitude and unknown dangers。 In the same way they spoke of the
plains。 Only the narrow pine…clad strip between the two and six thousand
feet of elevation they felt to be their natural environment。 In it they
found the proper conditions for their existence。 Out of it those conditions
lacked。 They were as much a localized product as are certain plants
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which occur only at certain altitudes。 Also were they densely ignorant of
trails and routes outside of their own little districts。
All this； you will understand； was in what is known as the low country。
The landscape was still brown； the streams but trickles； sage…brush clung
to the ravines； the valley quail whistled on the side hills。
But one day we came suddenly into the big pines and rocks； and that
very night we made our first camp in a meadow typical of the mountains
we had dreamed about。
THE PINES
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VIII