Here again I, being lighter, had no difficulty
in keeping ahead of him. While resting after wearisome staggering and
falling he stared at the marvelous ranks of leaning blades, and said, "I
think I have traveled all sorts of trails and canyons, through all kinds
of brush and snow, but this gets me."
Mr. Clark at my urgent request joined my small party on a trip to the
Kings River yosemite by way of the high mountains, most of the way
without a trail. He joined us at the Mariposa Big Tree grove and
intended to go all the way, but finding that, on account of the
difficulties encountered, the time required was much greater than he
expected, he turned back near the head of the north fork of the Kings
River.
In cooking his mess of oatmeal porridge and making tea, his pot was
always the first to boil, and I used to wonder why, with all his skill
in scrambling through brush in the easiest way, and preparing his meals,
he was so utterly careless about his beds. He would lie down anywhere on
any ground, rough or smooth, without taking pains even to remove cobbles
or sharp-angled rocks protruding through the grass or gravel, saying
that his own bones were as hard as any stones and could do him no harm.
His kindness to all Yosemite visitors and mountaineers was marvelously
constant and uniform.
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