Curly and Mack, whom he had known as mild and jovial
companions of many interests and leisurely manners, changed in a
twinkling to monomaniacs who during every daylight hour except for the
short interim which they snatched for eating, sought for gold. At
first Enoch laughed at them and tried to get them to take an occasional
half day off in which to explore with him. But they curtly refused to
do this, so he fell back on his own resources. And he discovered that
the days were all too short. Curly had a gun. There was plenty of
ammunition. Quail and cottontails were to be found on the plateau
where the stock was grazing. Sometimes on Pablo, sometimes afoot,
Enoch with the gun, and sometimes with the black diary rolled in his
coat, scoured the surrounding country.
One golden afternoon he edged his way around the shoulder of a gnarled
and broken peak, in search of rabbits for supper. Just at the
outermost point of the shoulder he came upon a cedar twisting itself
about a broad, flat bowlder. Enoch instantly stopped the search for
game and dropped upon the rock, his back against the cedar. Lighting
his pipe, he gave himself up to contemplation of the view. Below him
yawned blue space, flecked with rose colored mists.
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