After a moment of profound stillness, there was again a subterranean
sound like a train in a tunnel, and the earth reeled again with such
violence that I felt as if the horse and myself had gone over. Poor
K. was nervous for some time afterwards. The motion was as violent
as that of a large ship in a mid-Atlantic storm. There were four
minor shocks within half an hour afterwards.
After crawling along for seven hours, and for the last two in a
dripping fog, so dense that I had to keep within kicking range of
the mules for fear of being lost, we heard the lowing of domestic
cattle, and came to a place where felled trees, very difficult for
the horses to cross, were lying. Then a rude boundary wall
appeared, inside of which was a small, poor-looking grass house,
consisting of one partially-divided room, with a small, ruinous-
looking cook-house, a shed, and an unfinished frame house. It
looked, and is, a disconsolate conclusion of a wet day's ride. I
rode into the corral, and found two or three very rough-looking
whites and half-whites standing, and addressing one of them, I found
he was Mr. Reid's manager there. I asked if they could give me a
night's lodging, which seemed a diverting notion to them; and they
said they could give me the rough accommodation they had, but it was
hard even for them, till the new house was put up.
Pages:
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468