When the sun sets in the East, it is like turning
off the gas; you are left in darkness suddenly, without any intervening
twilight. As a fact one knows this perfectly well; but habit is stronger
than reason, and day after day I went on being perplexed, and often
unready for the "early-closing" system.
"Water we must have," said I to the Wallack. "Let us strike off from the
direct route and follow the lead of this valley, we shall find water in
the bottom for a certainty."
We hurried forward, leading our horses through the thick undercover,
always diving deeper into the ravine. At length I discovered a trickling
amongst the stones, and a little farther on we came upon a grassy spot
beneath some enormous pine-trees. It was an ideal place for a bivouac!
When the horses had been carefully picketed, we proceeded to make a fire
and cook our supper, which consisted of gipsy-meat and tea.
The meal finished to my perfect satisfaction, (how good everything
tastes under such circumstances!) I then stretched myself on a sloping
bank overspread by a thick covering of dry _needle-wood_, as the Germans
call the leaves of the fir-tree. How soft and clean it felt, and how
sweet the aromatic perfume that pervaded the whole place! Lighting my
pipe, I gave myself up to the perfect enjoyment of repose amidst this
romantic scene. The Wallack, covered by his fur _bunda_, was already
asleep, and save the bubbling of the water in the little stream, and the
crackling of the fire, there was absolutely not a sound or a breath.
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