In less time than it takes to tell it,
We were into the Great White Death,
With its millions of frozen snowflakes
A-takin' away our breath.
And jist then somethin' happened, pard,
The greaser from down Monterey
Tried to sneak off with the specie box,
Along with the passengers from Big Pine relay.
All at once a figure on hossback
Cum a-whoopin' it down the trail,
And bullets from out of a Winchester
Commenced to fly like hail.
The greaser and them two passengers
Cashed in their chips to him,
Fer the feller what wuz doin' the shootin'
Wuz my friend, Yosemite Jim.
Wall, we planted them thar together,
When the cloud had passed away;
And all they've got fer a tombstone
Is the mountains, dull and gray.
So, pard, let's take one together,
And I'll drink a toast to him,
Fer though he wuz rough and ready,
He'd a heart, YOSEMITE JIM.
The Great White Death, so named by the Indians,
occurs in the higher altitudes of the Rocky and Sierra
Nevada Mountains. It is almost indescribable. It might
properly be termed a frozen fog. It has the effect of
bringing on acute congestion of the lungs, from which
few rarely recover. Viewed at a distance it is a magnificent
sight, each and every particle of the frozen moisture
being a miniature prism, which reflects the sun's rays in
a manner once seen never to be forgotten.
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