CHAPTER IX.
WAITING UNDER THE MADROÑO.
Dreaming of the Tropics again.—The Honey-Bee in California.—A Good Joke on the Bear.—In the Valley of the Shadow.—Nina Hermosa.—On the Red Desert.—Fair Alfaretto.—Burning the Mezquites.—The Curse of the White Man.—A Wild Night's Ride in the Sierra.
Here, under the great Madrono, on the gently-sloping hillside we, the trout-fishing party, the Doctor, with his Henry rifle, moodily bent on somebody or something, he cares little what, so that it is large and dangerous—a grizzly, if he can find him; a California lion, if one comes in his way; a wild-cat, or an eagle, if nothing better offers; or possibly, by the rarest good fortune, a specimen of the mighty mountain vulture of California, first cousin to and almost the counterpart of the giant condor of the Andes—and myself, less aspiring hunter after pigeons, and such small game, were to meet and lunch after our morning's wanderings in the mountains. "I am either the first man up, or blamedly belated!" remarked the incorrigible drunkard, as he awoke in the coffin, in which his appreciative friends, by way of experiment, had conveyed him to the cemetery and left him beside a new-made grave; sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around him under the impression
