I
do
not
know
how
long
I
was
in
a
state
of
forgetfulness,
but
it
seemed
an
age. A
vague
consciousness
grew
upon
me
by
degrees,
and
then
came a
gathering
anguish
of
pain
in
my
limbs
and
through
all
my body. I shuddered.
The
thought
flitted
through
my brain, "this
is
death—this
is
the
hereafter."
Then
came a
white
upheaval
at
my side,
and
a voice said,
with
bitterness: "Will
some
gentleman
be
so
good
as
to
kick
me
behind?"
It
was
Ballou—at
least
it
was
a towzled
snow
image
in
a sitting posture,
with
Ballou's voice. I
rose
up,
and
there
in
the
gray
dawn,
not
fifteen
steps
from
us,
were
the
frame
buildings
of
a
stage
station,
and
under
a
shed
stood
our
still
saddled
and
bridled
horses!
An
arched snow-drift
broke
up, now,
and
Ollendorff
emerged
from
it,
and
the
three
of
us
sat
and
stared
at
the
houses
without
speaking
a word.
We
really had
nothing
to
say.
We
were
like
the
profane
man
who
could
not
"do
the
subject
justice,"
the
whole
situation
was
so
painfully
ridiculous
and
humiliating
that
words
were
tame
and
we
did
not
know
where
to
commence
anyhow.
The
joy
in
our
hearts
at
our
deliverance
was
poisoned;
well-nigh
dissipated, indeed.
We
presently began
to
grow pettish
by
degrees,
and
sullen;
and
then,
angry
at
each
other,
angry
at
ourselves,
angry
at
everything
in
general,
we
moodily dusted
the
snow
from
our
clothing
and
in
unsociable single
file
plowed
our
way
to
the
horses, unsaddled them,
and
sought
shelter
in
the
station. I
have
scarcely
exaggerated
a
detail
of
this
curious
and
absurd
adventure.
It
occurred
almost
exactly
as
I
have
stated
it.
We
actually went
into
camp
in
a snow-drift
in
a desert,
at
midnight
in
a storm,
forlorn
and
hopeless,
within
fifteen
steps
of
a
comfortable
inn.
For
two
hours
we
sat
apart
in
the
station
and
ruminated
in
disgust.
The
mystery
was
gone, now,
and
it
was
plain
enough
why
the
horses
had
deserted
us.
Without
a
doubt
they
were
under
that
shed
a
quarter
of
a
minute
after
they
had left us,
and
they
must
have
overheard
and
enjoyed
all
our
confessions
and
lamentations.
After
breakfast
we
felt better,
and
the
zest
of
life
soon
came back.
The
world
looked
bright
again,
and
existence
was
as
dear
to
us
as
ever. Presently
an
uneasiness came
over
me—grew
upon
me—assailed
me
without
ceasing. Alas, my
regeneration
was
not
complete—I wanted
to
smoke! I
resisted
with
all
my strength,
but
the
flesh
was
weak. I
wandered
away
alone
and
wrestled
with
myself
an
hour. I recalled my
promises
of
reform
and
preached
to
myself
persuasively, upbraidingly, exhaustively.
But
it
was
all
vain, I
shortly
found
myself
sneaking
among
the
snow-drifts
hunting
for
my pipe. I
discovered
it
after
a
considerable
search,
and
crept
away
to
hide
myself
and
enjoy
it. I
remained
behind
the
barn
a
good
while,
asking
myself
how
I
would
feel
if
my braver, stronger, truer
comrades
should
catch
me
in
my degradation.
At
last
I
lit
the
pipe,
and
no
human
being
can
feel
meaner
and
baser
than
I
did
then. I
was
ashamed
of
being
in
my
own
pitiful company.
Still
dreading
discovery, I felt
that
perhaps
the
further
side
of
the
barn
would
be
somewhat
safer,
and
so
I
turned
the
corner.
As
I
turned
the
one
corner, smoking, Ollendorff
turned
the
other
with
his
bottle
to
his
lips,
and
between
us
sat
unconscious
Ballou
deep
in
a
game
of
"solitaire"
with
the
old
greasy cards!
Absurdity
could
go
no
farther.
We
shook
hands
and
agreed
to
say
no
more
about
"reform"
and
"examples
to
the
rising generation."
The
station
we
were
at
was
at
the
verge
of
the
Twenty-six-Mile Desert.
If
we
had approached
it
half
an
hour
earlier
the
night
before,
we
must
have
heard
men shouting
there
and
firing pistols;
for
they
were
expecting
some
sheep
drovers
and
their
flocks
and
knew
that
they
would
infallibly
get
lost
and
wander
out
of
reach
of
help
unless
guided
by
sounds.
While
we
remained
at
the
station,
three
of
the
drovers arrived, nearly exhausted
with
their
wanderings,
but
two
others
of
their
party
were
never
heard
of
afterward.
We
reached Carson
in
due
time,
and
took
a rest.
This
rest,
together
with
preparations
for
the
journey
to
Esmeralda, kept
us
there
a week,
and
the
delay
gave
us
the
opportunity
to
be
present
at
the
trial
of
the
great
land-slide
case
of
Hyde vs. Morgan—an
episode
which
is
famous
in
Nevada
to
this
day.
After
a
word
or
two
of
necessary
explanation, I
will
set
down
the
history
of
this
singular
affair
just
as
it
transpired.