After rather carelessly inspecting the ruin I
resumed my sport, and having fairly good success
prolonged it until near sunset, when it occurred to
me that I was a long way from any human habita-
tion--too far to reach one by nightfall. But in my
game bag was food, and the old house would afford
shelter, if shelter were needed on a warm and dew-
less night in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada,
where one may sleep in comfort on the pine needles,
without covering. I am fond of solitude and love the
night, so my resolution to 'camp out' was soon
taken, and by the time that it was dark I had made
my bed of boughs and grasses in a corner of the
room and was roasting a quail at a fire that I had
kindled on the hearth. The smoke escaped out of
the ruined chimney, the light illuminated the room
with a kindly glow, and as I ate my simple meal of
plain bird and drank the remains of a bottle of red
wine which had served me all the afternoon in place
of the water, which the region did not supply, I ex-
perienced a sense of comfort which better fare and
accommodations do not always give.
Nevertheless, there was something lacking. I had
a sense of comfort, but not of security. I detected
myself staring more frequently at the open doorway
and blank window than I could find warrant for
doing. Outside these apertures all was black, and I
was unable to repress a certain feeling of apprehen-
sion as my fancy pictured the outer world and filled
it with unfriendly entities, natural and supernatural
--chief among which, in their respective classes
were the grizzly bear, which I knew was occasionally
still seen in that region, and the ghost, which I had
reason to think was not.
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