Looking out during the night, I saw a misshapen gibbous moon, of a
strange green-cheese color, setting between the four legs of a mule,
whose body made an arched frame for it. The effect was most grotesque.
A ride on horseback next morning over the fresh breezy divide was a
charming change from the monotonous 'bus. How the larks sang for us on
that bright morning! and coyotes and blackbirds with white wings fled
away before us. A little after noon we struck the sources of the White
River, pleasant springs on a hillside, bubbling forth among the first
trees we had seen since we left the Laramie. Then we descended into a
fine shady valley: all our old friends were there in thickets--the
box-elder, willow, birch and cottonwood, the alder, osier and wild
cherry, currant, gooseberry, buffalo-berry and clematis. As we went
on, brushing through the thick foliage, the hills on either side
became higher, and grew into bastions, castles, donjon-keeps and
fantastic clustered chimneys, like Scott's description of the valley
of St. John. The river went circling about through the intervale, so
that we had to cross it constantly upon the little bridges made
during the White River expedition in the February before.
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