Except for their sad errand, both Felipe and Aunt Ri would have
experienced a keen delight in this ascent. With each fresh lift on
the precipitous terraces, the view off to the south and west
broadened, until the whole San Jacinto Valley lay unrolled at their
feet. The pines were grand; standing, they seemed shapely
columns; fallen, the upper curve of their huge yellow disks came
above a man's head, so massive was their size. On many of them
the bark had been riddled from root to top, as by myriads of
bullet-holes. In each hole had been cunningly stored away an
acorn,-- the woodpeckers' granaries.
"Look at thet, naow!" exclaimed the observant Aunt Ri; "an' thar's
folk's thet sez dumb critters ain't got brains. They ain't noways
dumb to each other, I notice; an' we air dumb aourselves when we
air ketched with furriners. I allow I'm next door to dumb myself
with this hyar Mexican I'm er travellin' with."
"That's so!" replied Sam Merrill. "When we fust got here, I thought
I'd ha' gone clean out o' my head tryin' to make these Mexicans
sense my meanin'; my tongue was plaguy little use to me.
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