Excerpt from Maruja, the Story of a Mine: And Other Tales
The trail he took led to one of the scant watercourses that issued, half spent, from the cafiada, to fade out utterly on the hot June plain. It was thickly bordered with wil lows and alders, that made an arbored and feasible path through the dense woods and undergrowth. He continued along it as if aimlessly; stopping from time to time to look at different objects in a dull mechanical fashion, as if rather to prolong his useless hours, than from any curious instinct, and to occasionally dip in the unfrequent pools of water the few crusts of bread he had taken from his pocket. Even this appeared to be suggested more by coincidence of material in the bread and water, than from the promptings of hunger. At last he reached a cuplike hollow in the hills lined with wild clover and thick with resinous odors. Here he crept under a manzanita bush and disposed himself to sleep. The act showed he was already familiar with the local habits of his class, who used the unfailing dry starlit nights for their wanderings, and spent the hours of glaring sunshine asleep or resting in some wayside shadow.
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