kind of monotony, bore it cheerfully. He was out of doors, and he
was hedged about by no rules or petty restrictions. He liked Cash
Markham and he liked Pete, his saddle horse, and he was fond of
Daddy who was still paying the penalty of seeking too carelessly
for shade and, according to Cash's record, "getting it in his
mouth, tongue, feet & all over body." Bud liked it--all except
the blistering heat and the "side-winders" and other rattlers. He
did not bother with trying to formulate any explanation of why he
liked it. It may have been picturesque, though picturesqueness
of that sort is better appreciated when it is seen through the
dim radiance of memory that blurs sordid details. Certainly it
was not adventurous, as men have come to judge adventure.

Life droned along very dully. Day after day was filled with
petty details. A hill looks like a mountain if it rises abruptly
out of a level plain, with no real mountains in sight to measure
it by. Here's the diary to prove how little things came to look
important because the days held no contrasts. If it bores you to
read it, think what it must have been to live it.

June 10.

Up at 6:30 Baked till 11. Then unrigged well and rigged up an
incline for the stock to water. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Stock
did not come in all morning, but Monte & Pete came in before
supper. Incline water shaft does not work. Prospected & found 8
ledges. Bud found none.

June 11.