Fire on the Mountain by Edward Abbey Read Free Book Online Page B

dart through the air and land on a dead and lightning-blasted jackpine. Some of the juniper trees stood decked out in showers of tiny berries the color of turquoise; I plucked a berry and bit into it—hard, bitter, the flavor of turpentine—or gin. I spat it out. My shirt was beginning to stick to my back; I pulled the tail out and let it hang free.
    We rode on, climbing higher. Sweat dripped through my eyebrows and burned in my eyes. My rump ached as the heavy pounding climb of the horse jarred my bones and tender seat. I was getting hungry and wonderedthough did not dare ask when we would eat lunch—what lunch? Worse than that, I was already thirsty again. I should have drunk a lot more water when I had the chance, I thought, visions of the green pool below the windmill passing through my mind. I should have drunk it all, tadpoles, crawdads, algae and all, when I had the chance.
    Lee and the old man rode a pace ahead of me on the narrow trail, giving me all the benefit of the dust. I screwed up my courage: “Did anybody bring any water?”
    “A bellyfull,” said Grandfather.
    “I mean, a canteen.”
    Grandfather and Lee looked at each other in mock astonishment. “Did you hear that?”
    “I heard it but I don’t believe it.”
    “I can’t believe I heard it even.”
    “Listen,” I said, “I’m thirsty.”
    “Maybe he’s right,” Lee said to Grandfather. “After all, the Campfire Girls always carry canteens. The Boy Scouts always carry canteens. Maybe he’s right.”
    “I’m serious,” I said.
    “I thought you said you were thirsty.”
    “I’m serious and thirsty. I’m seriously thirsty. Besides, the United States Cavalry always carried canteens.”
    “That’s because they were always lost,” Lee explained. “If you don’t know where you are or where you’re going it might help a little bit to carry a canteen. If you don’t have to depend on it. If you are lucky enough to find water even though you are lost. Why if it hadn’t been for the the movies the United States Cavalry would
still
be lost. They’d have lost the war.”
    “What war?” Grandfather said.
    “Why—the war they won.”
    “What war was that?”
    “Let’s forget it,” I said. “Let’s forget the whole thing.”
    We arrived now at a place high on the hillside wherea dim little trail forked off to the left. The wagon road we were following continued on up the hill in the general direction of Thieves’ Mountain. Grandfather halted his horse and looked around. He looked back at the sun. He looked at me and Lee. “I’ll take the ridge trail,” he said. “You boys keep to the road. I’ll meet you at the cabin this evening.”
    “What do we do if we find the horse?” I asked.
    Grandfather studied my new straw hat. “How does the hat feel, Billy?”
    I touched the brim. “Pretty good, Grandfather.”
    “Does it keep your head cool?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Not too cool?”
    “No sir.” I loosened the hat a bit.
    “Not numb?”
    “No sir.”
    “Good.” He touched his spurs to the big sorrel and started up the side trail. He stopped between a pair of tall jackpines. “Come here for a minute, will you, Billy?” He looked at Lee. Lee nodded and moved on up the wagon road. When I reached my grandfather Lee was hidden from us by the trees. “Come close, Billy,” the old man said. He looked again to make sure that Lee could not see us, then opened one saddlebag and pulled out a war surplus canteen, U.S. Army model. “I was only kidding you about the water, Billy.” He unscrewed the cap and handed the canteen to me. “Take a good swig of that.” He smiled as he watched me drink. “Pretty good, huh?”
    I drank a little more and gave the canteen back to him. “Yes sir,” I said. It was good hot well water, the best I believe I had ever tasted.
    “Why a man’s a fool to run around out here without any water a-tall,” Grandfather said. He took a short drink and put the canteen back in the saddlebag.