No shape (bags, not widow)
but help keep flies and mosquitoes from chewing on us all day and
all night. Training for hades. I can stand the heat as well as
the old boy with the pitch-fork. Ain't got used to brimstone yet,
but I'd trade mosquitoes for sulphur smoke and give some boot.
Worried about Cash. He took a bath today again, using water I had
packed for mine. Heat must be getting him.
June 26.
Cash opened up thumb again, trying to brain Pete with rock.
Pete got halfway into kitchen and eat biggest part of a pie I
made. Cash threw jagged rock, hit Pete in side of jaw. Cut big
gash. Swelled now like a punkin. Cash and I tangled over same.
I'm going to quit. I have had enough of this darn country.
Creek's drying up, and mosquitoes have found way to crawl under
bags. Cash wants me to stay till we find good claim, but Cash can
go to thunder.
Then Cash's record goes on:
June 27.
Bud very sick & out of head. Think it is heat, which is
terrible. Talked all night about burros, gasoline, & camphor
balls which he seemed wanting to buy in gunny sack. No sleep for
either. Burros came in for water about daylight. Picketed Monte &
Pete as may need doctor if Bud grows worse. Thumb nearly well.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100