For two hours we looked for
houses; and for two hours they followed us, smelling trees, picking
flowers, foisting false botany on the unwary. Had we taken five,
with that vile lad to head them off on idle divagations, for five
they would have smiled and stumbled through the woods.
However, we came forth at length, and as by accident, upon a lawn,
sparse planted like an orchard, but with forest instead of fruit
trees. That was the site of Silverado mining town. A piece of
ground was levelled up, where Kelmar's store had been; and facing
that we saw Rufe Hanson's house, still bearing on its front the
legend Silverado Hotel. Not another sign of habitation. Silverado
town had all been carted from the scene; one of the houses was now
the school-house far down the road; one was gone here, one there,
but all were gone away.
It was now a sylvan solitude, and the silence was unbroken but by
the great, vague voice of the wind. Some days before our visit, a
grizzly bear had been sporting round the Hansons' chicken-house.
Mrs. Hanson was at home alone, we found. Rufe had been out after a
"bar," had risen late, and was now gone, it did not clearly appear
whither. Perhaps he had had wind of Kelmar's coming, and was now
ensconced among the underwood, or watching us from the shoulder of
the mountain. We, hearing there were no houses to be had, were for
immediately giving up all hopes of Silverado.
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