It was only towards the end of our stay, that a man
down at Calistoga, who was expatiating on the terrifying nature of
the sound, gave me at last a very good imitation; and it burst on
me at once that we dwelt in the very metropolis of deadly snakes,
and that the rattle was simply the commonest noise in Silverado.
Immediately on our return, we attacked the Hansons on the subject.
They had formerly assured us that our canyon was favoured, like
Ireland, with an entire immunity from poisonous reptiles; but, with
the perfect inconsequence of the natural man, they were no sooner
found out than they went off at score in the contrary direction,
and we were told that in no part of the world did rattlesnakes
attain to such a monstrous bigness as among the warm, flower-dotted
rocks of Silverado. This is a contribution rather to the natural
history of the Hansons, than to that of snakes.
One person, however, better served by his instinct, had known the
rattle from the first; and that was Chuchu, the dog. No rational
creature has ever led an existence more poisoned by terror than
that dog's at Silverado. Every whiz of the rattle made him bound.
His eyes rolled; he trembled; he would be often wet with sweat.
One of our great mysteries was his terror of the mountain. A
little away above our nook, the azaleas and almost all the
vegetation ceased.
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