In the halt the guide got
by and resumed his place in front. Mark threw the flower away,
saying, "I didn't want that. I only wanted to give the old man a
chance to go on without seeming to pass us." Mark is splendid to
walk with amid such grand scenery, for he talks so well about it,
has such a power of strong, picturesque expression. I wish you
might have heard him to-day. His vigorous speech nearly did justice
to the things we saw.
In an address which Twichell gave many years later he recalls another
pretty incident of their travels. They had been toiling up the Gorner
Grat.
As we paused for a rest, a lamb from a flock of sheep near by ventured
inquisitively toward us, whereupon Mark seated himself on a rock, and
with beckoning hand and soft words tried to get it to come to him.
On the lamb's part it was a struggle between curiosity and timidity, but
in a succession of advances and retreats it gained confidence, though at
a very gradual rate. It was a scene for a painter: the great American
humorist on one side of the game and that silly little creature on the
other, with the Matterhorn for a background. Mark was reminded that the
time he was consuming was valuable--but to no purpose. The Gorner Grat
could wait. He held on with undiscouraged perseverance till he carried
his point: the lamb finally put its nose in his hand, and he was happy
over it all the rest of the day.
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