“Why don’t you climb down out of that wagon and kick him in the stomach?”
“Naw, I reckin not. You see, I’m savin’ that up fur the hill yonder.”
§ 333 Dust to Dust
In the Pinenut mining region of Nevada during the early nineties, rich gold-bearing veins were discovered in the foothills. Coincident with this discovery came the development of placer claims in the beds of the valley streams. There was a tremendous rush of prospectors from neighboring mining towns, and Pinenut became the center of much activity. Unfortunately, it proved to be a superficial bonanza and petered out in a short time. A few fanatics still lingered on, hoping that a sharp pick in hopeful hands would open a new Golconda at an unexpected moment.
As Robert H. Davis tells the story, one of the hangers-on had the bad taste to die. It was the custom in new mining camps for the District Recorder to perform the services of the church and to lay to rest those who expired with or without their boots on. The ceremony was the same for both. This particular funeral took place in the dry bed of the creek. A hole six by two by three had been scooped from the gravel. The deceased reposed in a rude coffin.
The Recorder, from the Book of Common Prayer, read the service in a solemn voice:
“Ye brought nothing into this world and ye shall take nothing out.”
The coffin was lowered by horny hands.
“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. Dust to dust!”
Reaching down he gathered a handful of dirt and gravel which sifted through his fingers and fell with a rattaplan upon the wooden box.