The equipage moved slowly on, at that decorous pace
which was habitual with Jenny even under less solemn circumstances. The
men - half curiously, have jestingly, but all good-humoredly - strolled
along beside the cart; some in advance, some a little in the rear, of
the homely catafalque. But, whether from the narrowing of the road or
some present sense of decorum, as the cart passed on, the company fell
to the rear in couples, keeping step, and otherwise assuming the
external show of a formal procession. Jack Folinsbee, who had at the
outset played a funeral march in dumb show upon an imaginary trombone,
desisted, from a lack of sympathy and appreciation, - not having,
perhaps, your true humorist's capacity to be content with the enjoyment
of his own fun.
The way led through Grizzly Ca?on, by this time clothed in funereal
drapery and shadows. The redwoods, burying their moccasined feet in the
red soil, stood in Indian-file along the track, trailing an uncouth
benediction from their bending boughs upon the passing bier. A hare,
surprised into helpless inactivity, sat upright and pulsating in the
ferns by the roadside, as the cort?ge went by.
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