OCR Text |
Show 6 THE ACORN. What matter though the weather, Heaves the freezing- breath of ice? It but makes us huddle closer, As the lever to the vice. May the fireside of friendship Always hold its warning- glare, And may joy and merry Christmas Ever come a welcome pair. Walter Emmett. A CHRISTMAS REVERIE. At the head of the Blacksmith Fork river, in a little hollow up among the cedars and the pines of the Wasatch Mountains, stands a little old log cabin with just one room. "Bob," the cowboy, lived there. Nearby are the corrall, the sheds and the stamping grounds. Besides these, Bob owned all the pasture land as far as you can see on the west side of the mountain. It was Christmas morning on this cattle ranch, and the cowboy and his dog "Jeff" were alone in the cabin. "Ah, Jeff," said he, "we're all alone today. We've got nobody to give Christmas presents to, like we had years ago, down in the valley, before my hair turned white and before Mary died. It seems that all the dear friends I've had left for the last twenty years, are you and Prince. Don't you remember, how ten years ago, I locked you in the cabin, and lucky for you, old boy, that I did; and Prince and I went away over the old sheep ground and down in the valley to rake up those fellahs fer heddin' my cattle their way, and to see if I couldn't find some trace of 'em? When I was a comin' back over that blamed old sheep ground, a whole pack of wolves, hungry as they could be, spied us a travelin' along. I tried to make 'em believe that shot was as good a meal as they could find, but the shot gave out and them blessed creatures came after us with their old mouths wide open and their white teeth a showin' to make us believe they were made fer somethun' else besides ornaments. "It was piercin' cold, the wind and snow was a blowin' in our faces. On, on, came the wolves, gaining a foot or so each THE ACORN 7 moment. Prince ran faster and faster and his breath grew louder and louder. One more minute and the wolves were upon us. Prince stumbled and fell and the wolves in their maddened frenzy, swept by. Another minute, Prince was on his feet again. I wheeled him to the right and found we'd been on the wrong road. In our wild ride for life, with the snow and sleet in our faces, both Prince and I had got off the road. If we'd gone just one rod further, we would have made our graves with the wolves among the rocks and ice of the river. "Often I've wondered why Prince saved my life then and let me live to see him not only risk it but give it up for me, his master. People may say that horses are'nt faithful, but you'll never hear it from these old wrinkled lips of mine. No, never, not as long as my heart shall beat. "Jeff, Jeff, brighten up a little, and let me tell you how Prince died to save my life on Christmas Day. It was only three years ago, when Sheriff B came up here and wanted to know if I'd seen any body traveling this road lately. 'No,' I told him, I hadn't seen any body, but one morning when I went down to the river to get some water, I saw some horse shoe tracks in the snow along there. I knew my Prince hadn't made 'em." "Well," says the sheriff, "Charles Dowy, that great des perado has just passed up through here. You know this country better than I do. Come along with me and see if we can't catch him before he goes over tne Star Valley road to Jackson Hole. Some one is going to head him off from the other way, if possible." So I went along, We traveled all the rest of that day, nearly all the next night and just as it was getting light in the morning, we heard the sound of horses' hoofs higher up on the mountain side. We knew we must conceal ourselves before it got light. A rock near us projected out just far enough to hide us and one horse. Which horse should be hid? What should we do with the other? My Prince was old, he couldn't travel very fast. If I took him and started for home, we would just get into a good open space by daylight, where the robber could take good aim at me. I must leave Prince exposed to |