When Buchan arose in the cabin and said "I thought I heard a voice,
her voice," I was amazed. It did not occur to me that anyone would
attempt our rescue, else why had they not done it long ere this?
He opened the door and shouted, then turning to me, exclaimed: "They
are digging us out."
Our hearts leaped for joy. We shook hands in expression of delight and
Buchan danced a highland fling around the room. Two men, snow-covered,
entered and hailed us joyously. Then came a woman, followed by Carson.
She ran to Buchan and he caught her in his arms. I was deaf and could
not hear what they said or I would write it word for word, but he
kissed her and she cried, and he wiped away some tears, and I turned
my back and pretended to be talking to Carson.
The men gathered up our few belongings and we hurriedly left the
cabin. Sleds were waiting at the foot of the mountain, and we were
soon speeding toward Saguache. The air was crisp and the stars shone
like eyes of tender sympathy over the white plain. We were brought to
a stop at the hotel. Men and women whom we had never seen came and
joyfully shook us by the hands, and had much to say in congratulation.
The news of Hattie's arrival and her interest in Buchan had spread
over the camp, and many were the motherly old women who came to say
sympathetic things and invite her to their homes, so great was their
admiration for her loyalty and sacrifice for the man she loved.
The next day a mass meeting was called by the citizens. The Lone Tree
saloon and dance hall had to go. A railroad survey had been completed
through the town, and public works had been projected by the
newly-elected city council. A new era was dawning for Saguache. The
hall was crowded, as one citizen after another spoke of the future
possibilities of the town, and a good government that would no longer
tolerate a lawless element. When resolutions were passed and the
assembly was ready to adjourn, one speaker arose and said he heartily
endorsed everything that was said and done there that evening, but
there was another matter which should have attention: One of the men
rescued from under the snow-drift had just married the girl who had
arrived a few days before from California, and his partner who led the
rescue party had married an estimable young woman of the town. The
double wedding had occurred at the hotel an hour before, and he
thought it would be fitting to celebrate the event and the new era of
Saguache with a dance that night, in which everybody should be asked
to participate. A roar of approval greeted the speaker. There was no
resolution or motion. None was needed. Men instantly set to work
clearing the hall of chairs, while a committee was sent to the hotel
to announce to Buchan and Carson that a dance had been arranged that
night in their honor.
Men came with their wives and their sweethearts, dressed just as they
were from their work, and the women as they were in their homes.
Evening clothes would have been as much out of place in that ballroom,
as the garb of a workman would be out of place in the ballroom of the
Waldorf-Astoria. The orchestra struck up, and Buchan and Hattie were
given the place of honor in the dance. Carson and Annie, being better
known, felt that they should largely play the part of host and yielded
every honor to Buchan and Hattie. The music was good. Everybody joined
in the spirit of goodfellowship, and the dance continued until the
small hours of the morning.
It was toward the close that Rayder came upon the floor with a fat
widow milliner. He had taken a few drinks of gin and was trying to act
kittenish when, in the midst of a cotillion, the widow fell to the
floor in an epileptic fit. They bore the woman to an adjoining room,
where she soon recovered, but it was such a shock to Rayder's nerves
that he went out and braced up on a little more gin.
* * * * *
I was at the governor's reception in the state capitol of Colorado.
The rooms and corridors were brilliantly lighted. Men and women in
rich attire were there to do honor to the occasion. I was seated
behind a decoration of palms, when a prominent attorney and a
companion took seats near me.
A heavy set man with a woman leaning on his arm entered the corridor.
They were well, but modestly dressed. There were grey streaks in their
hair, but their steps were firm and, both were the picture of good
health, evidence of good and wholesome lives.
"Here comes Senator Buchan and lady," said the attorney to his
companion. "I knew those people twenty-five years ago. I was one of a
party to rescue Buchan and a companion from under a snow slide in the
Sangre de Christo mountains. The girl had come all the way from
California to help in the rescue. I don't believe she would have lived
two days longer if we had not got him out. Shows what the right sort
of love will do. It stands the test of time. There is no divorce
business in that. Buchan had an iron will, too. Somehow he and his
partners had discovered a lost Spanish mine and did not know its value
on account of some trickery of an assayer. But Silas Rayder did, so
Rayder hounded the boys to sell and finally when he offered a hundred
and fifty thousand dollars, they closed the deal. Carson had just
married, too. He took his money and invested it in a flouring mill. I
do not know what became of the other fellow, but Buchan put his money
in a bank and it failed in less than three months and he went to
running an engine on the Rocky Mountain railroads. It was a pretty
hard knock, but right there is where that girl came to the front like
a guardian angel. She told him that perhaps it was all for the best.
Riches do not always bring happiness. It is adversity that brings to
the surface our better natures and fires our ambitions to the nobler
and grander things of life.
"Buchan must have had this in mind, for while he was running his
engine he was always trying to help some poor fellow. He accepted his
lot in life and worked for years content with the love of that woman
and when people saw he was made of the right sort of stuff they
elected him to the legislature and his very first act was to put
through a bill making eight hours a legal day's work. That very act
took the yoke of bondage off more than half a million workers.
"It turned out just as the girl said. He has served the people three
terms and if he had not worked for their interests they would never
have sent him back the third time.
"Adversity, sir, is oftimes the making of us. I never thought so when
Bob Lee surrendered and our dreams of imperialism vanished and left
most of us without a dollar. But I can see now it is all for the
best. As a nation united we welcome all men regardless of their
nationality, and, in return, they give us the best thoughts the world
can produce."
"Rayder, what became of him?" asked his companion.
"When Rayder bought the mine he thought he had millions but he only
took out of it about enough to get even when the vein gave out between
two big slabs of granite that came together like the thin end of a
wedge. A widow who had fits sued him about this time for a breach of
promise, and either to get out of that or get square with some old
enemy, he married the widow Amos."
I arose and stood before the attorney and his companion. "I want to
shake hands with you, sir," I said. He arose, and in extending his
hand, said: "Your name, please?"
"I am the other fellow you rescued from the cabin," I replied.