A PLEASANT SPRING RIDE
When Jack arose the next morning and looked out of the window on the
little valley below the house, and upon the side of the mountain, he
saw the ground covered with snow, which glistened in the brilliant
sunshine. It did not take him long to get into his clothes, and he
rushed through the house and out the kitchen door and down toward
the corral. Over the hills beyond the barn a number of horses were
galloping, with streaming manes and tails, and behind them was Joe,
zig-zagging back and forth, occasionally snapping forward the end of
his trailing rope to hurry up the laggards. It was a good sight--one
that Jack had not seen for a couple of years--and he ran on down toward
the corral, but suddenly a thought struck him, and he stopped, turned,
and started back to the house.
When he burst into the kitchen again, he said, "Oh, Mrs. Carter, please
give me a couple of lumps of sugar for Pawnee; I want to see if the old
horse will know me, and whether he does or not, I want to be friends
with him." He ran back into the sitting room and got the old whistle
which he had taught his horse to obey, and put it in his pocket.
Seizing the sugar which Mrs. Carter had put on the table, he hurried
down to the corral. When he got there, the horses for the day's riding
were being caught up, and he entered. He had long ago lost the old fear
that he had had as a little fellow, that the frightened horses would
run over and trample him. Stepping out into the middle of the corral,
he looked at the bunch of twenty or thirty horses which stood there
sleepily, as long as they were undisturbed, but were quick enough to
move about and try to dodge the rope when it was thrown at them. By
this time the men had caught all their horses, and Joe walked over to
the gate, ready to open it as soon as Jack had caught his. Jack called
to him, "Say! wait a minute, Joe; I want to try an experiment;" and
he put the whistle to his lips and blew the old call that he had been
accustomed to use for Pawnee. The horse was standing partly hidden by
two or three others, but the moment the whistle blew he raised his
head, and turned and looked at Jack. Jack stood perfectly still for
a moment or two, and then blew the whistle once more, and the horse
stepped forward over toward Jack, with his head up, his ears thrust
forward, and an expression of great interest on his countenance. Again
Jack blew the whistle, and this time he reached out his hand toward the
horse, which again took three or four steps and stopped only a few feet
from Jack, reaching out his nose to Jack's hand, as if trying to smell
it. Jack put his hand into his pocket and laid a lump of sugar in his
palm, and whistled once more, and the horse stepped forward and took
the sugar, and as he crunched it in his teeth, stepped forward again,
so that his head was close to Jack's shoulder.
Jack patted him very gently, and then slipped the rope over his
neck and knotted it and began to rub the horse's head and ears.
Gradually--as it seemed to Jack--the horse's memory awakened, and after
a few moments Jack felt quite confident that Pawnee recognized him
and was glad to see him. The horse rubbed his head vigorously against
Jack's shoulder, and seemed to enjoy being petted.
As their old friendship seemed to be resumed, Jack called to Joe to
open the gate, and after he had done so the horses walked out. Some of
them had already shed their winter coats, but on others the long hair
hung down three or four inches below their necks and bellies. The dust
and dirt of the corral was full of shed hair, and great wads of it were
lying about everywhere.
Just as Jack started out with Pawnee, to take him to the barn, Hugh
passed by and said, "Does he know you, son?"
"I really think he does, Hugh," said Jack. "At first he didn't, though
he remembered the whistle, and recognized the sugar when I held it out
to him, but now I believe he knows who I am. It's pretty hard on him
to have to remember me, for I expect I have changed more or less in
appearance every year, and you know it's two years now since I have
seen the old horse."
"Yes," said Hugh; "I don't wonder that he was a little slow to
know you, but after all, a horse has a long memory, and inside of
twenty-four hours it will all come back to him. I reckon that to-morrow
he will likely come right up to you in the corral or on the prairie."
"He's fat and in fine condition, isn't he, Hugh? He looks to me to be
in the bulliest kind of order for a trip."
"Lord, yes," said Hugh, "he's fat enough, for I don't think he has
done anything for two years. Your uncle would not let him be ridden
last year, he was so much afraid that something might happen to him. I
shouldn't be a little bit surprised if he would kick and crowhop quite
a little when you first get on him. I don't believe he would really
pitch, but he's likely to pretend to. He looks fatter than he really
is, though of course he's fat enough," the old man went on, "but that
long winter coat of his makes him look as round as a ball."
"Yes," assented Jack, "it does, of course; and what tremendous coats
these horses get in this country, don't they?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "they have to; for, as you know, it is fearful cold
here in winter, and, of course, the horses are out on the range all the
time and they've got to do something to keep themselves warm, so they
grow these long coats. Look at this now!" and walking up to Pawnee he
put his hand under his brisket, and pulling a little from side to side
took off a great patch of hair and held it out to Jack so that he could
look at it. There were seen the roots of the long hairs sticking up
through a sort of fur or down, such as may be seen next to the skin of
an elk or a deer when it is shedding its winter coat.
"There," said Hugh, "do you see that fur that grows next to the skin?
Most animals in this cold climate develop that during the winter, and
you can see that it's almost like the fur on the otter, the beaver, or
the muskrat. It must keep out the cold in great shape."
"I declare," said Jack, "I never saw that on a horse before. I did see
it once on an elk that we killed in the spring; I think it was the
first year I came out here, when I hunted with John Munroe. I have
seen this same kind of fur on a St. Bernard dog, too; the animals
that the monks keep up on the tops of the mountains in Switzerland,
away up above timber line, and that they use in winter to look for
people who get lost in the snow in the mountains. They have just that
kind of double coat, with long hair on the outside and a sort of fur
underneath, next to the skin."
"Yes," said Hugh, "I guess all animals that live in cold climates get
that same kind of coat."
While he was speaking, the horn blew, and Jack took Pawnee to the barn
and tied him up, and then he and Hugh went in to breakfast.
"Well, Jack," said Mr. Sturgis, as they sat at the table, "have you and
Hugh had a consultation yet over what you are going to do?"
"Not yet, Uncle George," said Jack; "but I guess we will during the
day, and we will be able to tell you to-night what our decision is."
"This snow will melt right away, and the grass has started enough for
you to go off on your trip any time now," said Mr. Sturgis.
"And I suppose," said Jack, "if we are going off, the sooner we get
started the better. Isn't that so, Hugh?"
"I reckon it is, son; and if we're going to try to get any fur of any
kind, the sooner we start the better the fur will be. It won't be long
now before the animals begin to shed. Of course, a bear hide is good
till well into June, and the higher up the animal lives, the longer the
coat stays good. Why, in old times, we used to trap all through the
summer, but, of course, if we caught fur low down on the prairie it did
not bring us the price that prime pelts brought."
"Well," said Mr. Sturgis, "make up your minds what you want to do, and
report to me to-night."
"All right, sir," said Hugh, and he and Jack went down toward the barn.
"What are you going to do to-day, Hugh?" said Jack.
"Why," said Hugh, "Mrs. Carter said that they were all out of fresh
meat, and I thought I'd go off and see if I could kill a buck antelope.
That's about all that's fit to kill now. Of course, we might go up on
the mountain and hunt around, and perhaps find a mountain sheep, but I
don't go much on sheep meat at this time of the year."
"Why, how's that, Hugh? I thought sheep meat was the best meat there
was, except, perhaps, buffalo meat."
"Ever eat any in spring time?" said Hugh.
"No, of course I never did. I guess you've always been with me when
I've eaten sheep meat, and you and I have never killed a sheep in the
spring."
"Well," said Hugh, "if you kill a sheep now you'll find its meat tastes
and smells so strong of garlic that perhaps you'd not care to eat it.
I've eaten a good many queer things, but I'd never eat sheep meat in
the spring; that is, for choice."
"Why is that, Hugh?" said Jack.
"I'll tell you," replied Hugh. "About the first green thing that
springs up in these mountains is the wild leek, and the sheep,
hungering for something green, hunt this up and eat it whenever they
find it. The result is, that they taste of it, strong. Didn't you ever
hear of that before?"
"No, indeed," replied Jack; "that's news to me. I do believe, though,
that once in a while when I have been in the country in the spring the
milk of the cows has tasted of garlic or onions, and they told me it
was because they had been eating the wild leek."
"That's straight enough," replied Hugh. "I have drunk cow's milk in
spring, out in this country, that tasted strong of sage. Now, you know
well enough, without my telling you, that the meat of the sage hen
tastes strong of sage, because they feed on it all the time, and didn't
Mr. Fannin tell us last year that the hogs and chickens that fed on the
dead salmon could not be eaten because they were so fishy? It seems to
me he did."
"It seems to me he did, too, Hugh. I believe you're right about that."
"Well," said Hugh, "I guess that's common enough. I've tasted beef and
buffalo both that tasted mighty strong of garlic."
"Why, yes, Hugh, I remember now, you told me all about this last year.
You told me about it at the same time that Mr. Fannin told us about
the hogs and chickens which could not be eaten on account of having fed
on the dead salmon. I had forgotten all about it."
"Yes, son, I thought we had talked it over before."
"Well, Hugh, you explain a good many things to me, and I am afraid I
forget some of them."
"Well, son, you can't remember everything. Let's go down and saddle our
horses now."
They went down to the barn and saddled up. Hugh's was a handsome young
black horse, nervous and full of spirit, but with a good disposition,
and Jack could not help admiring the quiet way in which Hugh walked up
to and soothed the horse, talking to him and patting him in a friendly
way that seemed to overcome the animal's fears.
Pawnee flinched when the saddle blanket was put on, and again when the
saddle struck his back, but Jack talked to him and petted him and he
stood quietly while the saddle was being cinched.
"It will be a good idea for you not to draw that cinch too tight at
first, son," said Hugh, "and then to lead him around a little; if he
wants to buck, let him buck with the saddle."
This seemed good advice to Jack, and he led the horse out of the barn.
Pawnee acted a little wild, and kept jumping when a stirrup knocked
against his side, but he made no attempt to get rid of the saddle,
though nervous about the noise that it made.
"He's all right, Hugh," said Jack, "I'll leave him standing here while
I run up and get my rifle and cartridge belt."
He threw down the reins and the rope, and the horse stood quietly
enough by Hugh until Jack returned. Then taking the rope off his neck,
he tied it to the saddle, thrust his gun in the scabbard, and throwing
the reins back over the horse's head, slowly and carefully mounted.
Pawnee stood very quietly, but turned his head around as if curious
to see what this weight was that he now felt on his back, and then at
a touch of the spur moved off, and Hugh and Jack soon passed over the
hill and out of sight of the ranch.
As the day advanced the sun grew warmer and the field of snow was
dazzling.
"We ought to have blackened our faces before we started out," said
Hugh. "This is just the kind of day to get a bad attack of snow
blindness."
"Yes," said Jack, "I can see that's so, but this snow isn't going to
last the day out. See how many patches of bare ground are beginning to
show, and how the water is running off into the ravines."
"That's so," said Hugh. "If it were not for the way it's going it
would be a good idea for us to tie our handkerchiefs across our noses.
Anyhow, I don't want to get an attack of snow blindness; it's mighty
painful, I can tell you, and every time you get it it makes your eyes
weaker and more liable to another attack if you are out in the bright
sunshine when the ground is covered with snow."
"Were you ever snow blind?" asked Jack.
"Yes," replied Hugh, "I've been snow blind, but I never had a real bad
attack. I've been so that I couldn't see, and the way my eyes hurt was
something awful, but it always passed off in a few days. I never had
an attack like I've seen some men have, where they would be blind and
suffering for weeks at a time."
"Where are you going to look for that antelope, Hugh?" said Jack.
"Why, I think we might go up toward the head of the Basin and then
swing over onto the east side. It's warm over there, and a good many
antelope coming back in spring get over there and stop for a while
before they scatter out through the Basin. We're likely to see plenty
of them this morning, and if we do, it does seem to me that we might
as well kill a couple. If you and me are going on a trip pretty soon
there won't be anybody here to kill meat for the ranch."
"All right," said Jack, "I'd like first rate to kill an antelope again.
It seems to me a long time since I've shot at one, and I'd like to find
out whether I've forgotten how to shoot."
"Well," said Hugh, "you're not likely to have forgotten how to shoot,
but your gun may be a little strange to you after such a long rest."
The two rode quietly along for some miles without seeing anything more
than a few birds that rose from the brushy ravines which they passed,
or an occasional coyote trotting over the whitened prairie on his way
to some place to take his nap for the day. Down on the lake below could
be seen many water fowl, and over it a great flock of these would rise
and fly about in the air for a long time, and then alight again on the
water. Sometimes the groups of birds formed a black spot in the sky,
and then swinging out into long lines looked almost like the smoke of a
locomotive carried off over the prairie. It was pleasant riding. Every
moment it seemed to grow warmer and warmer, and the snow disappeared
from the hills with startling rapidity.