Chapter VII MOUNTAINEER MEMORIES

 IT was July twenty-fourth, the day on which, some forty years before, the Mormon Pioneers had entered the valley of the Great Salt Lake. A colony of these people, who had settled a few miles to the south of the Bar B ranch, had decided to celebrate the occasion. The program looked promising of a good time. It was to begin with a pageant depicting scenes of the early days and close with a banquet in the aspen grove, followed by a “grand ball.” Everybody in the valley, regardless of religious affiliations, was urged to participate in the celebration.   Cap Hanks, yielding to the solicitations of his men, therefore declared the day a holiday for all hands and the cook. Fred, however, made a plan of his own for the day. He awoke early that morning before the stars had faded, and while the rest were asleep he slipped out of bed, caught and saddled his mare and rode away toward the eastern hills.{76}   The air was delightfully crisp as the breezes began to pour out of the canyon down from the snowy peaks. It was a joy to be alive if only to drink deeply of the mountain ozone, sweet with the mingled fragrance of pines and flowers and grasses; the old stream seemed snappier and fresher than ever as Brownie splashed into its clear cold waters across the old ford. Nature was yet asleep. Only the whispering of the trees and the singing of the stream could be heard. But as they climbed the trail up the foothills, live things began to waken. First a sleepy “cheep-cheep” of some little songbird out of the streamside willows, then a far away yelping of the coyotes, and suddenly from under Brownie’s pattering feet an old sage hen sprang into the air with frightened clucking. A moment later the whole flock arose, shocking the stillness with their noises. By the time he had reached the hill crest before the old trapper’s home, the first streaks of day had appeared above the mountain, and the morning star, a spot of flaming silver against the sky, was melting in the reddening glow of the dawn.   Old Tobe gave a sharp, challenging bark as Brownie’s feet rattled the gravel down the trail.{77}   “Who’s there?” called Uncle Dave from within the cabin as the boy rode up.   “Fred Benton,” came the response; “I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”   “No, come in; I was just crawlin’ out.”   Fred tied his mare to a sapling and entered the cabin.   “What brings you here so airly, boy?” asked the old man.   “Oh, we have a day off to celebrate with the Mormons.”   “Mormons?” Uncle Dave’s tone was curious.   “Yes, it’s their Pioneer Day,—the day Brigham Young and his band entered Salt Lake Valley, and the colonists here are celebrating, so Cap Hanks gave us a day off to join in the fun.”   “But you’re not joinin’ ’em?”   “No, I don’t like some kinds of cowboy fun,” returned Fred frankly; “I thought I’d rather have another visit with you.”   “That’s good of you, boy, to remember an old man,” responded Uncle Dave with a touch of feeling. “I’ll get a bite of breakfast; your ride has whetted your appetite, I reckon.”   “This air would give anyone an appetite,” said Fred; “what can I do to help?”   “You might get the fire going.{78}”   Fred stepped outside for wood and brought back with his armful a sack he had untied from his saddle.   “Here’s something to help out,” he said, emptying half a dozen fine fish on to the table. “I had a good catch yesterday and thought you’d like some.”   “Much obliged, boy; trout tastes good once in a while, and I ain’t took time to get any lately.”   The breakfast preparations went on briskly. When all was ready, the old man said, “Now set up and be at home.” Then he offered his brief grace and they ate in silence for a few minutes.   “My mother learnt me to pray, boy,” said Uncle Dave quietly; “she allus said it was the right thing to do, and I’ve proved it. You know a man that lives in these wilds alone as I hev these forty-odd years has to get close to God fer comfort. It’s a good thing, boy, to keep the trail between you and Him clear. I once seen it proved, too, by them pioneers you was speaking of.”   Fred was interested.   “I met ’em in a peculiar way when they wuz comin’ here,” the old man went on; “they called me God’s good angel, and I guess they wus{79}n’t far from right; but I’d mighty nigh forgot the whole thing till you reminded me of it.”   “Tell me about it, Uncle Dave,”—the old man had paused.   “Well, it wuz this way, you see; I wuz huntin’ and trappin’ and tradin’ along Green River during the late forties, barterin’ my skins to old Jim Bridger. One day I left my camp and wuz startin’ up the hills to scare up some sage hens fer dinner, when somethin’ said to me, ‘Go up the river.’ That didn’t seem right; I begin to argue with myself that the chickens wouldn’t be up the river that time o’ day, but the notion came again, ‘Go up the river.’ I stopped kind o’ puzzled, then laughin’ to myself fer bein’ so foolish, I started off again up the hills, when the feelin’ came the third time, ‘Go up the river,’ and I turned without any more arguin’ to do what I was told. Yes, what I wuz told, boy; fer if I wuz to live a thousand years I’d never believe any different. I larnt that day, if never before, that God does hear prayers when they’re sent up right.   “I hadn’t walked far when I seen somethin’ across the river that looked curious. It wasn’t animals—it was men—men on their knees, ’bout six of them in a circle. I supposed at first they wuz havin’ dinner, but they wa’n’t any{80} signs o’ camp about and they had their hats off; looked like they wuz prayin’, and so they wuz.   “Then I looked up the river and jest across from them, ’most ashore on a sand bar, was somethin’ else that looked like a dead man. I hurried up the bank and saw thet it was a dead man—anyway I thought so till I waded out and looked him over. He wa’n’t dead, but he was mighty near drowned. I dragged him to a drier place on the bar and worked to bring him to. Bimeby he got enough life in him to tell me what had happened.   “The men on the other bank were shoutin’ to me all the while, but I couldn’t make out what they said, fer the river was roarin’, it bein’ high water. But this man told me that they wuz Mormon Battalion boys tryin’ to ketch up with Brigham Young’s band of pioneers. They had come up too late to get ’em on the far side of the river, and the ferryboat was left on the side I was. So he had tried to swim the stream on a horse, but the horse was drowned, and he had just barely made it across by half swimmin’ and bein’ washed by the current on to the bar where I found him.   “Well, we soon made it up to the ferry and swung the old flatboat back to the men. They{81} were so glad they laughed and cried and called me God’s good angel sent in answer to their prayers. They hadn’t had anything to eat fer two days, fer they had been expectin’ to ketch the pioneers sooner and hadn’t stocked up with much grub at Fort Laramie.   “We hurried across the river again and followed the fresh pioneer trail fer about a mile, and there we found ’em camped jest beyend the bluffs of the river. It was a happy meetin’, I tell you. Their leader, Brigham Young, jest hugged the hungry men. As fer me, they couldn’t get over thankin’ me, though I hadn’t done nothin’ worth fussin’ ’bout. They fed me with the best they had and asked me all sorts of questions ’bout the country ’fore I left ’em.   “I tell you, boy, there’s somethin’ in prayer. It’s a good thing to keep the trail between you and God clear.”   The story seemed to open a vein of rich memories in the old mountaineer’s mind. Fred plied him with eager questions and listened rapt in interest as Uncle Dave told of his experiences in the western wilds. His old heart, warmed by the youthful spirit that drew him out, became youthful again as he lived over the days gone by.   It was long past noon before either realized how the day had slipped away. Fred rose to{82} go, saying appreciatively, “My, but I have enjoyed this fun. It has been a real pioneer day for me, Uncle Dave.”   “Glad you come up, boy; but ye ain’t goin’ yet, air ye?”   “Yes, I must be off now; I’ve made a promise to join in the fun that’s coming to-night.”   “Thet’s right; keep yer promise, but come again.”   “I will,” said the boy, as he turned Brownie up the trail toward home.