The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1886-03-19
HEAD OF OXEN RUN.


1t was aday fitted by the gods for
an exploration. There was sharp.
wild tinge in the December wind; there
was an alluring haze on the distant hill,
and the great, teccy clouds. rolling
from horizon to horizon, invited us on
ward. "Lct us find the head of Oxen
Run" my friend had said to me, and l
had willingly agreed. We had tramp
ed to the place where it rippled merrily
along its fertile valley. and had seen it
lounge lazily, as if tired with its long
journey, into the Potomac. We knew
that ut its mouth it was quite pre-
sumptious stream. but its source was
an unsolved mystery. The maps did
not aid us. for on the only map which
dignified it with place, it began with a
few uncertain curves, as if the map
maker did not really know whether he
was right or wrong.
An hours walk across the Anacostia
bridge, past the little village of Good
Hope, and thence along the Ridge roud,
brought lis to a rough and rustic bridge.
Leaning on its unsteady rail, we looked
down into the clear waters Of the run.
Even here the stream was quite wide,
and hurried along with that air of in
dependence and sclf-isscrtion. which. as
in a child, is only acquired some time
after birth. II do not think its source
is more than two miles from here"
said my companion, whercupon the
stream with all its ears open, laughed
louder than ever.
1t was perhaps good omen that in q
few moments we found some pcrsinl-
mons. If, as Thorcau says, raspbcr-
ries are the best food for ascending u
mountain, surely pcrsimmons are the
proper sustenance on winters walk
when one is exploring a stream. They
have such an out-door-tlavor; they are
wild, they are juicy, they are sweet
They impart to ones blood wintry
exhilaration, the combined essence of
sunshine and frost. When tramp in
the spring-time l find that l carry off
something from the sapplings against
which brush. ! imbibe the inspira-
zion of the new sap in their veins.
catch something Of their elasticity,
their power to lift themselves back to
be once more tall and shapely, though
they were bent to the ground. A sub
lie spirit imparts lithesomencss to nv
step. But in winter the persimmon inn
parts hardness and endurance.
wonder if it has the power to change a
heart, that like itself, was hard and
sour, into Il sweetcr morscl for the en-
joyment of the world.
There is considerable color to be noted
in the landscape rs we follow the mean
dering of the stream. The hillsides are
warm and brown, the s,mach is still
red and the smilax berries are blue; the
tall scdge grass is as yellow as field
in harvest time, and there are bits of
green in the sheltered hollows of the
brook. The tnts may not be prettily
blended, but they are well defined. and
you feel that Nature, even in winter is
not wholly given over to monotony and
death. Beneath the warm covering of
dead leaves l found clump of green
clover, doing its best to keep up the
pulsations Of its tiny heart until the
springtime. This life and this beauty
would have been hid from us forever
but for our search: but the death and
corruption in yonder field is advertised
to the whole country by the half-hun-
dred blzzards who rise in alarm at our
approach.
A mile further on the stream is not
so wide or deep. Here, for the first
time since we left the road, we meet a
human being-a boy. He looks at us
in mute surprise. His hat is thrown
back from his face. and no stands with
his hands thrust into the pockets of his
homespun suit.
when will we reach the head of this
stream?" ! ask.
"Neyer!'
The reply was prompt and decisive.
To the boy the stream was a sealed book
beyond the hills that bounded his hori-
zon. 1t began for him in the remote
Somewhere and ended in the more dis
tant PARKWAY. And yet. SO far as it
related to his own environment the
stream had peculiar interest for him.
In the hole in front of us he had caught
the largest iron-back mullct which that
part of the country had ever seen. 1t
was SO large that he thought it was
snake, and he had to kill ii with stone.
Then, had we noticed a broken dam
below? Yes. Well. the boys had made
that dam for swimming pool; but
some negro girls had used it one morn
ing for the same purpose, and on be-
ing discovered had torn it down out of
pure vexation. Did we believe a rab.
bit could be ghost? We did not. The
boy was not SO positive. Over in yonder
field rabbit was frequently started by
the dogs. 1t ran for certain distance
and then disappeared, leaving no trace.
There was no hole, it simply vanished.
Even this lonely tract, therefore, was
on its way to civilization. 1t had its
tragedy, its social events, and its super
stitions.
What chase that stream led us!
Sometimes it would leave its narrow,
gravclly bed and spread itself out over
several square yards of swamp. Then
would we think that we had pinned our
game and congratulate ourselves upon
ZIG capture. Duu upon Tie Other side
OF the swamp, when we had made the
circuit, we find fresh trail, leading,
heaven knew where. And SO, along
hillsides, and across fields; BY untrayei.
ed roads and a fresh looking grave.
yard, we followed the stream, Watching
it grow more sluggish every minute.
We rested for while under some pines:
but the pine aside from its poetic muir.
muring, is not the warm rcsinous tree
that it is in summer. Besides, these
were stunted, stubby pines. not tall and
graceful. Through their silent aislos
no bird fitted, and their everlasting
shade was only broken here and there
6y uneven splashes of sunlight. Out in
the open there were bluebirds. detach.
ed pieces of the azure sky above us;
and chickadees and sparrows; and once