The Bottineau pioneer. (Bottineau, N.D.) 1885-1895, 1889-12-21
A BLIZZARD.

corld reach, on either side stretched tho
broad prairie with not a tree or a house in
sight. Yet the group gathered in front Of
the lone house seemed happy enough.
There were four persons-husband, wife,
and their two children. The husband was
seated in a ''big" wagon, to which was
harncssed two good horses, the wife stand
ing near, one chubby babe in her arms.
another, a wee toddler, clinging to her
dress and coaxing to "go with papa"
"WSl. Maggie, I must be off, said the
husband, picking up the reins and settling
himself comfortably. "Never mind,
baby" to the little one, papa will bring
something pretty to his grille. Don't be
lonesome wife, I'll be back before night.
You know we must have coal and other
things. Good-by."
"Good-by, Tom," said the wife, so with
q word to the horses her husband drove
rapidly off in the direction of the little
town ten miles distant, where they secured
their necessary supplies.
For a little while Margaret Grant
watched the wagon, Then, when it dis
appeared from her sight behind one of the
great pillows that, wavelike, cover the
great plain, she entered the room, closing
the door behind her, and, sitting down, en-
ployed herself with caring for her little
ones. How long she had been thus m
ployed she did not notice until the striking
clock warned her of the flight of time.
The baby had fallen asleep in her lap. The
other one, a 3-year-old, was busy piling
cobs and then upsetting them on the floor.
She laid the sleeping child on the bed, and
replenishing the fire. which was burning
low, went to the door, and, opening it,
looked out long and earnestly. Surely the
wind was rising and the sky growing
gray with clouds. Her heart sank. "He
ought not to have gone" she murmured,
''but then the coal is nearly out, and the
-four. too" She closed the door and went
about her work. Only the Spring before
they had come West. built their home, cul.
tivated a little patch of ground. entered
their 100 acres, and with youth and health
themselves an abiding place. Her thoughts
went back to the home they had left.
Somehow she felt depressed. She was not
homesick, surely. Tom had often left her
and the children for a day, and now she
knew he had been compelled to 60. for
they must have fuel and food. The.
weather had been so fine, and he so busy
breaking ground for his spring crop that
he had already put it off too long. She
opened the door again. A few flakes OF
snow were falling. 1t was getting colder;
the wind was higher. Her heart grew
heavy. The baby awoke and cried, and
the little girl was hungry. She tenderly
cared for them, but she could not eat. The
food choked her. How dark it was getting,
and the clock said only 2 p. m. She looked
from the window. How fast the snow was
falling. She could see nothing else. "Oh,
Tom" she thought, what a cold, cold
ride you will have" Only a cold ride; no
thought of danger crossed her mind. She
had heard of the terrible storms on the
prairies, but this snow fall, surely, surely,
it was not dangerous, But how cold ii
was getting. She poured more fuel into
the stove, and opening the back door,
thought she would go to the little sod stable
and attend to the COW before night came on,
but she could not see; the snow blinded her.
Then a sudden feeling of help1essness and
terror filled her. Closing the door she
sank on her knees and tried to pray. Night
came without bringing her husband. To.
ward morning she sank into an uneasy
slumber and was awakened by strange
noises, a stamping as of many feet, and
the air seemed filled with strange, unearthly
sounds. The snow was still falling, but
all around her door it was tramped
down by the hoofs of the great
crowd of cattle that struggled
and beloved, pushing their
way forward, drifting with the wind.
They did not notice the open door. She
could only see those in front of her, but
she knew by the sounds there were many
OF them. Going to the opposite wi, ow
the same great brown horned beasts greeted
her eyes. 1t seemed to her hours passed
before the noise died away, and then, how
awful the silence that reigned. DAYS
passed. A week wen: by. The storm
ceased, the sun shone. and the jewellers in
the little town ten miles away bethought
them of the settler who had driven out of
town with q load of coal at noon the day
the blizza d set in. They had warned
him, but he would go. "Wife and child
rem were alone" he said, with scanty
supply of food and fuel" Men shook
thelr heads and women sighed, but while
the storm-an unusual one even there
lasted nothing could he done, and for some
'.'.,Js the deep snow was impossible: but
when Christmas morning dawned bright
anu mid. a half dozen sturdy fellows set
out on their difficult task. On foot. work.
ing their way step by step through great
drifts, they went, making, in spite of
every effort, but a couple O miles. Then,
compelled to return home exhausted and
half frozen. A sorry Christmas for them.
put they said, "Our dear ones are safe"
And as they sat at their own tresidcs thew.
wondered how Christmas had passed in the
lonely sod house on the prairie. Next
day they set out again. and Just before
nlghtfall reached their destination.
NO sign of life was there. They
knocked. No answer came. Pushing
The door open they entered, and, oh,
sorrowful sight! on the bed. dead
babies held close in her arms, lay the dead
mother. A scrap of paper on the table
with o pencil near it attracted the attention
of one OF the men. Picking it up he read
with 1altering voice: "Good-by, Tom. I
have done all l could. If you are out in
this dreadful storm, God help you. I will
go to bed with the children" The letters
were struggling and faint, as if the stiffen.
ing fingers could scarcely he guided. Tears
rose to the eyes of the mcn as they looked
at the bed and then out on the snow.cov-
cred plain. Somewhere out there, thew
knew, the body of the husband and father
lay. And a few week. later he was found.
not a hundred yards from his home. He
had StriVen tn reach hiS lnuod o,o for r.