The Helena independent. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1875-1943, 1891-08-16
THE S~HADOWGRAPHER.
IA MONTANA SKETCH.

IL oShSo JoAAASI " OoopAo W. LOWAA-
send is not a pleasant one under most
favorable conditions. From the new town of
Monte Cristo to the mountain hidden din
ner station the road stretches for miles
over a vast plateau of faded sage
brush raised on a canvas of coarse
brown sand. Away in the distance and
| guarding the horizon are the snow covered
Crazys, and but for these the monotony Of
the desert plain is unbroken. 1t is here
that the sun spends his concealed fire and
reserves his less torrid lines for more
favored places. The sand is of a different
kind from most localities. 1t rises as if
in wrnthful animation and hunts out the
most sensitive points for attack and there
builds layer after layer of burning gar
ment. It ines the delicate, membranes of
the throat, fys into the films of the eye
and creeps by degrees into ones boot leg
and over the body until the victim falls in
the sandy bed of the stage coach and yearns
for death. Add "knowing" driver and the
punishment is complete.
All this was unknown to me when I
started from Castle. The old Salisbury
coach with its four horses was before the
gabled and logged hotel; the driver was fast
forgetting the world under the blandish-
ments of a pretty waiter girl when another
traveller fell into the coach with force suf-
iclent to ruin a choice assortment of Castle
cigars i'll the inner pocket of my coat. In
%dignation took a swift glance at my friend
as the driver mounted the box and with a
crack of his whip sent the wheelers flying
down the only street of the camp. If a de-
sirable companion was wanted the cursory
examination was anything but satisfactory.
He had been drinking and would therefore
be extensively sociable; he might even insist
on introducing a third companion already
protruding its corked head from a
recess in the leather coat. A
refusal might arouse personal differences
while on the other hand the
third ones companionship wes really
to be dreaded. At all events
none of these things were to be
of immediate occurrence for my fellow
traveller pulled his slouched hat over his
head until it barely touched the ragged
edge of his sandy and grizzled mustache,
and leaning over in a corner of the coach
fell asleep. i rejoiced and turned to the
outside world.
The morning was cool and pleasant for
the sun had only thrown his first guards
along the lines of light. The coach flew
down a rocky grade, accompanied by q
shout from the returning fragments of a
night shift on the Cumberland, and then
touched the the edge of a green rolling
prairie. A milk ranch just awaken
ing to the days routine was the
last habitation before the station
but there were other signs of life.
The long wagon trains were a picturesque
reminder of carly days. The nights camp
was breaking when the drivers CHEEKY
voice brought the coach to a halt, while an
exchange of gossip with the wagon master
followed. The grass-fed horses were re-
turning from green pasturage, the camp
fires incense arose in savory fumes as the
canvas-covered wagons were rolled into
marching order. An hours ride was marked
by the clustered rays of the rising sun and
the domain of sage brush and sand. The
freshness of the morning gave way to the
dry heat of the now matured day and the
real disoomforts of stage travel were in full
development. The sun blazed away with
increasing force and the sand flew
from its bed thicker and faster
as the journey progressed. The horses
covered with dusty foam, Jagged with the
driver, whose sombrero covered head
was turned downward over half-closed
eyes. My companion was fast
asleep, and l soon found myself drop-
ping in the same direction. There il
no accurate knowledge of how long this
condition continued. | think all were too
discouraged to measure the time. At nil
events the interior of the coach suddenly
came to life through the agency of a pitch
in the road, a loud hurrah, and a quick
lurch of the coach rs it came to n
full stop. There we were in a little GLADE
OF running water. green foliaged trees and
native wild flowers. A low ranch of logs.
surrounded by u wild hedge, was before
US. Standing with mouth agape and pIist-
eninR eyes, was a six-year-oId boy. | do
not know what there was about him. but
you sometimes see u boys face rejecting
manhood that lmpresses you at a glance,
| think this must have struck my compan-
ion, for he opened his eyes and gazed at
the boy until the coach, with its change of
horses, wheeled down the newly opened
mountain road.
A half hour may have passed and | am
sure the incident was half forgotten when
my companion aroused and turned toward
me.
He looked like our little johnny, John