Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1894-01-29


frs; while below the Sierra was Ran
cho Bonita, tossing on a brown billow
of this barren sea. Four-fve-swells
more and the rancho will be dashed
in the face of Sierra! No, it is not the
sea, it is only the desert. Yet how
like the sea-so monotonous, so des-
olate.
Here the pillows ceased tossing,
and the map on the brain was folded
away. Now the doctor saw only the
rance. He was thinking it SO like a
bark on an unsailed ocean, that would
meet no other vessel. The doctor
was an imaginative man, with poetic
nature. Seen in more inhabited
country, this same poor little ranch
would have been to him but a simple
version Of poverty, pitiful, but all
told, but here in the desert, where
the aid which does not come from self
must come from God-in a solitude SO
infinite this seemed inadequate
him such self imposed Punishment
suggested rather than said, and left
the mind cropping.
His horse stopped to drink the cool
water which crept- out from under a
blanket of sand, where, for a few
yards, trap dixie crossed the canyon
and forced the aqua perdida to the
surface. The ranch was in view, with
Tom standing barefooted in the trail
leading from it to the water.
Glad you've come, doctor. Bills
mighty loco in his talk to- day. Pears
something seems to be bothering him
in his mind. From his talk, I judge
his life has been streaky-like full o.
black and white, like the wood agate
in the Mogallions. I took my boots
and spurs off, Tom continued, looking
apologetically at his bare feet. Bill
mistook the spur jingle for the COW
bells on the range, cause he wanted
me to saddle Monte; said the storm
was on the divide, and the cattle was
drifting.
It's the fever; delirum accompanies
it, said the doctor, as they entered
the shack.
Meron was lying on rough couch
of quilts thrown over few blankets
and hides, supported by a cot of |
boards. The room was hideously hot,
mace breath from the desert wandered
through the half matched walls of
acacias.
The surgeon walked to the door and
looked YEARLY across the brown
waste. Morrisy should be here to-
night, he muttered.
He was thinking of ice. Meron's
pulse was an octave too high. The
fever was rising. Already he was
tossing on the uncharted tides of de-
lirium, that mysterious sea where the
landmarks of life appear for a mo-
ment, and then sink and are forgot
ten. He no longer heard the tinkle
of the cattle bell in the pines up the
canyon; the storm day had passed on
the dry divide where his partner had
been caught in cloudburst and swept
away. He was back in the pleasant
East now, unacquainted with the des-
7rt, and the time was early summer. ]
He spoke of woman in his rawlings |
now; but of her [ cannot say. The
story belongs to Tom and the surgeon, :
and they never told it. {
But this do know, that after the
lelirium the surgeon went often to
Rancho Bonita, and that Tom drank ,
heavily of ranch coffee and watched
lay and night at the bedside of Me- !
on, sleeping only during the sur {
,eon's visits
Days passed on = superheated, '
days, where your chronol- S
,gy collapsed and faculties tainted. '
But they won the fever battle in the t
ace of the desert. The doctor said it S
vas nursing, while Tom thought it g
vas the occult knowledge of doctor
Who could wear a captains uniform. i
One evening, when Meron was con- '
-alescent, he rode with Tom to the Z
,arrison. They met the surgeon at {
he traders.
Doctor, said Meron, Tom tells me
Ou are ordered East. a
Yes, start for Boston to morrow, n
nd wish could take you with me, i
1eron; it would do you good.
never go East, said Meron, simply,
boxing at the surgeon with that far, .
teady gaze which sees nothing. I.
The surgeon caught the glance, and :
dded: You will have Tom with you =
ow, suppose?
I want him to stay, but he is going +
n the fall round up at Pantano, and h
hen Meron continued, awkwardly, as ),