The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1896-04-04

wife and three children dragged into
poverty, want-that was the rub. Be
sides, too, it hurt his New England
pride to see his fourteen year-old
Jack and twelve year old Anne grow
ing up without better schooling. If
things had only gone smoothly the
past few years, they would now be
away in the city schools. He meant
that his children should have all the
education they wanted, the education
he had vainly craved himself.
But now! it was going to be a
question how to keep hunger from
the door, to say nothing about the
comforts and schooling, Yes, want
lack of actually stared him
and his in the face. Winter was ap-
preaching, and there was little more
credit to be obtained at the store.
Was it any wonder, then, that the
honest bronzed face of John Squires
bore a care-worn, almost desperate
look? That the wonted smile had
faded from his lips?
whoa He reined up his team
at the edge of a high bluff overlook
ing the charming little vale in which
! was situated his humble home. He
then gazed out sadly, yet fondly,
over the pretty scene before him.
Surely nature had done everything
that could be asked in the way of
making a beautiful environment to a
quiet home. A valley surrounded on
three sides by lofty hills, whose rocky
formations presented every variety
of shape and color, was studded with
noble frs; while picturesque ravines
opened into it there, down which, in
the rainy seasons, babbled noisy
brooks. Directly in the bottom, at
the head of this valley, stood the
"Rocky View Ranch"
eff that well hadn't given out, she
should at least "a had her flowers"
he muttered. Just then a rustic
among some bushes below drew his
attention. STOPPING, he picked up
stone and watched for the rabbit he
next expected to see. But instead
out scud a big, tawny coyote, which
disappeared almost as quickly as it
appeared; a flash of dirty yellow,
that was all.
You sneaking brute, you'll You
would like to snap up the last chicken
we've got, wouldn't you? Take that!"
But the stone fell far short, and
he continued soliloquizing:
"That's all the ranch is good for
raising, guess, coyotes, prairie dogs
and-ough" (this as he struck his
WORKOUT boot against an humble
clump of prickly-pear) "and cactuses.
l guess Mary and l missed it tskin'
up this claim. We ought to have
taken up that alongside of Jenkins
by the creek. But this was so peace
ful-like ard pretty. And it would be
all right for a milk walk now, if |
had the COWS back-and it want so
dry. Get up!'
Jolt, jolt, JOLT Stop, splash, swashl
down the steep, rough road to the
house slowly rolled the cart contain
ing barrel of precious spring water
water from one of those curious,
never failing artesian springs COM
mon. to that country. A scanty din
ner awaited him that day. To-mor-
row, unless something was done,
there would be none.
"Well have to come down to it,
john" said the tired, patient wife, as
she poured out the "bran-coffee" that
noon. That's all there is left of the
last chicken but four, you know, and
if we kill them what'll we do for next
spring." It won't be so bad as you
think" she added, hastily, as she
saw look of hopelessness come over
her husbands face. you've said
yourself that they eat the same stuff
as rabbits, and why shouldn't they
be just as good eating? Last year
it was all that kept hundreds of
folks in Texas from starving, folks
just as good as we"
John Squires shuddered as he
glanced round on his little flock, and
then up into his wife's eyes.
"Praire-dogs" he gasped. ITO
think that I've got to feed my family
on prairie-dogs! l, Squiresl No,
Mary, l can't do it. I'll go to the
mines frst-ought to have started
long ago."
There was something SO tragically
ludicrous about all this, that at any
other time the usually bright, funlov-
ing Mrs. Squires would have laughed
outright. But she didn't then. Her
husbands last sentence spoiled it.
Instead, her blue ewes filed with