The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1896-01-26
Snatched from the Jaws Of
Death.
A Grateful Indian Boy Who Repaid
His Debt Generously When the
Time Came.
BY W. THOMPSON.


Copyrighted. 1895. by W. Thompson)
One bitterly cold night in November,
1869. Tom Morgan, a young fellow of II,
il a light wagon drawn by a pair OF
wiry cayuses, was crossing the big
Prairie in North Dakota. He had
come within three miles of his father
homestead when suddenly there ap-
peared in the northwest a rapidly ris-
ing bank Of yellow fringed clouds
The boy knew only too well what
this portended, and in another moment
his team, urged by whip and voice.
was flying for life along the level plain
But it was too latei In less than five
minutes the blizzard came down upon
him: and. while snow cut into his face
like needle-points, the ponies, despite
his utmost eXertions, swerved wildly
from their course, bending low their
heads and moaning with fear.
Bred in these storn3-swept wilds. the
sagacious creatures instinctively recog-
nized their danger. and. as is custom
airy with the untamed herds OF their
kind. sought only to rush away. down
and with the wind. They, poor things,
could not know chat their only chance
of safety lay in regaining their stables;
and, if they had known, they lacked
the courage to face the terrible blast,
which came straight from that direc-
ton. So, maddened by terror, every
bound took them farther and farther
from home. until after running a mile
or so, and becoming partially ex-
hausted, they were obliged to yield to
Toms saving pull, and come to a
standstill.
Outside his winter clothing. the
young man wore a great, hooded bvr-
falo skin coat, and over his feet, and
reaching about the knee, were drawn
a huge pair Of boots Of the same ma
terial with the fur inside Besides, he
had two large buffalo robes, one on
the seat and one over his lap, while
beneath the seat were two heavy horse
blankets with sursingl and fastening
straps complete. and a bolt of flannel
cloth, which he had bought at Bis
marck for his mother. Thus he might
brave the cold for hours; but the
ponies. hardy as they were, must. I'M
less in some way protected. quickly
freeze to death; for the temperature
was now several degrees below zero
and the piercing wind and dust-like
searching snow robbed living bodies of
heat much more rapidly than could a
MINDLESS cold of even 50 degrees below.
a TIME OF PERIL
Realizing all this, Tom got out of the
wagon, put the blankets on the SILVER
ing horses, buckled tight the sursingles
and breat-straps. and then, tearing
strips from the flannel bandaged their
eyes; his own hands, necessarily with
drawn for a brief space from the wolf
skin nittens, being well nigh frozen in
the operation. Next, he turned the
team sQuarely around, feeling certain
that all he had to do in order to reach
home was simply to travel against the
wind-little imagining that while he
drifted before it, it had veered north
ward by number of points.
The ponies now faced the blast with
tolerable patience; but its force was so
great that they could go no faster than
a slow trot, while the driver. unable
to see ten yards ahead, could guide
them only by keeping the wind direct
yin his own tortured face.
Tom knew that, even at this moder-
ate pace. he ought, if on the right
track, to strike some of the home
buildings or fences in about an hour
after turning; but when that time and
half as much more had passed away
without realizing the hope, he awoke
to the dread consciousness that he was
lost-lost in a blizzard on the open
prairie, which in nine out Of ten cases
means death to all exposed human
and animal life.
1t was inexplicable! He had Travelled
straight as a line into the winds eye
and could rot conceive how he had
missed his fathers farm. Stopping the
ponies, he sat for a minute in deep
thought during which he drew his
driving-hand from the mitten and, for
warmth, thrust it into the inner breast
pocket Of his shaggy coat, when. away
down at its bottom, his fingers touched
some metallic object; and, with a cry
Of JOY. he pulled out a tiny compassi
left there probably by his father, who
often wore this same coat.
The little brass-encased instrument
was less than two inches in diameter,
and yet within it lay a lffe's ransom
could the finder but read the indica-
ton of its slender blue needle. He
could not, however. Again and again,
holding it close to a srow-wreath
caught in a fold of the robe, he
strained his strong. young eyes in vain
TO see how the teiltale fragment Of
steel pointed. Twas no use. The dial
remained an undecipherable blur, and
the needle itself quite invisible; while
as If impatient for its prey, the pitt
less storm seemed to shrek in mock
ing derision of his agony.
THE PRECIOUS FLAME.
But the brave boy was not yet beaten
somewhere about his clothing there