The morning times., 1896-02-16
Showed
In for
Three Days
How the Cow Saved a
Baby's Life.


occasion to go from Des Moines, 10 Min
neapolis. Friday morning was clear and
cold, about twenty degrees below zero,
colder than is usual in Iowa. l fortified
myself with as good a breakfast as one
can eat at $50 a. m. and with unusual
forethought took luncheon enough for one
meal.
The train consisting of "a baggage car
and two passenger coaches, moved slowly
out of the depot, and settled itself for
long pull OF three hundred miles toward
the north.
The windows were so frosted that even
after "a. m, when il was light enough
to see, we could not catch glimpse of
the country through which we were pass
ing. Taking my knife I scraped place
on the window and found that the air
was full OF snow, fine necdle-like flakes
that came against the window like sand,
and there was strong wind blowing.
Notwithstanding that the snow plow
was ahead, the train moved slower and
slower, and at last it went chuck into
snow bank and stopped. In a few min
utes man came back from the snow
plow to say that although it was only
half mile ahead 1t would be Impossible
for us to get through as the snow was
drifting i'll so fast, and that we had better
try and pail back to Corwith, a little
station about three miles a way rather than
be stalled between that and Britz, the next
station about twenty miles distant.
1t was about p. m. when the train
stopped, and l divided my lunch among
the three little cbildren, whose mothers.
with myself, were the only women pas
sengers on the train. About + O'clock the
conductor came in and said that ne had
found place where the ladies could stay
and the men would have TO do the best
they could in the car.
There were not more than SIX houses
In sight, and l turned up the collar of my
cloak and ran across to the little one
where we were to stay. II had but two
rooms, but there was a good coal fire
and we were comfortable.
They killed q sheep
KILLED A SHEEP and cooked it, and
TO LIVE ON. that with some bis
cults, was the food
that we had for three days. At night
as we gathered around the fire, stories
We're told of how they put down food
enough 10 last the cattle three or four
days, and then made no attempt TO get
to them until the storm was over.
Saturday the storm that had continued
during the night ceased, and Sunday MORN
ing the conductor came in with theweI-
come intelligence that the snow-plow was
coming. Straight away. ten miles. we could
see IL put on steam and with all possible
force run into snow bank, then the other
engines would hitch on aud pull it cut to
have it repeat the same process. and thus
1t slowly worked lis way toward s. until
1t stood putting on the track at the station
with hundred men who had done their
part toward shoveling us out.
Half of the men were to go on to see that
the rest Of the road was clear, while the
remainder were to help our train on north.
We left Corwith at a. m. ana went for
seven miles, when suddenly sharp and clear
came the whistle, Down brakes
and therain stopped. Istepped to hc door
of the car.
What is the matter, CONDUCTOR"
asked as some of the men crowded out on
the platform and looked across the prairie.
Its Anderson's cabin" he replied. II
always look for the smoke when go past
here in the morning. There isn't any now,
and I'm afraid something has happened In
the storm. His wife died last fan and
he's lived there alone since with his two
children.
There was silence in the car the men had
been out two days and nights shoveling
most Of the time, and there was hardly one
of them but had his face, hands, or some
part of his body frozen, and the cabin.
though plainly TO be seen in the clear at
was mile and half away.
and a broad eXpanse of unbrokeu snow lay
between.
1t was but a moment, however, when
one of the men spoke:
Come on, boys;
SNUG AND WARM We've got to find out
WITH THE COW. what's become OF
them kids and, tax
ing his shovel, he sprang off the car, fol-
lowed by the others.
We watched them as they slowly made
their way across the prairie, and gath
cred in little knot around the cabin. At
last they started back, ii was a strange
procession. First came two men each
with a child, wrapped and held close TO
their warm bodies; next -four men who
bore a body wrapped in blanket, one
that would never know storm or cold
again, for it was Anderson, frozen 10
death. and last OF all they led a cow
whose plaintive lowing was the only
sound.
We took the children into the pasSen-
ger coach while the men laid the body
decently in one corner OF the baggage
ear, drove the COW into it by means of
slant boards, and the train moved on.
The children, a boy of eight and a little
girl of three, were taken 20 the stove. and,
their clothing, we rubbed the
little limp limbs until warmth spread
through their bodies. The hoy recovered
quickly, but IL was long time before the
little girl opened her eyes.
You see, ma'am, il was the cow that
saved, them" said one OF the men standing
near. when we got TO the cabin Il was
lalf full of snow and no one TO be seen We
went TO the barn and there were the two
lying one on each side OF the cow,
Just as he had LAID 'em, though he himself
was farther away. And that COW lay there
rs if she knew the children had nothing TO
depend on for warmth but her, and she
hadn't even stirred, as you could see by
he snow that drfted around her. and /
said. Boys, we can't leave that COW to
freeze TO death after what she's done, and
we'll just take her along"
The little girl moaned in my arms and,
opening her blue eyes, said some words
in Norwegian that / could not understand
and | shook my head: then she opened and
shut her mouth feebly two or three times
TO indicate that she wanted feod. There