Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1898-08-27

level, smooth and solid, except for oc-
casional stretches of sand and out
cropping of lava rock--the terror Of
the teamster
He had to make good time. Late as
it was, it would be we'll into the night
before he reached Red Hole and the
horses there, for the relay would want
the water before their start across the
desert.
The strong young horses pulled the
heavy tank at steady pace over the
road, whether good or bad. 1t rolled
smoothly over the solid gravel, fur
rowed deep the sand, and crashed
over the rock with creaking of wood,
a rumbling of iron and mighty splash
ing of water.
A haze of heat hung over the desert
To Steve the Snake River hills were
smolsily indistinct, and the long Bitter
Root Divide was mistily perceptible.
1t marked the boundary between Idaho
and Montana, and lay in land that was
the resort of rougher characters.
The dark outline of the divide,
shifting gently in the simmer of the
desert, pleasantly suggested to Steve
the shade of spruce and lulling water
and indirectly that cool corner stall in
the stage barn. The low sun at his
back threw his long shadow down IL
smooth stretch of road; the team had
settled to the collar; and Steve, yield
ing to that pleasant suggestion, was
soon asleep and driving with a
perilous swaying on the high seat.
Jolted along thus with danger and
discomfort, the hostler suddenly found
himself nearly pitched headlong over
the foot-board. The tank had stopped
abruptly. Involuntarily he put his
hand to his eyes. The sun had gone
down, and in the twilight he saw be-
fore him three mounted Bannock In
dians.
One, on his pony in the middle OF
the road, had stopped the team. The
others sat statuesque in their saddles
al either front wheel, and the voice OF
one called in his waking ears. "Water!'
Half-asleep as he was, Steve recog-
nized the three onlookers of the morn
ing at Lost River.
"Sure" he now made reply; and
taking the bucket from the foot-board
Mt his feet, he leaned back and raised
the iron cap and filed the bucket gem
erously.
The blank eted rider on his right
reached out, took it, lowered his head
to meet it, and thrust in his mouth
and nostrils like a watering horse,
long and eagerly. With heaving
sigh he passed the bucket back to
Steve, who handed it to the silent
waiter on his left. He, too, drank
greelily, and then rode with it to his
companion, stationed motionlessly al
the head of the team.
"Water for pony" again said the
statuesque spokesman at the off wheel
"Not much!" returned Steve, who
was used to the always increasing de-
mands of the Indian. 'That's against
orders. Fetch that bucket back here
and ride on to Lost River"
"Water for pony!" the man per
sisted
1t struck Steve that his tone wa:
strangely mandatory for a Bannock
He looked more closely at the speaker
The man held a rifle across his saddle
and headless jack-rabbit hung at th'
shrunken flank of his pony. His gay
many .colored blanket, his brillian
scarlet flannel leggings, his bleachet
and broidered moccasins-all wer'
alike picturesque and proper, and hi
had the feather OF petty chief slant
ing properly from his hat.
The hat was pulled down on hi
head, Indian fashion, to meet the muff
ling fold Of the blanket below, and OF
the face thus partially screened, Stew
saw cheek-bones fittingly reddenet
with ochre.
Still Steve's scrutinizing eyes wer'
not satisfied. Something was want
ing. The man turned his head t
beckon to his companion with th'
bucket. With his movement hi
blanket was thrown from his shoulder
and Steve saw that the two long horse
hair-like braids that nvariably bedecl
the shoulders Of the Bannock brave
were lacking
"Water for pony" again reiterated
this chief with the eagle-feather bu
without the braids, while his equal,
bradless follower. resuming his sta
ton at the opposite front wheel, leane
from the saddle and silently extende,
the bucket to the driver of the tank
who as silently took it.
The stamp of the horses, restless a
the stoppage, emphasized that instan
of waiting. The dangling toggles O.
their straining tugs tangled thei
clear suggestion, and Steve gave on
glance before him at the road.
"Fill up that bucket, young feller |!
surprising voice rang out imperiousl
at the rear wheel and electrified til
motionless driver of the tank. can
be quick about it'll" added the speaker
impatient of further sort of disguise
as he significantly raised his rifle. Hi
voice, surely not that of an Indian
: rather than his action, startled Stew
upright on the foot t-board.
"Well, il you're bound to hav
water" he said. raising the bucket
, seeming fuster, II reckon I'll hav
to - Hike"
With the exploding word the buckt
shot from his hand, we'll aimed at th
fellows head. With the word, alst
, the tank was jerked nearly from undt
him by the forward leap Of the team
and he had q parting vision Of fal