Williston graphic. (Williston, Williams County, N.D.) 1895-1919, 1902-03-13
Of these he found that his pipe vas

Of these he found that his pipe was
always ready for fresh filing
| Hold-ups or highway robberies we're
quite infrequent inthe Blue Duck coun-
try. While many people were on the
trails when the weather permitted,
they carried few valuables and the
temptation to rob was slight. Then,
too, men prone to highway robbery
were not many in numbers. They
never found the climate healthful.
Torson in his journeys with the mail
carried more wealth about him than
any man in the region. Nearly all Of
the letters he brought contained
money from friends at home to those
who were making the life of the from
tier. Yet day after day and month
after month Torson pursued his way
unm olested.
| It was New Years week that Tor
son found himself at the Cub Creek
with over 600 letters in his posses
sion for the settlers east of that
point. He knew that everyone of them
was expecting mail and that the
quicker he crossed the prairies the
happier they would be. He took his
supper at Harper's and refused an in
vitation to spend the night there at
a sitting of cribbage.
II am going to Blue Duck tonight"
he said, "and finish my route by to-
morrow night. Letters are worth
more than food out there, I think"
, He filled his pipe, bundled himself
into his sledge, gave his ponies the
rein, and they struck out over the
plain at rapid pace. Torson's head
was hooded in fur, but there were
openings for the eyes, nose and mouth.
He could look down at the bowl of his
pipe and see the gentle glow of the
coal within. 1t was his habit to keep
his tobacco-pouch strung about his
neck and outside of his fur coat, so
that he never had to unbutton to reach
it. Now it laid on the robe which en-
veloped him, its long cord hanging
loosely about his neck.
On his journeys, having no one else
to talk to. Torson usually conversed
with his pipe, and this night proved
no exception to the rule. The mail
carrier told the pipe all the inner Sc
crets of his soul, he whispered of am
billions long since dead, he chatted of
his well-beloved children, he said fond
words of his wife, he related past New
Years experiences, he wished he were
a boy again and he was thanful that
he was man. He expressed wonder
over the failure of the hay crop in
the early fall and was delighted that
Ao hol l@e I,
spoke contemptuously of the govern
ment for the small pay it gave its serv-
ants and he was delighted that his
horses were sure-footed.
The pipe listened. To Torscn's
mind it was better than a woman be-
cause it never talked back The smoke
wreaths curled up from it and float
ed back of the sledge in white rings.
A delicate aroma was left on the air
by which if the mail carrier had been
followed quickly he might have been
traced from Cub Creek to Blue
Duck.
The ponies kept their even pace and
the night worked it's way on. Hill
slopes, buffalo wallows, frozen water
courses, ranges, all were passed, and
still Torson smoked and dreamed.
Perhaps it was ten o'clock, and maybe
it was midnight, but Torson did not
care. His ponies were doing their
best. Sooner or later the lights OF
Blue Duck would come in sight. 1t
was good to think of Blue Duck, be-
cause the town meant his own bed
for him and nights rest under his
own roof. ...
Just then the ponies suddenly
swerved at the bottom of deep
wallow, and then sat down on
their launches as if some one had
grabbed them by the bride and
thrust them back. On the crest of
the east bank of the wallow stood a
man, in his hands rifle and by him
two horses and a sledge. They came
up so suddenly before the eyes of
Torson's ponies that they seemed
to have risen from the depths of the
snow. The rifle was pointed at Tor
sons breast and rough voice told
him to keep himself and his ponies
still. Then the voice said:
Throw out the mail, Torson."
Torson chung to his pipe. The
smoke still curled from it's bowl. He
was thinking of a great many things,
but he made no move to reach the
mail in the bottom of the sledge.
Again the voice ordered him to throw
it out and again the smoke curled
from the pipe. That second Whit
gave Torson new courage, new in
spiration as to what he should do.
He had been stupid for a moment,
but now he was awake. Still holding
the pipe between his lips he uttered
hoarse growl and the ponies UNDER
stood. They knew that Torson never
spoke as other men, because his pipe
was always between his lips. They
leaped forward, and with dash were
by the highwayman. The rifle spoke
| just as they sprang, and Torson felt
over his heart singing, sickening
blow, but he bravely held his pipe
and the reins and in very short
time was out of the reach of his as
| sailant.
Later in Blue Duck Torson took his
tobacco pouch from his neck, and
found that the bullet from the high
wayman's rifle had gone through it
and the tobacco, also into his heavy
coat and through his flannel but had
not broken the skin. Just above his
Il l. l.