The Morris County chronicle., 1903-11-20
CHAPTER /
THE FOOTHILLS COUNTRY.


out in vast level reaches. and then be-
gin to climb over softly rounded
mounds that ever grow higher and
sharper till, here and there, they break
into jagged points and at last rest upon
the great bases of the mighty noun
tains. These rounded hills that join
the prairies to the mountains form the
foothill country. They extend for
about a hundred miles only, but no
other hundred miles of the great west
are so full OF interest and romance.
The natural features of the country
combine the beauties of prairie and of
mountain scenery. There are valleys
so wide that the farther side melts into
the horizon, and uplands so vast as
to suggest the unbroken prairie. Nearer
the mountains the valleys dip deep and
ever deeper till they narrow into can
yons through which mountain torrents
pour their blue gray waters from
glaciers that lie glistening between the
white peaks far away.
Here are the great ranges on which
feed herds of cattle and horses Here
are the homes of the ranchmen, in
whose wild, free, lonely existence there
mingles much of the tragedy and
comedy, the humor and pathos, that so
to make up the romance of life. Among
them are to be found the most enter
prising, the most daring, of the peoples
of the old lands. The broken, the out
cast, the disappointed-these too have
found their way to the ranches among
| the foothills. A country it is whose
sunlit hills and shaded valleys reflect
| themselves in the lives of its people.
for nowhere are the contrasts of light
and shade more vividly seen than in
| the homes of the ranchmen of the AL
! bertas.
The experiences of my life have con-
| firmed in me the orthodox conviction
that Providence sends his rain upon
the evil as upon the good; else should
never have set my eyes upon the foot
hill country, nor touched its fascinating
| life, nor come to know and love the
most striking man of all that group Of
striking men of the foothill country
the dear old Pilot, as we came to call
him long afterward. My first year in
college closed in gloom. My guardian
was in despair. From this distance
of years pity him. Then l considered
him unnecessarily concerned about me
ia fussy old hen," as one of the boys
suggested. The invitation from Jack
Dale, distant cousin, to spend a sum-
mer with him on his ranch in south
Alberta came in the nick of time.
| - 1ioV1 ttat tod
long, but no other solution of the prob
lem of my disposal offering, he finally
agreed that l could not well get into
more trouble by going than by staying
Hence it was that, in the early sum-
mer of one of the eighties, | found my
self attached to Hudson Bay COM
pany freight train, making our way
from a little railway town in Montana
toward the Canadian boundary.
Our train consisted of six wagons
and fourteen yoke of oxen, with three
cayuses, in charge of French half
breed and his son, a lad of about six
teen We made slow enough progress,
but every hour of the long day, from
the dim, gray, misty light of dawn to
the soft glow of shadowy evening, was
full of new delights to me. On the
evening of the third day we reached
the line Stopping Place, where Jack
Dale met us. l remember well how my
heart beat with admiration of the
easy grace with which he sailed down
upon us in the loose jointed cowboy
style, swinging his own bronco and
the little cayuse he was leading for me
into the circle of the wagons, careless
of ropes and freight and other inn
pedimenta. He flung himself off before
his bronco had come to a stop and gave
me a grip that made me sure of my
welcome. 1t was years since he had
seen man from home. and the eager
| joy in his eyes told of long days and
nights of lonely yearning for the old
days and the old faces.
came to understand this better aft
er my two years stay among these
hills that have a strange power on
some days to waken in a man longings
that make his heart grow sick When
supper was over we gathered about the
little fire while Jack and the half
breed smoked and talked. | lay on my
back looking up at the pale, steady
stars in the deep blue of the cloudless
sky and listened in fullness of con
tented delight to the chat between Jack
and the driver Now and then asked
Il question. but not too often, 1t is a
listening silence that draws tales from
western man, not veXing questions.
This much had learned already from
my three days travel. So | lay and
listened, and the tales of that night are
mingled with the warm evening lights
and the pale stars and the thoughts of
home that Jacks coming seemed to
bring.
Next morning before sunup we had
broken camp and We're ready for our
fifty mile ride. There was a slight driz.
zle of rain and, though rain and shine
We're alike to him. Jack insisted that
should wear my macintosh. This gar
. ment was quite new and had loose
cape which rustled as | moved toward
my cayuse. He was an ugly looking
little animal, with more white in his
eye than cared to see. Altogether
did not draw toward him. Nor did he
to me. apparently. For us took him
by the bride he snorted and sidled
about with great swiftness and stood
facing me with his feet planted firmly
in front of him as if prepared TO re-
ject overtures of any kind soever. !
tried to approach him with soothing
words but he persistently backed away