The Montgomery advertiser., 1904-09-05
MRS. COTTLE'S ELOPEMENT
BY JOHN ALEXANDER BOYLE.

BY JOHN ALEXANDER BOfLE. l Copyright. 1904. by Daily Story Pup. l Col
 Christmas on Bald mountain never had been distinguished by any remark able degree of festivity, but Mrs. Cot | tie, standing in the cabin doorway and gazing out disconsolately over the | hills of redwood that rolled away to l the sea, reluctantly concluded that the morrow would be he most dismal or | any Christmas she had known. The | thought brought film of tears to | her eyes. She brushed them across her cheek hurriedly with the hem of calico apron and turned back into the | kitchen, whose rough board walls nad become the boundaries of her world. l Christmas was the one holiday in | the year to which she looked forward. | Bald mountain Is probably the most | beautiful and the loneliest spot in Cal l ifornia. For three years Mrs. Cottle had risen daily to take up her end 1 less round of household tasks and l looked across the virgin redwood for 1 ests that stretched away for twenty miles to the ocean, that lay white and
 shining on the horizon. Three years
 before on the day that the last turn In the road at the summit of the peak | revealed the beauties of the landscape | to her for the first time. Mrs. Cottle
 cried out in delight as the man beside
 her pointed out a tiny cabin nestling half afraid on the edge of a clearing beneath them.
 That's our home, Anna, my dear," he had said. How we'll she remember
 ed the tones of his voice and the firm, l tender pressure of his hand when she laid hers In 1t. How different now.
 Then she was a bride facing life | with a heart brimming with love. hope | and happiness. But three years had
 changed everything and the beautiful ridges of redwood that once gave her
 such delight had lost their charm. George Cottle was poor man mak- ing an ambitious struggle to rise above the hand-to-mouth existence
 most of his neighors lived. He put his heart into his work and was out | on his homestead claim from dawn un- til dark, while the little bride in the
 cabin tried bravely to hide her loneli-
 ness and disappointment even from
 herself. When her husband returned
 at night he was tired and often wor-
 ried. Bit by bit he neglected the ten der little attentions that meant so
 much to the wife who waited anxious ly through the long days. only to find another disappointment when the man | she loved returned at night.
 | He did not understand her unhappi- | ness or even know that she was un- happy, and thought she realized that
 the arduous tasks he set himself on l the homestead were daily tests of his | affection.
 | Then came the unprecedented winter l that almost beggared the ranchers and
 stockmen of Mendocino county. Snow | fell early in December. More fell on
 the 10th and by the 18th George Cot ties land lay hidden two feet beneath
 the hard snow crust. The stock
 trapsed in from the hills gaunt and hungry, and hogs with hollow sides and razor backs began to gather near the cabin. Cottle parceled out his scanty supply of grain to the stock charily. For the hogs he could do lit- | tie. Their food was the acorns and wild potaties that lay far out of reach beneath the snow. Forty miles of impossible roads lay between Bald mountain and Willits. the nearest
 town. The hogs began to die; then the cattle, and still there was no sign | of a thaw. George Cottle depended one his herds for his income, and in | the bitterness of his blasted hopes he | became harder. sterner. more taci-
 turn. His wife tried to comfort him.
 but misunderstood the harshness that was born of his disappointment and | SnTdnk away QulNeTllS Anu QdWn dI-
 ter dawn came without a thaw.
 Two days before Christmas Mrs. Cottle laid her hand on her husbands shoulder as he gulped his breakfast. George, dear" she said MT. Smith | all writes that there Is to be a dance at their place on Christmas Eve. Let's go and forget our troubles in real | jolly Christmas"
 Dance. Christmas. Theren be no I lor eI,1 l year. We have our work here. with
 the hogs dying a dozen a day" he an
 swered with a harsh attempt at l laugh.
 1 Her lip quivered as she turned to-
 ward him, but his downcast eyes saw
 nothing.
 "Oh. George. think" she protested. | tremblingly, T, I haven't seen soul
 but you and Mir Osborn since the Shells were here eight months ago. | I haven't been away from the peak
 for over fifteen months. You can't l help the hogs and cattle by being here. 1 Please let's go, just for that one night | Christmas Eve"
 Are you so tired of me and your
 home?" he asked. irritably. Home is
 the place for us, and that's where we'll stay. Do you think l want to dance while the bones of half my herd 1 dIC lS lllS out tIcIe III tue lp"tI CitdT-
 ing?' He pushed back his chair and
 went out.
 Mrs. Cottle didn't cry. The hurt
 was too deep and her disappointment l too bitter to be relieved by tears. In a life composed so entirely Of com
 monplaccs as was hers, small things assume a terribly exaggerated impor-
 tance, and the loss of the hope upon
 which she had buoyed herself for months was too great a blow She was only child. notwithstanding her ! twenty years
 ! On the afternoon before Christmas i George Cottle. far down in the for 1 est. met Chris Nelson, his nearest neighbor, whose cabin was eight miles away Both men were rounding up starving hogs. There was the usual exchange of civilities, the possibility 1 of thaw and a recounting of the losses each had suffered.
 Bad winter all round, George" said Nelson. T never see a wus 'un." | Costle was silent
 l "Aad 1t aint only hogs and cattle