Evening star., 1907-11-17

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his head between his legs. Twice Rubes rope fell
upon his withers, and then the painted one made
straight rush at the drift which had penned him
and his band. Astonished, the cowmen saw the
light footed Comanche mount, leap after leap going
belly deep at each jump, and in the instant
made to understand that the wild fellow had
mained prisoner, not upon compulsion, but to
protect the weaker ones.
With yell Rube followed the unging horse
taking his course along the burrowed path which
gave him the advantage OF almost solid footing In
few seconds he had overhauled the plungng pony
and cast his rope which fell fairly the wild ones
head Then there a wrench as if the
had been tackled in a football game and Rube the
Ready went headlong into the drifts He clung to
his rope with the tenacty of fshhook after a
strike. In no time the ridge of the slide reached
and the descent began. And the Painted
Comanche had things his own way, and There
seems no other way than to let Rube tell his
story, which. after days of convalescence, sit
ting up in his bunk and being fortified with liberal
allowance of mountain dew, he did:
A Heartrendine Narrative
WHEN my hosshair hit the Comanche and stuck
w says Wow! I've got hm' and l struck the
drift head on as cheerful as salmon goin over
ten-foot rifle. l didn't mind ben used for
plow not even when the trickle inside my shirt
my boots Thinks l. he'll shore tire out soon, and
I'm havin' the slide of my life. and so, with my
eyes, nose. and plugged, and spittn snowballs
out of my lungs, and with my jug'lar veins pumpin
Il had my lariat double length, as how Pete
and lowed to tangle the Comanche plenty
and was hangin' on about the middle. Chinook
wind BLOWN that side of the noun
tain, and dropped down in ffty-foot jumps
started snowballs that rolled down as
big as balloons and chased after was alowin
to let go and scoot sure enough when we struck the
bottom but nigh to the bed of the canon there
drop in the mountain, and the slide havin reached
the edge seemed to come to the limit Well,
bowled over that pitch and hit space for about
hundred feet and struck fortunate into dig drift
at the bottom. l lit on top of the Comanche and
mixed with his legs, when his hind feet
Strengthened, and went up in the air.
II was rolled up and knotted in my own hoss-
hair. But wasn't buried-not any for the
Comanche He made some leaps down the canon
while mountains of snow piles up on the hole where
we'd struck Talk about jack rabbits and antelopes
Comanche And about bein' fired out of cannon!
l know jest the feelin's would git. tin
to dog tail would be hutterin rag to the way
l jerked down that canon. The Comanche
went about a mile minute. When he broke in
occasional, smashing the crust was gathered into
a ball of yarn and sung promscuous in front. There
lay innocent and helpless till the critter dug him
self out
Il was gittin' right hilarious when the end come.
The Comanche wasn't goin fast enough, and l was
slope where the drifts had stuck. We hit cone
of snow that come out of the mountain fifty feet
thick, and the Comanche made hole in it while
l performed the usual sky scrapn jump.
Then it occurred to me casual that havin one
free hand might unwind myself. In two three
minutes I unroped and lyin' calm and
placid on my back, contemplatin' the bumps of
Drumhead vsitin' with the clouds. l heard the
Comanche finally dig himself out and 60 off on tother
side of the drift And then froze Sleep and woke
to find Washoe Pete budin' fires around my
mains"
The Painted Comanche alone of his band sur