The Bon Homme County independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1904-1913, 1909-04-22
CHAPTER VIII.

THE FIRING OF HELLER'S CABIN
On the night of the ninth OF April
there swirled over the Seven Mountains
a wild whisk of snow that plastered
tho landscape as with whitewash. Five
inches deep 1t lay and hung and stuck.
Every flake chung where 1t fell, and in
the morning the world was a study in
white-a fiuff of cloud above, like a
fleece over the hills held up by the
ridges, and a smudge OF snow beneath,
that concealed every colour and OUT
line. 1t was like q world in q dream.
Every twig was a main branch, every
thread a cable, every fence rail a saw
log. Saplings and branches bowed to
the earth beneath festoons more gor-
day and a night the Seven Mountains
were a realm beyond the dreams of
fairyland. Then the sun came out.
Tom Farthing saw the beauty OF this
morning and thought of bears, for Tom
was a hunter, and the morning was one
Of a thousand. II the clouds did not
break, letting out the sun, he felt sure
Of a bear, provided one a moved dur
ing the night. Therefore Tom was up
In the Gap before Ave, making for the
Wild Meadows. At six he was on the
summit of Raccoon Ridge, looking to-
ward the north, where the meadows
lay smooth and white among the welter
OF the hills like an oil spot at sea.
Eager as he was, he paused and
swept his eyes about the horizon. For
a moment the poet in the man domi-
mated the hunter. 1t was like a frost
picture on a mighty window. At his
feet, in the direction from which he had
come, lay the V-like trough OF Plum
Run, then Heller's Ridge with It's sud-
den gap. then the dead level OF Hell
Bottom with every trace Of man
smoothed out. then the fog. On every
| side a wild, chaotic world without coll
our or sharp angle, Enthusiastically be-
ruffied with the snow.
He paused but a moment, then he
plunged over the ridge-crest down to-
wards the meadows, stumbling into pit
falls, tripping over stones and brush.
and ~drenching himself through and
through with the sno from the low
shrubbery. At seven he entered the
rh~ododendron slough known as the
Wild Meadows. . (
The detail of Toms day do not con-
Germ this tale. He killed no bears,
| though he tramped far; but late in the
afternoon he found himself
ly hungry, wet to the skin. tired as q
young fellow of 20 ever gets, down on
Roaring Run Just where It is Joined
by the Plum Run stream. From this
| point there are two way of reaching
Heller's Gap; n up through the rough
| bottom between RaccoonN and Roaring
| Ridges-a rocky hole with q brush snarl
like a barbed wire tangle, and the other
through the jaws of Roaring Run and
| out to the Hell Bottom pike.
With the smear Of greas snow over
brush and rocks. Plum Run was out OF
tho question, and the longer route
| through the gar was well nigh so.
| Even in summer, when the green slime
is dry on the rocks and when the wa
tiers that so snarling down the gut
are low and harmless, 1t is a hard climb
to follow the blind trail along the face
of the precipice. For the space of sew
eral rods one must cling and balance
and choose his footing with care and
a misstep when the run in spring is
a wild torrent Is not pleasant to think
of, SO" ~
But Tom did not hesitate. He bucklec
his rife tightly to his back, pulled his
cap low over his ears, and Ave minutes
later stood. hot and painting, among the
rocks Of Poppy Miller's farm. He kicked
the snow from q projection and sal
down..
Suddenly, behind the rock masse,
along the brook, he heard q splash
days hunt strong upon him, he sprans
to his feet and, with gun at full cock
crept noiselessly through the snow. AL.
most double he inched along, ther
raised himself silently over the crest
of the rock. An instant, and he drew
back as II he had come full upon
RATHER.
(ContiRued Make Weekl