The Kenna record. (Kenna, Roosevelt County, N.M.) 190?-1924, 1913-10-24

stood in the sunlight. Behind the
nearest tree a man was speaking.
refined my horse. Now you, Jones'"
he was saying to the injured beast,
you take yo'self too serious. You
amt goin' to Heaven? No! Then
why pack 20 bag7 Why fuss?"
had some silly idea that the man,
II he discovered me, would know what
business brought me to this headland.
held my breath.
His slow, delicious, Texan drawl
made me smile. l did not want to
smile. The mare, very picture OF
misery, lifted her bandaged. frightfully
swollen leg, and hobbled into the
shade. did not want to laugh. but
why was she called Jones? She
looked Just like Jones.
THE inquirin' mind" said the man
behind the tree, has GAVIN surely
astray from business. or you'd have
know'd that rattlers smells of snake.
Then asks-why paw"
The mare, with her legs all
astraddle, snorted in his face.
Sugar is it? Why didn't you say
so befo'?"
Jones turned her good eye on the
man as though she had just discovered
his existence, hobbled briskly after
him while he dug in his kitchen boxes,
made first grab at the sugar bag, and
got her face slapped. The man. always
with his eye upon the mare, returned
to his place, and sat on his heel as be-
fore. Three Jumps" he said, hold
ing them one by one to be snatched.
you're acting sort of convalescent,
Jones. No more sugar. And don't
be hawg!"
The mare was kissing his face.
Back of ALL Back water! Thar
now. thank the lady behind mel"
And l had imagined my presence
still unknown.
"How on EARTH" gasped. did you
know was here?"
The mans eyes were still intent
upon the wounded mare. Wall. Mrs.
Trevor" he drawled.
you know my name? Your back
has been turned the whole time!
You've never seen me in your life
at least I've never seen you'll"
That's So" he answered thought
fully. 81 don't need tellin' the sound
of that colt yo' husband bought from
me. AS to the squeak of lady's pig
skin saddle, thar amt no other lady
rider short of a hundred and eighty
three and half miles"
What manner of man could this be ?
My colt was drawing toward him all
the time as though a magnet pulled.
He stood facing me, the bag still In
his hand, and my colt asking pointed
ly for sugar Very tall, gaunt, deeply
tanned, perhaps twenty-five years OF
age, he seemed to me UNNECESSARILY
old, so deeply lined was his face. And
yet 1t was the face of one at peace.
had been away since daybreak, and
now the sun was entering the west
AS to my purpose, that felt could
wait.
So sat under the pines, pretending
to nurse Jones while the shadows
heightened over the tawny grass, and
orange needles decked fields of rock
out to the edge of the headland.
The man unsaddled my horse, I'M
loaded his ponies, fetched water from
the spring of natural Apollinaris. but
when, coming back, he found me light
ing fire, he begged me to desist, to
rest while he made dinner. And
was glad to rest, thinking about the
peace beyond the edge of the head
land Yet 1t was interesting to see
how a man keeps house in the wilder
ness, and how different are his ways
from those of woman. No housewife
could have been more daintily clean
or shown a swifter skill, or half the
silent ease with which this woodsman
made the tableware for one, enough
to serve two people. But a woman
would not clean a frying-pan by burn
ing 1t and throwing on cold water. He
sprinkled -four on a ground sheet
and made dough without wetting the
canvas. Would l like bread, or slap
jacks, or a pie7 He made a loaf Of
bread, In a frying pan set on edge
among glowing Goals, and, wondering
how pie could possibly happen with
out the assistance OF an oven, l forgot
all about that cliff.
The thing l had intended was {
crime, and conscience-stricken,
dreaded lest he should speak. could
not bear that. Already his camp wat
cleaned and in order, his pipe filled
and alight. at any moment he might
break the restful silence. That's why
l spoke, and at random, asking II he
were not from the United States.