Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1916-05-10

Mike was born in Huntington,
Mass, in 1866. AS boy he was pro-
foundry disinterested in books. He
knew which was the prettiest girl in
school, and which boy had the best
jackknife, and such items of inform
alton, but he rarely knew his lessons.
At ten he could read and write and
cipher, and while his knowledge en-
braced other things-such as the
shape OF the earth and the names OF
the presidents - these later items
were, he thought, largely decorative
and unnecessary. He never ran
away from school, but had truant
mind. 1t generally rode pony and
INDUCED in the pleasure Of roping
steers and shooting Indians. He
wanted to be cowboy. He had read
all about it in a paper.
His mother died when he was ten.
That set him free. He went West
with the definite purpose OF becoming
a rich cattleman. He was big and
strong for his age.
When he was fourteen he got job
as cattle herder in Yellow Medicine
County, Minnesota. They gave him a
good pony and herd of five hundred
cattle. He knew lot about cattle
and the arts OF the cowboy. He
bought big revolver on credit at the
herder's store and went to his task.
At first he thought it was great fun.
The prairies lay fiat and green till
they seemed to touch the rounded
dome of the sky. For a week or so
they interested him. But he was all
alone with his herd on that vast floor
of the heavens. 1t was like great
silent room. He felt very small and
lonely there. Sundry little animals
lived beneath, like rats in cellar,
but they would have nothing to do
with him. They seemed to distrust
his character and demand references.
Winds hurried by, kissing in the tall
grass, and birds rode upon them.
These were his only companions
these and the cattle-save when ne
went to the store for supplies, and
then he was always in hurry.
Now cattle-even five hundred cat
tie and a revolver are poor company
for a human being. Mike grew weary
of them. He did brave deeds. His
devotion to duty had been quite he
roic one day when the herd took to
flight in a storm, but there had been
nobody to see and applaud him. He
was homesick but too faithful to des
ert his task. The whistle of locomo
tives came family to his ear now and
then from a four-league journey thru
the air, and seemed to be calling him
The herd drifted back and forth thru
q range some ten miles in diameter
and there were three rude shacks il
which he lived.
1ucI<ing the Billiards Of the Eighties
1t was probably good for Mike. 1,
gave him an excellent chance to en-
large his acquaintance with himself
He began to explore his own mind 1t
seemed to be about as empty as the
sky. He found there the list of the
presidents and the multiplication
table, and such simple furniture. He
tried to interest himself by looking
them over He reminded himself of
the proportions Of land and water and
the shape of the world, but as an en-
tertainer Mike decided that he was
no good. If he had only known the
Declaration of Independence it would
have been a great comfort to him,
have no doubt. He saw that he didn't
know enough to be good company
October came, and cold winds out OF
the north, and time dragged as the
end of his solitary confinement drew
near. He got rid of his charge on the
fourth of December.
Candy was the business center fol-
the farmers whose stock he had herd
ed. There he received his pay. Two
farmers had driven to the little vii
lage that afternoon in a lumber wag
on Mike was to ride with them to a
farm where he had left his pony, six
miles away. He held their team in
the cold wind while the two men were
having a good time. Mike had sat fol
hours i'm the wagon. He and the hors
es were chilled to the bone. But men
do not worry about boys and horses
when they are having good time
They are too busy. 1t was growing
dusk. The horses had begun to rear
and plunge. Mike shouted for help
The men buttoned their overcoats
hurried out, quieted the horses and
took the spring seat in the wagon
Mike was only a boy. He sat cramp
ed on a shoe box behind them.
The winter Of the great SHOWS had
arrived-the winter of 1880. The old
settlers have never ceased to- talk
about it. The storms came like a
resistless army, spreading their white
tents on the roofs of other tents, un'
til Minnesota was buried to the tops
of its telegraph poles. The lumber
wagon and its party was going out