The Wolf Point herald. (Wolf Point, Mont.) 1913-1940, 1922-02-23

| can reach, L says, Hello, Harry
or Jim or whichever one it happens
to be. What kin l do for you today?'
an the mug. he frisks the tourists,
and mebbe asks to have his mail
throwed off, and that's all there is
to it. Me, 1 amt no hero, and l
always figgers that it's a dang sight
better to keep drivin' bosses than
to be planted out here with the wind
BLOWN through a lot OF forty-five
holes in my carcass, so | throws off
the mail, and we goes on our way
rejoicin', all except a few fool toorists
that hain't got no sense of humor,
and them grouchin' around a lot
makes all the entertainment we gets
in them days.
"Injuns, that's different agin.
They amt satisfied with watches and
jewelry, them not havin' no place to
wear it. / see two Sioux bucks onct
usin' a $500 diamond studded watch
for a target, them havin' it tied to
the limb of a tree and shootin' the
works out. They can't read, so they
don't want no mail. They wants
bosses, and when they cuts into my
outfit l knows I'm due for a long
walk. They're mostly friendly In
juns, and they make signs that I'm
stuck up, mostly by shootin' through
my hat, and for me to hike towards
home, and l hikes, which sometimes
is north and sometimes south, accord
in to how far l am from the post.
but them amt nothin' to COM
plain about, Injuns and road agents.
| figure they're just natural sequen-
ces of the business, like devorce fol-
lows matrimony, and the easier you
takes them, the more likely you are
to be happy. 1t don't make any diff
ference what kind of misfortune you
git, if you make up your mind not
to worry about them and put three
or six good drinks under your belt,
you amt got no more trouble than
a rabbit"
A Regular Winter
What gifts my goat though, is
storms. Storms is hell out this way,
and one time I'm bringin' in a bunch
of toorists, them bein' mostly VIM
men. which they're contrary and hard
to handle, and axes a lot of fool
questions; and she comes a snow
to beat hell-and it SHOWS out
here, son, it SHOWS plenty. In five
minutes after this storm comes up
we amt got even a trail to go by,
and it gifts dark, dark and cold. It's
dark that a black boss looks like
a sheep, and so cold that the wheels
screech so you kin hear them a mile.
1t amt no use to wear out the stock,
cause you can't git no place
when it's like that. Like as not you
come back to where you start, and
so l banks the wagon as close as |
kin in a ~coulee, unhitches the bosses
SOS they kin tail to the wind, an we
all roosts inside the stage tryin' to
keep warm, which a stage amt no hot
house when it's forty below, an you
got a pack of wimmen toorists inside
nothin' to drink.
Come daylight, them toorists is
froze, and me, / can't find the
losses, and them damn toorists COM
plain a lot, figurin' that I'm response
Bile for the cold, and wonderin' why
didn't I tie up the bosses, them bein'
that ignerent they don't savvy HOSES
But that amt the best of it.
I'm projectin' around froze and stiff
ike a man with two wooden legs,
xnowin' that the bosses ought to be
pretty close, and l see what looks like
/ fence on top of the coulee, and
hey's a wisp of smoke curlin' over it,
nd figurin' that where they's smoke
hey ought to be fire, | climbs up,
nd damned if we amt camped out
ii night less'n a hundred feet from
Id man Siefert's ranch house, and
Id man Siefert's got booze and bacon
nd fire to throw to the birds. That's
no time 7 see tourists friendly with
iooze and common folks. They
rink out of a tin cup and eat with
heir fingers, and after I'm feedin'
bosses Chem hayin' better sense
han me and not missin' Siefert's
arm l have a hell of a time breakin'
he bunch away from the fire and
them to the railroad where
hey belong"