The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1925-12-25
Eight for a Woman2 HI! IL Twas
tn Horse Now"

tn Horse Now"
1t was s%pringtime in the Deep Heart
country. On the broad slopes, the
towering slants of the hills themselves,
the conifers sang their everlasting
monotone, turned by the little winds
from the south.
Great canyons cut the ridges, dark
and mysterious, murmuring with snow
water, painted Enthusiastically in the reds
and browns and yellows Of their
weathered tone.
But in the sweet valleys that ran
like playful fingers all ways among the
hills, where lay tender grass of a
laughing brightness, flowers nodded
thick in the drowsy meadows. 1t was
a lonesome land, set far from civiliza-
tion, but beautiful withaI, serene, ST.
lent, wild with crag and peak and
precipice.
Deer browsed in its sheltered places,
a few timber wolves preyed on them,
while here and there a panther
screamed to the stars at night.
For many years a pair of golden
eagles had reared their young on the
beetling escarpment that crowned Mys-
terry ridge.
1t was a rich land, too, for many
cattle ran on its timbered slants and
grew sleek and fat for fall along the
reaches of the river.
On a day when all the world seemed
basking in the tempered sun, a horse
and rider came down along the slopes
heading toward the west. On the
broad background of this primeval set
ting they made a striking picture, one
to arrest the eye, for both were re-
markable. OF the two, perhaps the
horse would first have caught the at
tention Of an observer, owing to it's
great stature and its shining mouse
blue coat.
Far off, also, the prideful grace of
its carriage, the lightness, the AFRO
gance of it's step, would have been no.
ticeable. But as they drew near, one
looked instinctively to see what man.
ner of rider bestrode so splendid a fell
low, and was not disappointed-for the
rider was a woman.
She was a gallant woman, If one
could so describe her, not large but
built with such nicely of line, of pro-
portion, as best to show off the spirit
In her-and that was a thing which
might not be described. Under her
sombrero, worn low on her brow and
level, one got the seeming of darkness
shot with fire-the black eyes and bit
Of dusky hair above cheeks brightly
flushed. She rode at ease, her gaunt-
her reins swinging. A blue flannel
shirt, gay with pearl buttons, lay open
at the throat and bloused a trife above
q broad leather belt, we'll worn and
studded with nickel spots. A divided
skirt of dark leather, precisely fitted
and deeply fringed at the bottom, con
cealed the tops of high laced boots. All
her clothing ~betokened especial make,
and very thorough wear.
AS the blue horse sided expertly
down the slope a loose stone turned
under his shod hoof, causing him to
stumble eve so slightly, though be
caught himself instantly.
AS instantly the woman's spurred
heel struck his flank, her swift tighten
ing of the rein anticipated his resultant
start.
"Pick up your feet, you'll" she said
sharply. frowning.
The stallion did pick up his feet, for
he was intelligent, but he shook his
proud head, laid his ears back on his
neck, and the sweat started on his sem
sitive skin at the needless rake of the
spur. The great dark eyes in his gray
blue face shone for a time like fox
fire in the dark, twin sparks beneath
the light Of his tossing silver forelock.
He chose his footing more care
fully, though he was an artist in hill
climbing at all times, for the woman
on his back was a hard taskmaster.
Caught as a colt in the high meadows
of the Upper Country beyond Deep
Heart hills. the horse had served her
faithfully for four of his seven years
of life, and hated her sullenly. There
was mixed blood in his veins-wild,
from the slim white mother who had
never felt a rope; patrician. gentle,
tractable, from the thoroughbred black
father lost from a horse-trader's string
eleven years back and sought for
many bootless Moons because of bis
great value.
Swayed by the instincts of these two