A STRANGER IN THE LAND.
Being a stranger in the valley and anxious to become acquainted with the people, I saddled my horse to go to the crossing. It was one day last month, and, not being accustomed to Montana winters, I soon discovered that I was not wrapped sufficiently to stand such polar storms. Coming to a house where lived a German family, I asked if I could borrow a scarf or something to cover my ears; with the heart of a liberal soul the German told me to come in, and handed me a shawl.
“Rather cold day,” said I.
“Fery cold; it is durty-dree pelow zero, and I have no beer to give a stranger; des am awful country,” said he.
I made a new start, feeling very comfortable, and determined to speak to every one I met, and I did not expect to meet many but strangers, for Mr. H. and family were the only ones I knew in the neighborhood. As I was passing the next house, near the road there was a man repairing a gate, with a fur cap pulled over his ears.
“Good morning,” said I, and he nodded. Stopping my horse, I asked:
“Do you think that it is going to storm?”
“Hey,” said the man at the gate.
“Do you think this cold weather is going to last much longer?”
“What you say?” asked he.
I was getting discouraged, but as a last resort I asked in a loud tone:
“Do you think I had better go?”
“I go tomorrow,” he answered.
Giving my horse the spur, I caught up with an old freighter; he said that he was making regular trips between Sun River and Fort Benton. I remarked that it was rather cold weather for freighting.
“Oh, this is nothing,” he exclaimed; “in ’63 I wintered on Snake river, and when I unyoked the cattle I had to drive a wedge between the two oxen to get them apart, and at the camp fire I had a long stick holding my coffeepot in the flames to boil, and it turned cold so sudden that I had to let go of the stick and rub my nose, being afraid I was going to freeze it. I ran in the wagon and went to bed without any supper, and when I got up the next morning the smoke stood like the trunk of an old dead tree, and the coffeepot was still in the flames, frozen stiff to the ground; breathing the cold blast that very night it froze all my teeth, and as I was getting up that morning they dropped out of my mouth like corn from a patent corn sheller.”
When he told of freezing his teeth I believed him, for he had not a tooth in his head. I thought I would not say a word to anyone about cold weather again, and I gave my horse the rein.
Arriving near a large white house to the left of the road, I noticed smoke coming from the chimney, as if there was a good fire. Tying my horse to the fence, I went to the door and knocked; a man opened it, and asked me to come in and get warm. He went out to split some wood, and, while rubbing my hands before the red hot stove, I noticed milk pans, churn, etc., and this convinced me that it was a milk ranch. Soon he came in with some dry wood, and his wife came in from the pantry.
“Can I get a glass of milk to drink,” I asked him.
“I don’t know, ask the old woman,” said he.
“Yes,” said she, “of course you can.”
While drinking it, I asked him again:
“Do you think we are going to have another snow storm?”
“Well, I really don’t know. Ask the old woman, she can tell.”
“I think we are going to get one right away,” said she.
“Are you going to the debate tonight?”
“Well, I really don’t know. Ask the old woman, she can tell you.”
“I don’t think we shall,” said she.
Again I asked: “How many of your cattle have died this winter?”
“Well, I really don’t know. Ask the old woman, she knows.”
“About half of what we had,” she replied.
Just then a troop of boys came running into the room. “Are these your boys?” said I.
“Don’t know. Ask the old woman, she knows.”
I did not wait to hear her reply. I said I wanted to be at the crossing before the Benton coach arrived and I put on my hat and walked out. Half a mile further I met two school girls, a big and a bigger one, and they looked as if they were very cold. I said very politely: “Young ladies, I will lend you this shawl; and you can return it to Mr. Steell’s store whenever convenient.”
“Humph!” replied the biggest girl, “I wouldn’t be found dead in the woods with that shawl on.”
“I wouldn’t either,” said I, and I went on. Soon I was at Mr. H.’s house, which is near the road, and as I had an invitation from the hotelkeeper to attend a ball on the 22d, I thought I would call and ask Miss Annie to go to the ball with me. I met the old gentleman at the corner of the house.
“Good evening, Mr. H.,” said I.
“Good evening, Mr. S.,” said he.
“Is Miss Annie at home?”
“Is she engaged?”
“Is it engaged, ye say, sir? Faith, an’ I can’t tell ye, sir, but she kissed Mr. Maguire last evening as if she had not seen the loikes ov him, an’ it’s engaged I believed they are, sir.”
Just then there was a man going by on the road, and I said that I wanted to speak to him, and I ran through the gate, but I did not want to speak to anyone at that moment.
I came on, and at the bridge I noticed a sign, “Whoop Up.” I could not imagine what it meant. Thinking it was a menagerie, I entered. A man with a bloody nose met me at the door, and another stood in the opposite corner with a black eye, and both were panting as if exhausted.
“Who owns this place,” I asked the man with the bloody nose.
“A man in Fort Benton owns it, but if you want to know who runs it, just wait a few minutes until we have one more round to decide the question.”
But I left in about as much of a hurry as ever. I crossed the bridge, tied my horse to the hitching post back of the store, and went up the street. It was growing dark and I was getting discouraged. Passing a saloon, I heard some loud voices. One man was saying that modern spiritualism was a humbug, while another argued that it was the greatest wonder of the age. At one end of the counter there was cheese, crackers, herring, etc. Seeing all the fellows helping themselves, I came to the conclusion that it was a free lunch. I commenced eating, and kept on until I almost made out my supper, when the barkeeper walked up to me, saying:
“See here, stranger; those eating here are expected to take a drink.”
“I eat for my health; I always take a drink after I eat,” I said.
A while afterwards, as the barkeeper leaned on the counter, I said: “Now I will take a drink.”
“What will you have, sir,” said he.
“Water,” said I.
I saw him reach for something, and as I passed through the door—bang came a chair at my heels. I ran for my horse (a beautiful chestnut, with long mane and tail), but alas! he was not to be found. Where I had hitched mine there was a bob-tailed horse, surrounded by a band of starving cattle. I hurried to the other side of the store, looking for my nag, expecting every minute to see the barkeeper after me with a shotgun. I jumped over two or three poor cows. The second time I came in front of the bob-tailed horse, and, to my surprise, discovered that it was mine. The starving cattle had eaten his tail, and as I came upon my venerable steed they were chewing the saddle, of which nothing was left but the tree and a few buckles. I mounted the remains and left the town.
Stranger.
Sun River, Mont., Feb. 18, 1880.
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The River Press has been published ever since, and is one of the brightest newspapers in the state; its subscription list is now a thousand fold larger than it was then. Great changes have taken place in the Sun river valley since “Stranger” made that trip. A few have left for other parts; many are still on the old camping ground that was then almost a barren desert, but now highly cultivated and decorated with trees and shrubs as beautiful as many of the eastern homes. The old freighter, the man at the gate, the good mother at the milk ranch and one of the school girls, and my old friend, Mr. H., have left what was then a new settlement, and have crossed the great divide and settled in the “New Jerusalem,” where all good people go and live forever.
Robert Vaughn.
May 20, 1899.