That is exactly what happened upon this occasion and most of Louise’s visit was spent in shovelling snow for the pure joy of the exercise. That energetic young person had to do something in lieu of tennis or golf.
The prairies were covered with a fluffy mantle of purest white, great drifts filled the gulches and the roads were utterly obliterated. Long after the storm the men had to go about on horseback for no wagon could be moved through the deep snow.
At this juncture Louise announced that she had all of her reservations through to Baltimore, where she was to officiate as bridesmaid. She was obliged to go and we had to take her to the railroad.
We could scarcely go on horseback with baggage, there wasn’t a sleigh in the country, certainly none on the ranch, but if Necessity was the Mother of Invention, Owen was a near relative. He never failed to find some way of meeting the most difficult problem. If Louise must go it devolved upon him to see that she reached the station and so he produced a sled, a disreputable old affair, used for the exalted purpose of hauling dead animals to “the dump”—but still it was a sled and under Owen’s direction it was scrubbed and transformed into the most luxurious equipage by having a packing box nailed on the back and covered with rugs. Louise and I perched on the box, with heavy robes tucked in about us, the suit cases were at our feet and Owen sat on the trunk in front to drive.
There was only one draw-back, the sled had no tongue to keep it from running on to the heels of the horses, so Owen cut a hole in the bottom of the sled through which he stuck a broom-stick. My task was to work this improvised brake when we went down hill by jabbing the broom-stick into the snow. It worked beautifully except that the friction against the hard snow broke pieces of it off and it grew perceptibly shorter as we advanced.
In order to avoid some especially deep gulches we left the valley and followed a high ridge. It was much longer, but we had allowed the entire day for the trip. There was no danger of becoming lost as long as we could see, for we knew too well the country and the general direction to be followed.
No incident marred the joy of that day. When the horses floundered and almost disappeared from sight in a snow-filled gulch, leaving the sled stranded like an Ark on a gleaming Ararat, we had only to dig the horses out with a shovel which had been taken for the purpose and after getting them on the level ground, go back and hitch a long rope to the sled, draw it across the gulch and proceed upon our way.
The light of the sun upon the snow was so intense it was necessary to wear colored glasses to avoid snow blindness, and being muffled in furs, we looked like three bears in goggles. Our wraps kept us perfectly warm and it was a merry ride. The adventure filled us with joy as we glided over the trackless world in which we alone moved.
There was no suggestion of dreariness or desolation in the scene. Under the magic touch of the sun the world burst forth into a miracle of glory and beauty which held us spellbound. The sky was cloudless, not a shadow fell across that dazzling white expanse, which flashed and sparkled with all the prismatic colors. Far to the west Pike’s Peak stood, a marvel of varying lights and shadows, its head resting on the soft blue bosom of the sky. Its commanding height had filled the Indian of the Plains with worshipful awe, it was to him “the Gate of Heaven, the abiding place of the Great Spirit.” According to his own testimony, the one inevitable duty in the life of the Indian is the duty of prayer—and how often as he looked upon that distant mountain must the red hunter have paused in the midst of the vast prairies, his soul uplifted and an unspoken prayer on his lips!
The whole aspect of the country was changed, all the familiar landmarks were gone. Except for the hills, the surface of the prairie was perfectly level as though the Great Spirit had stretched his hand forth from that mystic mountain and passing it over the world had left it smooth and stainless.