Buffalo Roost: A Story of a Young Men's Christian Association Boys' Department

by Frank H. Cheley

"After we had had breakfast, we made us crude snowshoes from the ends of grocery boxes, which we fastened to our feet with strings. Our shoes became hard when they dried, and it was only after painful effort that we got them on at all. We took the piece of ham, cooked the grease from it, and with this oiled our shoes as best we could. Traveling was very slow, for we were weak and sick, so it was nearly evening before we reached Manitou. There we met several rescue parties just starting to find us. I can shut my eyes and see them now. Some carried blankets and some food. Mr. Allen had a big red sweater on his arm and a coil of heavy rope hung from his shoulder. Old Ben was there, too, for they had sent word to him at Bruin Inn, inquiring if we were there, and when he found out we were lost he insisted on joining the rescue party. In fact, it was he that suggested that we had probably gone up Pike's Peak. Ben and I have always been great friends ever since.

"We held out some way till we reached home, then we all three gave up. O, the awful sickness that followed and the pain of frozen feet! I was in bed nearly a month, and every time I slept I dreamed of that awful night. I came very near slipping off this earth then. Of course the newspapers made fools of us and all the fellows teased us nearly beyond endurance. It was only a few weeks later that an immense mountain lion was shot near the cabin on the carriage road. There you are, you have my story, now let's forget it."

Not a fellow moved. They all sat looking intently into the dying fire. After a few minutes Mr. Allen suggested a sleep, and before long the camp was quiet, each camper wrapped in his blanket and stretched full length on the ground.

* * * * *

Very early the next morning the transportation of equipment was begun. The entire party went over to Fairview to bring the first load of tin dishes, plates, cups, knives, forks and spoons, kettles, pots, frying-pans, sugar cans—and so the list went on. The old shelves were removed from the blind end of the cabin and placed near the window in the other end. These were to serve as pantry shelves in the kitchen corner.

After breakfast was over one group returned to the car for another load, while Ham, with a helper, pushed forward the construction of the aerial bunk. The queer old shakedown was torn to pieces and the poles used for Ham's bed, the rest of it was shoved out of the back door and set afire. On this load the stove came, two fellows supporting it on the pack-saddle of old Peanuts. It was set up near the window and a work table built at the end of it. Another set of shelves was made for the pantry, and soon all was in readiness at that end of the house. The old grub box was converted into a bread box, and the little old stove was set back in an out-of-the-way corner. It was, indeed, the passing of the old to give place to the new.

Tuberculosis seemed to enter completely into the spirit of the new, for he had walked calmly back and forth over the shaky old bridge which crossed the stream with load after load of shingles and sacks of cement and a thousand other things that were to have a place in the cabin. There were windows and a heavy pine door for the new room. There were axes and saws and hammers. There were buckets and lanterns and iron bars to put over the windows, and stove-pipe for the kitchen stove. Then, too, there was a grand old crane for the fireplace and the frame for a wire screen to keep the flying brands on the hearth. Not a thing that would be needed had been forgotten. It was a weary crowd of fellows that came slowly along the trail at noon with the last load of boards, hung on the sides of Peanuts' saddle, the nails and hardware, packed in heavy canvas bags, loaded on Tuberculosis.

The aerial bunk was all completed before dinner time, except thatching it with balsam boughs, and all hands would help at that after the noon meal. Mr. Allen prepared the meal, and it was a real camp dinner. Could fellows ever have been so hungry before?

In the afternoon the rest of the old back veranda was demolished and cleared away. A large number of great, tall aspens, the choice of the grove, were cut, trimmed, and dragged in, in readiness for the new structure. It seemed that all the jays for miles around and all the squirrels in the valley came to investigate when they heard the crashing of the big trees and the merry sound of the axes. Great piles of balsam boughs were dragged down from the mountain side opposite the cabin. These were carefully trimmed before they were handed up to Ham, who was in the bunk doing the thatching. The early afternoon saw the completion of the fine, big bed—big enough for five people; and as the fellows became too tired to work, the bunk became more and more popular. Every one was anxious to try it.

A heavy hasp was spiked to its place, and the cabin was put under lock and key for the first time. They had really taken possession of it—it was theirs.