Touched to tears, the group of rugged men stood in silence till Colonel Morgan said quietly, “Let’s make a litter, boys, and carry his body home.”
The next day a crowd of ranch folk from all over the valley gathered to pay their last humble tribute to the old mountaineer. They buried him on Sunset Cliff, just above his cabin. An elder made a few remarks, telling the story of the old man’s noble self-sacrifice, read the Shepherd Psalm, and offered a simple prayer. To mark the spot, a cairn of rough stones was piled above the grave.
After the crowd had dispersed, Fred and Alta lingered to cover the cairn and grave with autumn leaves. The sun was just setting when they finished their loving work and took the trail toward the Morgan ranch; for the Colonel would listen to no other plan than that Fred should stay there as long as he remained in the valley.
As they climbed the hill above the cabin, they turned to take a parting look. The old mountaineer’s home stood in the shadows, deserted, but the last rays of the sun lingered on the cliff, the newly-made grave, and the sheltering pines above it.
“Isn’t that a beautiful spot in which to lay his dear old body to rest?” said Fred.
“Yes,” responded Alta, “I shall always feel better to think of him sleeping where the sunlight loves to linger.”
They stayed a few moments gazing in silence on the picture of light and peace. Then with hearts strangely lifted out of the gloom that had depressed them, they turned in the sunset afterglow to ride slowly home together.
THE END
PRINTED BY R. R. DONNELLEY
& SONS COMPANY, AT THE
LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO