Porridge. That sounded solid and Scotch, thought the girls, and they enjoyed it too, with plenty of cream, and fresh berries, and eggs. It was very pleasant in the long, low, ceiled kitchen. In the summer time, the cooking at the ranch was done at what they called the cook-house, a cabin half rock, half logs apart from the main house. This left the kitchen free from the warmth of the fire, and all its windows were open. The interior was unplastered. Here and there on the walls hung a pair of antlers, and over the fireplace was a pair of long, sword-like horns from a Rocky Mountain goat. On a homemade rack along one side of the room were several rifles, and one long, old-fashioned musket.
“That was father’s,” Jean explained, when the girls were examining the guns after breakfast. “He was in several of the Indian campaigns out here, along with Sandy MacDowell. Wait until you visit over at the Alameda ranch, and hear them talk together. Now, come out to the cook-house and meet Sally. She’s very anxious to see you all.”
“Who’s Sally?” asked Sue.
“Sally is Sally Lost Moon, mother’s standby on the work question. Sally wandered here years ago in a blizzard. She had lost her way somehow, trying to get over to Deercroft. She is a half-breed Shoshone squaw who worked at different camps as cook, until she came to us. If you want to hear all the old Indian legends of this part of the world, you want to start Sally talking when she has her supper work all finished, and is sitting out on the stoop resting.”
The girls trooped after Jean, as she led the way to the cook-house. Inside, they found Sally Lost Moon, and were formally introduced to her. She was very “blank” as Ted remarked afterwards, but scrutinized each young face with shrewd intent, and a curious, set smile, and shook hands deliberately with each one.
“Can she talk if she really feels like it?” asked Ruth interestedly, when they left her.
“Indeed she can,” returned Jean. “She is always very dignified with strangers. She has two little granddaughters at one of the mission schools, and sometimes they come out in vacation time to see her with their mother. Each time they bring Sally a gift, and she never uses it. She has everything that they have brought her sacredly put away. And she’s so proud that they belong to the Church, and are being educated. Nearly all the Indian women are that way. It is the men who sit back, and regret the days before the white men came and took away their hunting grounds.”
Peggie joined them, and said that Don was anxious for the girls to meet Prometheus. They went down past the corral, to the wagon sheds, and there they found Prometheus Bound, as Jean said. He was the most cheerful looking bear, with a way of holding his jaws open as if he were smiling, like a panting dog, and he sat up on his hind legs obligingly, and shook hands with each girl.
“What kind of a bear is he?” asked Polly. “I can’t tell the difference between the Rocky Mountain bears.”
“You would if you thought about it,” Don told her. “There’s four that we have up this way, Cinnamon, Silvertip, Grizzly and Common Brown bear. That’s what old Pro is, just a common brown Johnny bear. I got him when he was a cub. Some folks up at the Sweetwater ranch were out hunting, and they killed the mother, and right after it I found this little shaver trotting around looking for his mother, so I caught him, and brought him down home, and Peg helped me bring him up. He can dance, and walk on a pole, and play ’possum, and say his prayers, and do lots of tricks. We used to have him in the shed back of the house, but mother sent him down here after he’d eaten up the bishop’s Sunday dinner.”