A Short Story.

Kaipara and Waitemata Echo, 3 April 1914, Page 2

A Short Story.

+ A PRAIRIE FIRE, Prom sixty or seventy miles of barbed wire" fergfee now encircles the well-stocked ranch* of Buffalo Bill, at North Platte, Nebraska, but all " through one summer, not many years ago, before the first post or stretch of wire had been placed there, I watched with interest a nice little game of cross purposes that was proceeding on the next ranch to Bill's. Old Jack Moulton was the owner— a hard-shell, tight-fisted character, who had been horse-breeding and cattle-raising on the same ground years before lots on the site of North Platte were worth ten dollars an acre. He had no end of horned cattle and considerable horseflesh at the time I speak of, and on the list of his ■ chattels, as he told them off on his lingers' ends, he would always wind up with, "My gal Annie." "My gal Annie"—old Jack's wife was long since dead—was his only daughter, his housekeeper, lady help, dairymaid-in-chief, sole heiress to all his possessions, and most Willing, ?oving drudge. She had a great deal to put up with from the old man, but, like the rest of womankind, the stingier he showed himself the more she doted on him. Annie was pretty, with the fresh, buxom beauty that comes of a hard-working life in the fresh air. Her hands and feet were perhaps rather large, from the city-bred giover's and hosier's point of view; but the first kind of tradesmen she troubled seldom, and the sec©nd not at all, for she knitted all her own stockings—and, indeed, had been brought up to make her own clothing generally old Jack despising folderols and store-clothes with a lofty scorn derived from a losigmtercourse with the. works o( nature, in the shape of cows and sucklike creatures, which grow their own coats as a general rule. Yet "my gal Annie" was beautiful, strong-limbed, tall, and shapely, as became the typical prairie wild flower and Annie knew it. Another person who was thoroughOs. ly. terribly aware of the fact was young- Si Zeters, a wild sprig of the wilderness, who had been "raised" an old Jack's ranch, and had spent all of his life that was bounded by the ages of eleven and twenty-two in the service of the old' man, a bold rider, a. clever cattle hand, -an adept with the lasso, possessing all'the.virtues of the barn cowboy, with perhaps a few of his faults. /This handsome young fellow, six feet in his boots, had been promoted to the overseership of the ranch, and was possessed of the clothes he stood upright in, two horses, and the reversion of his month's pay when it should become due, thus Haaking not much of a suitor for ■^ girl who would inherit as much iand as you could look over with a pair of field-glasses, and I don't know how many thousand head of stock. Yet "my gal Annie," beneath a thick upper crust of coquetry, was generally believed to keep a warm corner of her heart for Si. The old man took no notice of the little drama that was being enacted under his eyes—indeed, had never seemed to be aware that his daughter was of marriageable age. Courtship of any kind to him was mere foolishness. He might have been guilty of some such thing in his younger days, but had long outgrown it, and the rest of the world ought to have done the ; same. Such, at: least, was. the general opinion of his views in North Platte, and great therefore 'was the surprise of the whole neighbourhood when he gave "my gal Annie," and incidentally the whole of his friends and acquaintances, to understand that he had -found a husband for her. The young "feller" hailed from Chicago. His parents, wealthy porkpackers, were about to set fdm upas a cattle-grower in the North Platte district, and, among other livestock, he $ntended jtfb acquire a use--ful wife. Annie received with the inform ation a roll of twenty-dollar bills, ; and orders to drive into town and "smarten up a bit," as "the young feller" was coming over at once to spend a month on the ranch, pick up the business, and Select his wife and certain "other cattle" from old Jack's possessions. Annie "smartened up" accordingly, and in the fulness of time " the ! feller" came, saw, and—didn't con- ' quer. He was good-looking, but of a dark and sinister aspect, and his city ! ways were not such as to make an ! impression on the prairie maiden. ' He could ride, box, and shoot passably, and wasn't at all the sort of character for the cow fraternity to make a butt of. J Annie, however, took no sort of stock in him ; his free-and-easy attentions and man-in-possession sort of bearing seemed to vex her beyond endurance. She treated him with considerable cold shoulder, and surprised heretofore unhappy Si Peters by a sudden change from^the teasing mood to which he had been accustomed to demonstrations of hearty, honest affection. They were betrothed sweethearts now, and the spooning that wont on upon every possible occasion, while the "young feller" sat glowering at them. v.'O''l'l h:ive v,-:rrr:''! c:. :■;.-">•.■,<ly tent a cold-blooded, hc:i.rtL>.s;-; trnloot aO. the premises in dciubio-uuiek

Iso the young- pork^packor, , however. He was swlkl -.swith old Jack, and presently irevoked* the aid of that crusty potent&itte to further j his unpromising woo-in 15. 01-d Jack's ' method was rough and:ready. A month's notice to* Ms overseer, a promise of a cowh'iiding to. the "gal" if she did not ( immediately come to her senses, and a; threat that he would fill ineligible Si Peters chockful of buckshot if ever Sound ' monkeying round his> daughter, dur- ' ing the remainder of the term, seemled to his wisdom an infallible speci- ' fie for their love-sicloness. i Young Peters pottered -about his work in mental sackciloth and ashes and "my gal Annie,"" her eyes red with crying, went slnps&iod and 1 down at the heel, and did her best :to make Chicago's life a: burden. So matters stood one lovely even- | ing in the autumn when I had rid- | den over to purchase a. few ponies ' wherewith to complete o/ar outfit. I got into town in the twilight, "ir- ( rigated" at Tucker's Saiboon, and sat j talking over "my gal Annie's" trouI bles with a dozen or two of the boys. It was the topic of the day, and the heart of North Platte went out j to the two young lovers, you bet ! There must have been over a hundred horses and teams within a j square of Tucker's, soiane tied, some j browsing round, according to local i custom. j Suddenly Buck Taylor uncoiled \ his six-foot-three of muscle off a ! table, whence he had been gazing > out of a window, and shouted : "Look at that fellow coming ! ! Wonder what's behind him?" j Coming over the prairie like a I streak of lightning. was Buffalo | Billys best racer, Kitte. j We soon made out little John Nel- | son on Kite's back, without saddle : or bridle, only just the halter, and presently he flew past, unable to stop the racer, and shouted to Buffalo Bill, who stood at the doorway : "Fire ! Pop says prairie ! Whoa, boy—whoa, boy .'" While the little hailf-breed was curbing his steed, the crowd turned out and hastily scamied the horizon with blanched cheeks. Sure enough there, -beyond Cody's Ranch, was the duM black cloud so fearfully' well known to all hands. And, horror @f horrors ! the wind was dead on the town. Kite circled round, with the foam on neck and sides, and the young rider yelled @wt- h>s appalling mes- ' sage again : "Pop says the prairie fire —to come —be quick [" The next iiasftant the :nen of the crowd were scraunbVijig into buggies, catching horses, sod/ing blankets, overcoats, and rugs from the stores, together with matches, rope, kegs of kerosene oil—an-ything to assist in the struggle with the flames. If Buffalo Ball's ranches were burned, the town wiuet go, for they were all that separated the 1 open prairie from the wood-built city. The colonel naturally took com- ' imind, and his first inquiry was : j "Where are the ploughs '?" "Out on the ranch," said the youngster. "Right !" said Bill, never a man lof many words. I And in a twinkle he wa,<3 mounted on old Charlie and oft' like a flash, I followed helter-skelter by the whole j crowd, in the direction of the thick ; black smoke that was rolling up in the east and increasing in volume j every, minute : "Old Jack Moulton is doomed !" shouted some one. But there was no time to discuss that question. It was no ordinary scare, that. You know what a fire is in a brick-built city, but judge what a hurricane of destruction j comes when the thick, tall, grass of the prairie gets alight, and there are no barriers to stop the march of the roaring devil that sweeps on with a tongue of flame ten miles wide, and seems to revel in the havoc it is making ! About two miles out we were met by scores and hundreds of frightened cattle, horses, and mules— Moulton's and Cody's mixed—rushing, on in maddened terror to escape. Cody hastily ordered some of his ! men to head them off, so that they would cross the railroad track, bei hind which was kept a strip of land ready burned off in anticipai tion of such an event ; then, off we 1 plunged again. ' About half a ; mile beyond the 1 homestead, Major North, Broncho Bill, and the ranchmen had already started six big ploughs—four and six horses to a plough, a man on the leaders, another to handle the whip alongside, and two men takingturns at the handles—making a "fire break," or ploughed strip of land, !to the river bank. j Other teams with water barrels j : were streaming along, and present- j ly, dashing here and there, giving orders and despatching couriers, rode ! ■ Buffalo Bill, whose arrival was the ' j signal for wild fchouts of applause. j ' The little army knew that his ex- | perience would fell him what was ' I best to do. Dipping long ropes ' lin kerosene and lighting them, dozens.! lof us rode alongside the furrow' j nearest the approaching danger, fir- j ing the grass close to the ploughed j ground. I : A burning line to the river was soon slowly crackling against the ! wind, while, with wet blankets, ran here and there men, whipping anystray sparks that crossed the border 1 or fell from the air, which hud now 1 become almost stifling hot, the fine : falling ashes making it look grey, as if it had snowed. Faster approached the great mass of smoke and fianie. It did not

sweep along- as the ■"back lire" ;iid, but jumped a hundred yards at a time, hissing, rumbling, crackling, as if it was snapping up a forest iof young timber. It was a grand sight .md a fearful one, though^ we had not much time to look at it. We just put in five years' work in one hour, I reckon, and some of us—old .John Nelson especially—fought it so close that he had his beard and eyebrows ; singed. I There was a dead silence. "My gal j Annie" was missing, and we gazed at each other with horrified faces. i Then old Jack turned to Chicago with lightning in his eyes. "She stood beside you as you mounted, you cur ! Why did you leave her ?" lie demanded. The youngster muttered something about having; no time ; but almost before he had opened his mouth, the old man had cut him down senseless with the butt of a heavy ; whip he carried. The next moment he sprang to his saddle, and would have forcesi the trembling horse back towards the approaching flames, but the iron . hand of Buffalo Bill had grasped the bridle. | "Moulton," said he, "it's awful, but I can't let you commit suicide." j All this had passed in a few seI conds, and our boys were still work- ■ ing away for dear life all along the "fire-break," and in the meantime the snorting, frightened horses, which had been turned loose, their masters being at work on foot, had dashed off for the ranch, with old Charlie at their head and a couple of cowboys at their tail. The back fire slowly. worked to windward, and when it reached a distance of about a quarter. of a mile it seemed all at once to be swallowed up by a billow of Ha me, which, as it struck the saving shore, leaped a hundred feet in the air.and turned to clouds of blackest smoke. Then arose a mighty shout from the river bank as a roan horse, bearing a double burden, seemed to leap from out of the final pillar of fire and spnrks and smoke, and stumbled, panting, into oxir midst. The gallant creature fell at Cody's •feet, and with a gasping sob' gave up its life. Its heart had burst in that last wild effort. This roan horse carried a man and a woman—young Si and "my gal Annie." Si's hat and shirt were on fire ; but the girl, though gasping in the extremity of terror, was unscathed. Ready hands quickly extinguished the young man's smouldering garments ;it was a near thing for him, though, for his long flaxen hair had been burned to the scalp, and there were blisters on his back. Then old Moulton came out of his shell surprisingly. "With tears of joy streaming down his withered cheeks, he seized the young fellow's hands, and said : "I reckon you have about aimed j that gal Annie, and you can take j her, my son, for your own as soon as you like." We watched the fire slowly burn down to the river's edge and expire. The ranch and the town were safe, and so was the Wild West j outfit. I had seen one of the most awful sights that it ever falls to the lot of man to witness, and the next day we all convivialized over a happy wedding. It was that of Sid Peters, with a sore back and his father-in-law's blessing, and twenty thousand dollars in his pocket, who married the prettiest girl round North Platte. T reckon we had a high old time. Young Chicago was absent, but noboJy seemed to miss him much. We do our "hitching" expeditiously in Nebraska, no publishing bani*3 and all that, for we are business people out there, and don't you forget it.