Gray dawn looked down upon the shivering vallies and bare, huddled hills, and shed a ghostly light upon the snow-capped peaks, but the man who plodded up the hard, frozen trail seemed unaware of the morning for on his arm still hung a feebly burning lantern. In one hand he carried a milk pail, not with the free, easy swing of one who sees before him a comfortable day's work but with the tired heaviness of him whose labors have already been great. He was tall, but care had laid a heavy hand on his shoulders, had bowed his head, and weighted his steps; he was handsome, but trouble had creased his forehead, silvered his hair, and saddened his eyes. And now he plodded up the trail and into the small, frame house. No fire burned in the stove and stacks of soiled dishes littered the table from last night's supper. Mechanically he found a pan in which to strain the milk, shook down the ashes, kindled a fire, and then retired to his room to "clean up".
In the kitchen once more he uncovered his stock of "sour dough" - some of which served as the basis for mysteriously concocted pancakes. These were brown and coffee steamed on the stove when another step sounded on the porch.
"All ready, Lee," he called, flinging open the door to let out some of the smoke.
"Right here, boss" was the prompt reply of the older man who entered. To be sure his hair was still streaked with brown, but his eyes were clouded and one knotted hand found an easy resting place at the small of his back. Without ceremony he drew up his chair to the table and fell to eating.
"Some cold out, boss," he ventured, sipping the coffee thru his mustash.
"Yeah, it's awful cold, the thermometer registers 15 below."
"I'll tell you, its lucky we drove them cattle in afore this cold spell or we'd a froze in our saddle!"
"You bet," was the soul reply.
Conversation lagged. There was nothing special to talk about. The cattle had been discussed so often that each could anticipate the other's speech on this subject. Of course there was the war. In those days, every American scanned the newspapers with throbbing heart and clenched hands and spent hours talking with his friends about "the front". These two men were every inch Americans and yet they found little to say. In the evenings sometimes when they were not too tired they would read the last paper -- always a week old -- and discuss operations over there with some spirit, guessing what the next moves might be. The news was always telegraphed to town every day, but that was 5 miles away and the boss considered himself fortunate to be able to go there even once a week for his mail.
With only two men to do all the work on a large stock ranch, he had no time for pleasure. People in the cities were outdoing themselves on liberty loans, were sacrificing sugar and flour that the "boys" might have it, were giving up their business positions to enter the Y.M.C.A. or some form of service -- and the papers screamed this aloud and spurred them on. But these two men, and hundreds like them over the country districts were doing the work of four men and fighting as hard a battle as the soldiers in France -- but no one suggested it and not even they themselves thought of such a thing.
For awhile each man was occupied with his own thot and then the boss began speaking slowly as tho he were talking to himself.
"Yes, it's going to be mighty hard, Lee, those sixty head of thorobred cattle will need lots of attention, and then there's the hay to haul down when the snow gets deep enuf, and the road to keep open so we can make it to town when necessary. Yes, it's tough, but we'll have to manage somehow."
He pushed back his chair and arose.
"You can turn the horses into the little pasture for awhile I guess, all but Duke, his foot's still pretty lame where he got it cut on the barbed wire. Soon's you finish that I'll need you down at the cow barn."
Altho the sun was now bright there seemed not enuf heat in its rays to penetrate the cold and the boss' old red mackinaw felt thin against the frost. However, he pulled his cap over his ears, drew on his gloves -- stiff and cracked from being wet -- lighted his pipe and strode off down the trail. Half way to the gate a big brown shepherd dog bounded to meet him and caught at his hand and barked into his face.
"Good old Bill Dog! You've been hunting rabbits haven't you? Now now -- I haven't time to play -- You'll have to come and help me work won't you?"
The dog barked his assent and trotted proudly on ahead.
Somehow, last night the boss had neglected to fill the big cement watering trough, as was his custom, so it was almost empty. Every cold morning part of his routine was to thaw out the section of pipe above ground by pouring hot water over it and this morning he emptied the entire teakettle before even a shallow gurgling sound was emitted. But no water came. He kicked the pipe thinking to loosen the ice and went to the house for more hot water, but there too the pipe had frozen. Hastily he melted some snow of which there was a light covering on the north hill slope and among the trees and tried again -- but it was of no use -- evidently the trouble came at the other end -- at the spring.
Just then the horses trotted out from their barn and around to the trough -- at first pretending they were afraid of the cement structure and then thrusting their noses deep into it. How disappointing! Not enuf water to smell and it was covered with ice -- In disgust they tossed their heads, kicked up their hoofs and dashed for the pasture.
Lee followed to close the gate, but stopped when the boss called to him.
"How's that?" he ejaculated. "She can't be froze up -- maybe the spring's stopped up somewhere, you go on boss and see an' I'll feed the stock."
So the boss took a shovel and started for the spring half a mile up the hill. He might have saved his trouble for the water there was clear and deep and the opening to the pipe unobstructed. This meant but one thing -- that somewhere in that half mile of underground pipe -- perhaps all the way -- the water had frozen! It did not seem so serious to him until he considered the possible consequences. What if the pipe should burst somewhere? What if the snow should not come for weeks and the ground should stay frozen? The cattle could go without water for 3 days or 4 -- how long could they endure anyway? -- and then, ... he shuddered ... but there was still the river 5 miles away, where they could go if things came to the worst.
Suddenly he realized that he was wasting time -- he must do something right away -- perhaps Lee would know -- all the weariness seemed to have fallen from him -- he hurried down the hill with great strides and within 10 minutes was back at the barn. Such a change as had come over him since morning -- the wistful sad look had gone out of his eyes -- they were bold and commanding. He was a different man. He found Lee wielding a pitch fork in the loft and breathlessly explained matters to him.
"Here," he cried, "give me that other pitch fork -- we must get thru here and see what can be done." Such was his energy that clouds of dust and alfalfa leaves soon filled the air -- but he paid no heed altho his companion coughed painfully.
"That's done!" he ejaculated at last. "Just let the other work go and come with me up to the pipe line. Better harness the gray team I guess and bring the hay rope. I'll take a saw and ax and meet you at the fence.
Such a change as had come over the boss since morning. The sad, wistful look had gone out of his eyes and left them bold and commanding -- he was master of the situation with a definite purpose and goal. By the time Lee arrived at the fence with the horses he had dragged logs and kindling into the barren strip of trail that marked the place where the pipe had been put the previous spring and was chopping into a dead tree. For a brief moment he leaned on his axe and gave directions.
"Let the horses drag in the heavy stuff -- tie the rope onto the harness -- yeah that's it. Here's a saw if you need it. Lord man, we've got to work to get this done!"
He fell to once more and Lee, catching something of his spirit, worked with a will while the big grays did their best.
Noon was long past, 3, 4 o'clock came and went and still they toiled though sweat stood on their brows and their hands cramped and pained.
Lee winced as he strightened his back.
"I've gotta rest, boss -- all tuckered out, I am" he panted at last.
"Eh - - -? Yes -- So'm I -- Lee, reckon we've gotta quit -- didn't get very far -- 's all right."
They stumbled to the house and sank into chairs -- exhausted for the moment.
The boss was the first to pull himself together.
"This won't do" he murmured. "We need food -- that's what -- something hot." With this he arose and deliberately started a fire in the stove. Bread he found -- and a can of something or other -- and coffee -- he hardly thot of what he was getting. In his mind was the big question. Would he be able to do it?
The chores that night were poorly done -- though only the most necessary things received attention, as soon as they were finished the 2 men went to bed and in 5 minutes were asleep. Toward morning when the mercury dropped to 20 below 0. Bill dog pushed a cold nose against his master's face and was allowed to share the cover. At five o'clock the little alarm clock buzzed and a new day of work began.
The cattle were restless. Calves balled continuously -- the mild cows kicked and shook their horns, the herd sire stomped about his stall and bellowed low in his throat. They were not satisfied with hay and some refused to eat. They wanted water, but the boss had none to give and he turned away with tight lips.
The work of piling fire wood along the pipe line continued all day -- but this time they stopped for lunch and again at 5 o'clock. By great striving they had managed to complete the line and now the fires were ready to light.
They permitted themselves to rest until midnight but when the alarm buzzed they got up heroically (stoically), put on the warmest clothes they had and went to the pipeline there to start a blaze that could be seen for many miles. But they knew what they were doing and that they ran little risk of starting a forest fire because the trail was wide -- on one side stretched a barren field and on the other -- oh well they could watch the other. How the flames licked up the dry wood and crackled in the air! They kept the men busy replenishing fuel of which they had gathered none too big a store. The burning wood, pine, aspen, and oak gave off pungent odors into the clear frosty air. Not a sound stirred the forest beyond that line of flame and the men tramping up and down the trail seemed very much alone in that wide expanse of country. They did not notice the shadows that flickered among the trees or the stars that blinked down disapprovingly or the moon -- turned on its side to stare at their strange proceedings. Ah no -- they looked only at the fire to see if it needed more wood -- and spread their hands to the glaze and stamped their feet to keep warm.
When morning peeped over the eastern mountains two drooping figures accompanied by a tired dog left a string of ashes and burned out coals and limped to the house.
This was the beginning of the third day without water. The men scarcely bothered to melt snow for themselves -- so anxious were they about the stock. At the watering trough the boss put his hand upon the hydrant and turned the knob -- but no welcome stream of water rewarded him. Well, he had hardly expected it. There was still the barnyard end of the pipe to be thawed out -- when that was done they would see.
Before he reached the cowbarn dismal bawlings sounded in his ears and he flinched as he was forced to go among these dumb suffereing animals without means to quench their thirst. He feared almost to look among them -- and well he might -- for tragedy had stalked there -- the end cow lay on the floor -- her head hung unnaturally in the stanchion -- and beside her stretched her week old calf. The boss touched the small inert body -- unbelievingly -- but it did not stir. He raised a gray face to the other cattle and then bolted out of the door. It was too much -- he had no right to rest while they suffered so -- there was yet much to do. There was time! it was not too late!
Dully he tramped back and forth bringing fuel to the line -- there was only a short distance left, but it seemed an eternity before he filled it. Then he lighted it and sat on the barn steps and regarded his work -- and rested -- he was so tired -- and cold -- he did not realize how tired and cold and numb he was until somebody shook him -- shook him hard and called his name. Was it Lee? No, it was a stranger -- no -- he knew the face -- it was John -- John Farrell - from town.
"Wake up, man, you're frozen -- don't you know you oughtn't to sit here like this?" The voice drummed persistently in his ears. "What are all these fires for anyway? I noticed them from town early this morning and thot you might be in trouble."
The boss rose unsteadily to his feet.
"The fires? Oh yes. John, the water pipes froze up and the cattle are dying from thirst. We've been trying to thaw it out -- working all the time -- but -- I -- guess -- it won't work. The river's five miles away - don't believe I could stick in my saddle to drive them down."
He smiled warmly.
"Cheer up, old man, you're tired that's all. Where's Lee?"
The boss jerked his thumb toward the house.
"Plum tuckered out."
"You say the cattle are dying?"
"Two gone already."
"Gee, that's tough! Look here, I'm fresh and rested. I'll drive the cattle down to the river for you. Why I'd be glad to!"
"If -- if you would - - - -" the bosses face became anxious again but John Farrell had already opened the barn doors and was busy about the stanchions. He was not a cowardly man but it took courage to go in among that mass of rolling eyes and hoarse bellows -- and he was a stranger to them besides, but he had nerve and was loyal to his friend in time of need -- the only two essentials in this case.
Out of the barn catapulted the herd -- trampling upon each other -- carrying the weak along with them -- straight for the cement trough. But there was no water -- they pushed and struggled and wailed -- and then were driven out the gate and toward the road, by John Farrell. They moved with slowness -- some dropped out by the way and stood dejected, some stumbled along -- but altogether they made headway.
The boss leaned on the fence and watched them with a dull pity, then his eyes roved back to his unsuccessful fires -- along the pipe line to the trough and halted -- what was that rushing gurgling noise? Water! Water at last! -- water from the pipe splashing in steady stream into the tank.
He gave a great shout that turned John Farrell about in his steps. He waved his arms and cried for him to come back. He acted like a maniac because there was water. And John came back -- driving the frenzied animals with no trouble to the trough and he rejoiced with their master.
Long and deep the thirsty cattle drank -- unwilling to leave the trough even when they were satisfied, and the two men stood and watched them, marvelling at the change which took place over them.
"I never expected to see a shortage of water in this country" remarked John.
The boss passed a hand over his eyes. "No -- I never thot of it -- Just look at them drink, man! I didn't realize just how much water meant to me before, but its a great thing man -- and we can't do without it."
Slowly they walked to the house. The boss was finding out how tired he was and his steps lagged but the light did not go out of his eyes (and he talked cheerfully).
They found Lee in a chair by the stove -- dozing comfortably but disturbed by voices he roused with a rasping cough and straightened up -- only to clasp his back with an expression of pain.
"Lord," he groaned "rhematiz I reckon. Howdy John -- how come - - - ? Well we sure need help," he continued when they told him, "boss, I feel mighty lowdown mean to leave ya like that -- but I was tottering on my legs -- she's still froze up? No? Lord! I knew by your face it was allright -- it don't make no difference to me how it happened but Providence sure must'o had a hand!"
That evening, after John had gone, the boss went to the cowbarn and looked over his herd. Contented mooings in soft undertone accompanied by the crunch of hay and the rattle of the stanchions greeted him. A black kitten ran along the beam and climbed to his shoulder -- a curious little calf followed him about on his awkward legs and permitted his ears to be rubbed. Only one thing marred the beauty of it -- that was an empty stall on the left end -- It was not the loss in money ($500 at least) that the boss thot of when he looked at this -- no, it was a deep humiliation that he had permitted such a thing to happen.
"Thank God no more of them died" he muttered "and next spring we'll dig that pipe line twice as deep and run no risks of this."
By now the short winter twilight had darkened into night. Lee was in bed, but the boss softly closed the door into his room, lighted a lamp and picked up the mail John Farrell had brot from town. Among it was a letter in his wife's familiar hand -- it was dated November 15, 1917 and began
"My dear husband:
I hope this letter will reach you before Thanksgiving Day. I am writing it a week ahead of time to be sure and to let you know that I have sent a box of good things for your Thanksgiving dinner."
The boss glanced at his calender -- a red number stared back at him from the column of Thursday. Thanksgiving day! He had lost track of the days of the week, sure enuf. Then followed directions as to how to prepare these "good things" and comments on how the children were doing in school.
The letter continued:
"I don't know, dear, whether we are doing right or not by staying here. I suppose the children's education must come first, but oh how I wish I might be with you to help you!"
The boss slowly folded the letter and slipped it back in its envelope. His heart was very full. The world had changed for him since morning -- he had accomplished his task, his cattle were cared for and contented, he had courage to "carry on" again.
He turned the lamp lower. One heavy boot hit the floor and then the other. Bill dog scratched at the door and the boss arose to let him in -- standing in the door a moment to peer into the night. Soft gray clouds covered the sky and flakes of snow fell into his outstretched hands. He need worry no more about the pipes freezing -- by morning a thick blanket of snow would cover the earth and all would be well.
He lifted up his face and his heart swelled with emotion, while deep in his soul he offered a great thanksgiving.