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Olbrich, M. B. (ed.) / The Wisconsin literary magazine
Vol. 1, No. 4 (March 1904)

Bayfield, the school ma'am,   pp. 135-140

Page 135

and shivering bodies, stood three forlorn little figures; each
looking blankly into the dark water. Then, the same idea
,communicating itself to all, they hurriedly dressed and, with
never a backward glance, ran down the lane.
  The sun sank slowly to the horizon, crimsoned, and disap-
peared. Strange phantoms stole over the surface of the river.
The dusk melted into the darkness of night; and the river,
turning and twisting, flowed quietly, relentlessly on through
the blackness.                         -0. R. Smith.
  I was tired and hungry as I came around the bend in the
canyon and saw the light in the eating tent. Supper would be
cold by the time I got there. For a line-rider with a daily
journey miles too long, cold supper was no novelty. As I
galloped past the open end of the tent the other boys of the
party were seated around the cook-stove. They had eaten
their warm meal in comfort and companionship, and now
with belts loosened and corncobs lit, they were "drawing's
Mormon Charley, the cook, on his favorite theme of Paradise
Lost-how evil and immortality had come to Salt Lake only
with the Gentiles. Charley was an enthusiastic propagandist,
and was continually cautioning us to judge "the religion" by
his precept and not by his practice. If preaching must be
paid by laughter, Charley was too good a Mormon not to
preach, so he was submitting to the hilarious cross-examina-
tion. I was cold and hungry. I did not like their horse-
play tonight. As I loped past the tent down to the corral,
my partner welcomed my horse's hoof-beats.
  "Nutt, Nutt, chuck wagon has come!" I did not answer.
I threw off the saddle and shook down the fragrant alfalfa,
examining over my shoulder the other horses in the corral.
Yes, the skunk-tailed horse was gone. It was prayer-meet-
ing night at the settlement, and Bayfield had taken my horse.
I must ride a fagged horse tomorrow.  I swore. In the

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