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Show page 77 miniature all the ravines and dips of the valley and the tablecloth and his apron become his share of the winter's whiteness. Al saw glimpses of his former world when the men came in to meals. He saw the men off to work hours before daybreak and pounded the triangle at noon. And ever, with the eagerness of youth, he hung about their conversation as they lingered over coffee and talked of the cattle and the cold. A part of his world returned and his hurt and his blindness melted away. Mornings he helped Fritz and Jim with their mackinaws, overshoes and mittens. Evenings he met them at the door, and tales of coyotes and rabbits and feeding cattle were his. Once Fritz came with an icicle on his stubby beard. Al stared at this sign of the winter's might in awe, until Fritz broke it off and gave it to him. He thought Fritz was joking him for sure, but he laughed and glowed with warmth when Fritz rubbed the itch where the ice had stuck. "Boy," Fritz said, "the coyotes are traveling on snow-shoes." Fritz's eyes twinkled and glowed. "I was cutting the east water hole, had a hole about twenty feet long - " He paused and extended wide his arms. " - and this big trout jumps up and spits on my beard. Good thing my beard was short or he would have dragged me in. Well, there it froze and made a shoot of ice right to the river. And there I was. There I was. Jim had to chop me loose." Al knew that Fritz was a great man and a master of all |
