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Show 118 On the door of our cabin was burned a message. "Please come in. Help yourself to the wood and use the cabin. Leave the water bucket and teakettle upside down and wood in the bin. Thank you. " I was proud of that hospitable message, because other cabins not in use all year round had chains on the doors, the windows nailed shut and threatening messages on their doors. "Keep out. Anyone breaking in will be prosecuted. " Our door was never locked, and such welcome usually paid off, but this time it didn't. When we left it earlier in the week we had emptied the teakettle, the water bucket and the wash basin, as directed, and filled the wood box. I found the wood burned up, the teakettle and bucket half filled and a drowned mouse in the dirty water of the wash basin. Since all the wood was covered with snow I had to dig into it with hands numb with cold, chop what I could off the wet logs and whittle kindling with a not too sharp butcher knife. I got a fire going, finally, and went to the spring after water, washed out the basin, and swept the mouse droppings from the table. There was no food except half a sack of flour which was tied securely to a wire dangling from the rafters. The bedding was there, too, to keep them from the pack rats, mice, and other rodents. I settled down to a two hour worry about the wagons falling down the dugway. There was a light across the valley at Hawley's ranch, but it gave me no sense of security. It might be rough, strange men. Papa had neglected to tell me that Uncle Will would meet us in Three Creek. |
