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Show 190 We traveled straight through the mountains, taking one of Papa's short-cuts, over the same trails Uncle Will and I had come when I was twelve, but I had forgotten the way. We passed willow springs and the Parker ranch, heading southwest over nearly obliterated sage-brush trails, through pine and aspen. All day we talked, one adult to another. I told him my experiences in nurse training and about my cases since. He told me the stories of his boyhood, of his young manhood, of his life on this range, things I never knew about him before. Once we passed a weather-beaten little log house, windowless and doorless, up against the timber on a hill. "Once when I was a young man, " Papa said. "The fellows from over on the river and the fellows from Kanosh met at that little log cabin. George Farnsworth and a young kid about sixteen were there from Central. We were all riding together, and at night we would sit around the campfire and brag and lie. If it rained we bunked in that cabin. Someone said a madman had escaped from Provo and was loose in the Pahvant range. The men speculated what they would do if they came across him. " '"I would be scared of him, " said a fellow from Kanosh. '"I wouldn't, " said George. '"What do you want to bet?' said Kanosh. '"It would take more than a wild man loose in these hills to scare me,' said George. |