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Show That was a long day. Near evening I happened on a little seep in a wash somewhere near the south end of the Wah Wahs. I collected water slowly in a hole I scooped in the gravel. The horse only wet his mouth in the water. I didn't sleep much. At dawn I found Blaze apparently no worse, weak but game. That forenoon I struck a faint trail I'd traveled before, gathering pine nuts. I knew I was close to the pass north of Blue Mountain. I traveled a shorter route toward home than the way we had used going out. The trail I was on brought me to a water tank. I was glad to find the tank brimful. The horse refused to drink much but I imagined he seemed a bit better. The family of the ranch-where a cowboy with no cows but orange-colored chaps and a fierce six-gun lived--were not at home. We commenced the last four miles across the valley, a weary lad leading a stumbling horse. Mother and Father were both relieved and anxious when I came dragging in. Blaze was not, after all, recovering. He died some hours later in a stall in the barn. Insisting that he would rather have me continue to rest, Father had to take an axe, chop up the gelding, and drag off the portions to a hole he dug outside our corral. Father never reproached me or even discussed the adventure other than to listen while I described it. That was his way. Complete support and all the resources he had; these were ready to help me always. Oh, there's a further chapter of the Horn Silver spectacular: the mine shook the valley with an earthquake old timers talked about, |
