A RANCHMAN'S RECOLLECTIONS 



recall an incident in Montana — just a little thing 

 which illustrates what John Oakhurst did in a big- 

 ger way. He had the trait of sacrificing himself to 

 protect others, if necessary; it was not courage but 

 just a plain inherent willingness to do one's whole 

 duty in a pinch, and take a chance. Perhaps it 

 is not fair to call it western but rather American 

 as our boys who "went across" have told the story 

 in their deeds. Perhaps it is just because the west 

 offers more hazards. I had gone with some friends 

 over a high divide to an interior town near Mis- 

 soula, Mont. Part of the road was along a canyon 

 where one could look down a sheer thousand feet 

 or more. The road in places was very narrow. 

 There were cut-outs for passing. It was not bad 

 in the daytime, but our business detained us, and 

 nightfall overtook us before we reached the divide. 

 There were four of us in an uncovered hack, a sort 

 of spring wagon. The moon would not rise until 

 late. I suppose that we were careless, laughing and 

 talking, and telling stories, but we came to a sharp 

 silence when our driver, an old mountaineer, stopped 

 the team suddenly. We were well up on the divide, 

 but some distance from a passing place. Out of the 

 darkness came a voice, "Hello !" Our driver replied, 

 "That you, Hank?" Then from the darkness came 

 this: "Hello, Billy; unharness; lead your bosses by 

 me; take off your wheels; throw your old cart up agin 

 the side of the mountain, and /'// go round you," All 



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