The Angler's Story 65 



then, kicking off a skee, lie whirled it aloft, sprang 

 forward, went down, and the light went out. 



Old Joe Kicking Horse, a Modoc Indian, was 

 cutting wood for the T. D. Company in the Ses- 

 qualie range and, as he later told the story, was 

 making coffee over the camp-fire, when a wild 

 figure came rushing out of the woods, whirling 

 a long skee about its head, and plunged head- 

 long into the coals, from which Old Joe and 

 his squaw pulled him, to find, to their amaze- 

 ment, a baby strapped to his back; a baby not 

 much over a week old, feeble and apparently 

 starving. The squaw took the baby and folded 

 it to her ample breast, while Old Joe forced 

 some whisky down the insensible man's throat. 

 For a long time he worked over him, while a 

 droning Modoc lullaby and a lullaby is the 

 same over all God's world came drifting on 

 the wind from the cabin-door. He rubbed life 

 into him, and suddenly the gaunt, haggard frame 

 of a man struggled blindly to its feet and turn- 

 ing fiercely to Old Joe cried: "Where's the 

 kid? " 



" You come," replied the Modoc, and taking 

 the trembling man by the arm, he led him into 

 the shack. Steadying himself, Clancy looked 

 round, rubbed his bloodshot eyes, and made out 

 what at first looked like a big, squat figure of 

 Buddha that slowly changed into a squaw. 



" She heap busy," said Mrs. Old Joe. 



