THANKSGIVING BY THE NINNESCAH. 



It was Thanksgiving Day in Kansas. 

 The sun still shone warm over the yellow 

 cornfields and the brown prairies, tho' 

 there was a hint of frost in the air, and 

 the nearly bare trees stood as ominous 

 tokens of the coming winter. The au- 

 tumn wind blew a perfect gale from the 

 southwest. Down in the valley by the 

 river the sand was flying in stinging 

 clouds, jerking the few remaining yellow 

 leaves from the cottonwoods, ruffling the 

 waters of the Ninnescah, beating the 

 purple veil from the hedges where the 

 autumn sun had tangled it, bending the 

 long reeds, and drifting in little mounds 

 beneath the wild-plum bushes. 



On the uplands where the curly buffalo- 

 grass spread its thick brown carpet, the 

 whitened heads of the golden-rods bent 

 before the wind, the sage-grass waved its 

 long yellow stalks, and the sunflowers 

 rattled their bare stems and brown heads 

 together. 



Behind the shelter of one of the sand- 

 hills beside the Ninnescah river a strange 

 assembly of birds and beasts and creeping- 

 things had gathered. 



A couple of rough-coated, sharp-eared 

 gray coyotes were rolling and tumbling 

 over one another in a good-natured 

 scuffle. 



A bunch of quails were picking up the 

 seeds which the wind shook from the sun- 

 flower pods above them, while a few 

 brown prairie chickens lay sunning 

 themselves upon the sand. 



A long-eared jackrabbit sat erect upon 

 his haunches in solemn dignity, acting 

 as umpire to the coyotes' prize-fight ; 

 while his cousin, the little cotton-tail rab- 

 bit, nibbled at some tender twigs that 

 grew near by. 



A rattlesnake was curled up in the sun- 

 niest place to be found, and his compan- 

 ions, the cunning brown prairie dog and 

 the little grey owl, sat near by. 



Sand lizards flashed here and there 1 e- 

 neath the plum bushes, and the guest of 

 honor — a huge mountain lion — lay doz- 

 ing within the shelter of the thicket. 



Blue jays, blackbirds, brown thrushes, 

 scarlet-coated redbirds, sparrows and 

 yellowhammers flitted from bush to 

 tree: meadow larks trilled their cheer- 

 ful song; while up on the topmost twig 

 of a tall Cottonwood tree a mockingbird 

 swung in the wind and poured his whole 

 soul through his little throat in a won- 

 derful stream of melody. 



All the delegates of the animal world 

 being at last assembled, the jackrabbit — 

 in consideration of his dignity — was made 

 master of ceremonies, and called the as- 

 sembly to order in the following words: 



''My honorable friends, the birds and 

 beasts and reptiles of Kansas : We have 

 assembled here today to hold a sort of 

 Thanksgiving service. 



"Once every year men gather them- 

 selves together to count over the good 

 things that have come to them, and to 

 congratulate one another over the evils 

 they have missed. 



"It may occur to some of you that we 

 birds and beasts have little for which to 

 be thankful in these days when dogs and 

 men are so numerous, and when life is 

 attended with so many privations and 

 dangers. But, upon careful thought, I 

 think each one present will be able to add 

 an item to our list of blessings of the 

 past year that will encourage us through 

 the winter days so near at hand. 



"Our friend and guest, the mountain 

 lion, will please to address us." 



The mountain lion opened his fierce 

 eyes, stretched his huge paws, rose slowly 

 to his feet, and shook the sand from his 

 rough coat. 



In spite of the truce of the occasion, the 

 smaller animals eyed him with evident 

 terror, and the prairie chickens fluttered 

 their wings as if ready to fly away from 

 so dangerous a neighbor. 



"What have I to be thankful for?" the 

 lion asked in harsh tones. "I am thank- 

 ful that T have come through the year 

 with a whole hide in spite of dogs and 

 guns and men. I am thankful that dogs 

 arc afraid of me, and that men dare not 



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