A PERILOUS SLEIGHRIDE. 



Capt. D. Robinson, U. S. A. 



I was stationed at one of the far north- 

 west posts and had not been east of 

 the Missouri river for more than six years. 

 I felt that I had earned a leave of ab- 

 sence, and desiring to spend the holidays 

 with friends in the east, applied for a 

 leave calculating it would take two 

 weeks for the result of the application 

 to find its way back from Washington. 



The mail at our post was tri-weekly 

 in summer, and weekly in winter — some- 

 times longer — it all depended on the state 

 of the weather. In December, the weath- 

 er was uncertain. When the thermom- 

 eter commenced falling it would often 

 go down to 30 or 40 degrees below zero; 

 besides, the blizzards were liable to strike 

 at any time during that month. 



Our mail, in winter, was usually car- 

 ried in a light packing box secured to 

 sled runners drawn by a pair of native 

 ponies. In stormy weather the paper 

 and package sacks were often left at 

 some way station, or cached by the road- 

 side until the storm was over, and only 

 the letter mail brought in. Winter was 

 also the season of rest, study, and pleas- 

 ure, hops, theatricals, sleighing, and 

 quiet card parties making up the social 

 programme. 



Sometimes in mid-winter the restless 

 Indians, across the mountain range, 

 would interfere with our plans and pleas- 

 ures. Their rations would run short, 

 their beef would get poor, or some other 

 real or imaginary grievance would arise, 

 that caused trouble between them and 

 the agent, who generally called for pro- 

 tection from the nearest military post. 

 His appeal would be responded to as 

 promptly as if we were marching on 

 dress parade to the tune of " Over the 

 Hills and Far Away," or some other ap- 

 propriate air. 



The arrival of the mail was always 

 looked forward to with deep interest, and 

 with anxiety when it happened to be a 

 day behind schedule time, as was often 

 the case. Then all eyes would instinct- 

 ively turn to the hill over which the road 

 ran. Even the sentinel, in front of the 



guard- house, would halt at the end of 

 his beat and take a long, wistful look in 

 that direction. No doubt he was expect- 

 ing a letter from some loved one at 

 home. 



At about the time I should have learned 

 something as to my leave, a heavy snow 

 storm set in. The mail was due and, 

 owing to the severity of the storm, no one 

 knew when it would arrive. The wind 

 blew harder and harder until it became 

 a roaring blizzard — such as no human 

 being could live in for any length of time. 

 This continued for several days and was 

 followed by a dead frigid calm. The sun 

 rose and set like a red ball, flanked 

 by mock suns. The snow was banked 

 up over the tops of fences; ravines and 

 gulches were filled to the level and 

 packed as hard as a macadamized road. 



About noon, on the fourth day after 

 the storm began, the sentinel saw some- 

 thing moving over the hill, coming to- 

 ward the fort. At first it was thought 

 to be a stray buffalo, but it turned out 

 otherwise. It was the mail sled. " The 

 mail ! the mail ! " exclaimed many voi- 

 ces This attracted the attention of the 

 whole garrison. All were out watching 

 the sled gliding down the hill to the fort. 

 Smiling fair faces peeped out of windows 

 and doors, and asked passing friends 

 " if it were really so ? " 



Yes, it was Sam, the mail carrier, sure 

 enough; covered from head to foot with 

 buffalo robes. His round weather beaten 

 face and twinkling gray eyes beaming 

 as bright as a full moon. Mustache and 

 long, flowing beard covered with frost 

 and icicles, he looked a veritable Santa 

 Claus — and no doubt he was, to many 

 people at the post, judging by their 

 happy faces after the mail had been 

 distributed. Others again, bore looks 

 of disappointment at not receiving :he 

 expected letter and went away apparently 

 consoled with the hope of receiving it by 

 the next mail. 



I was one of the fortunate, having re- 

 ceived the order granting me a leave ; 

 and by the next morning I was ready 



