io6 



RECREATION 



noticed at all of their shacks, as I 

 passed along, that the interiors were 

 profusely decorated with the choicest 

 cuts from Harper's and Leslie's week- 

 lies, and the police papers. 



Christmas eve had come. On that 

 day the storm had ceased as suddenly 

 as it began. The next morning — 

 Christmas-day — the sun rose over a 

 cloudless sky with dazzling brightness 

 on the pure, white snow ; so that we 

 could see as far as the eye could reach 

 and look around for the relay of ponies, 

 that had broken out of the corral during 

 the storm. They were not to be found 

 in any direction ; so we were com- 

 pelled to remain at the shack until re- 

 lief came from some quarter. 



What a quiet, dreary, anxious day 

 this has been ; nothing to remind me 

 that it is Christmas except the little 

 calendar in my valise. No doubt my 

 friends at home are hourly expect- 

 ing me, yet here I am, snowed in, 

 nearly 2,000 miles away, without any 

 means of communicating with them. 

 I remember having been more un- 

 pleasantly situated on another Christ- 

 mas-day. That, however, was in war 

 times. Then, I had only the shelter of 

 a rifle pit — now I have the shelter of a 

 good, substantial shack. Such is army 

 life. 



Toward evening we saw, at a dis- 

 tance, what was thought to be a sled 

 coming from the direction of the rail- 

 road. We watched it with the keenest 

 interest. As it came nearer we saw the 

 driver laying on the whip, which made 

 the spirited ponies bound over the snow 

 drifts like antelope. A little while 

 longer and they were in front of the 

 shack. 



"A merry Christmas, boys ! " shouted 

 the driver, as he jumped out. covered in 

 furs and looking more like a buffalo than 

 a human being. We responded in true 



frontier style, and asked if lie had 

 brought the turkey along? " No," he 

 said, u I forgot it, but hope you have 

 something to take the place of it." He 

 was highly amused at the predicament 

 we were in, and twitted the drivers for 

 losing their ponies. 



During the night a chinook breeze 

 set in, and by morning the snow was 

 melting and running in brisk little 

 rivulets. We made an early drive for 

 the railroad — leaving the outgoing mail 

 at the station — and got along very well 

 until we approached the Bad Lands. 

 The snow water was running in streams 

 and rushing through ravines and gulches 

 towards the Little Missouri river. We 

 were obliged to leave the trail, and 

 circle around over ridges where there 

 was less danger of being swept away, or 

 of getting stuck in the slimy soil of the 

 Bad Lands. 



Finally, late in the evening, we ar- 

 rived at the station of the Northern 

 Pacific railroad, at the crossing of the 

 Little Missouri river. I hastened to 

 the telegraph office — the operator was 

 also agent — and inquired when the first 

 train going east would leave. To my 

 surprise, I was informed that no pas- 

 senger trains would be running until the 

 spring or summer ; a construction 

 train was expected during the night, 

 which would probably return to Man- 

 dan the next day ; if I wished, I could 

 be accommodated with a ride on the 

 engine, or in the caboose! "Cold 

 comfort," I thought, but I was willing 

 to ride on the pilot of the engine, or on 

 top of the caboose. 



I then sent the following telegram 

 home: "Been delayed by storms — will 

 take first train going east." 



I waited here three days. Finally the 

 construction train came and after many 

 other tedious delays, I reached my 

 destination. 



