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Show 1 lE! A The next day, travel was more difficult. A chill northwesterly wind brought in a bank of gray clouds. With the sun gone, we pulled our coats tightly around us, pushing ahead most of the day. In the wind and cold, talking was difficult, so we mostly remained quiet. Polly didn't complain about the cold. I was grateful for that. By afternoon, with the temperature tem-perature continuing to drop, I became fearful of getting caught in a snowstorm and began looking for shelter. I remembered a cave Ike and I had found low in the foothills of Mt. Moriah. Not only would the cave offer protection from the storm, but it would also be an easy place for Ike to find us. We headed straight for the cave, reaching it by late afternoon just as snowflakes were beginning to fall. I quickly set to work unsaddling the horses and staking them out for the night as Polly walked up the slight incline to check out the cavern. It wasn't until I carried the saddles sad-dles up to the cave a few minutes later that I discovered we were not alone. Polly was in eager negotiations with a squat, well-fed Indian. As I entered the cave she was handing him a nickel, which he immediately slipped between his teeth and tried to bite in half. I suppose he was making sure she hcd not given him a counterfeit wooden coin. Satisfied the nickel was genuine, the brave bent down and picked up a dead cottontail rabbit, handing it to Polly. She turned to me, announcing proudly that she had purchased fresh meat for supper. She handed me the rabbit to clean while she began unpacking her things. The Indian explained in broken English that he was a Paiute, and that his name was Turtle Runner. I resisted the urge to laugh. I skinned the rabbit, removing its head, feet and tail. I scooped out the entrails, leaving them in a pile just outside the mouth of the cave. After placing the cleaned rabbit on a smooth rock, I gathered wood and sticks for the fire, which I started just inside the mouth of the cave where it would have some protection from the falling moisture but wouldn't smoke us out. By now the snow was thick and heavy. Though the horses were less than fifty yards away, they were difficult to see. The wind had stopped. Turtle Runner watched me work but made no effort to help. He also showed no intention of leaving. I had hoped he would be on his way after receiving his money for the rabbit, but with the storm it appeared he was planning to spend the night with us. Soon there was a blazing fire, warm and comforting against the falling snow. The rabbit was strapped to a long stick, which I began turning from time to time as the underside began to sizzle. The Indian was totally occupied with watching the cooking rabbit. I guessed he was a lot hungrier than we were. My mouth began to water as the aroma of roasting meat filled Ihe cave. The rabbit wasn't large. In fact, it was very small and would not provide much of a meal for one person, let alone two. And now that Turtle Runner had obviously decided to stay, we were faced with the prospect of dividing it three ways. (To be continued) |