C. over and whispered: "Say, Uncle
Rome, I coiled a lasso an' put it under Nielsen's bed. When he's
asleep you go pull it. He's tenderfoot like Dad was. He'll think it's
a rattlesnake." This trick Romer must have remembered from reading
"The Last of the Plainsmen," where I related what Buffalo Jones'
cowboys did to me. Once Romer got that secret off his mind he fell
asleep.
The hour we spent sitting around the camp-fire was the most pleasant
of that night, though I did not know it then. The smell of wood-smoke
and the glow of live coals stirred memories of other camp-fires. I was
once more enveloped by the sweetness and peace of the open, listening
to the sigh of the wind, and the faint tinkle of bells on the hobbled
horses.
An uncomfortable night indeed it turned out to be. Our covers were
scanty and did not number among them any blankets. The bed was hard as
a rock, and lumpy. No sleep! As the night wore on the air grew colder,
and I could not keep warm. At four a.m. I heard the howling of
coyotes--a thrilling and well remembered wild chorus. After that
perfect stillness reigned. Presently I saw the morning star--big,
blue-white, beautiful. Uncomfortable hours seemed well spent if the
reward was sight of the morning star. How few people ever see it! How
very few ever get a glimpse of it on a desert dawn!
Just then, about five-thirty, Romer woke up and yelled lustily: "Dad!
My nose's froze.
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