I Married a Ranger

ut the rest of our little world lay among big snow drifts. As we walked around among the houses, only our heads and shoulders showed above the snow. It was like living in Ala

f there is no snow," protested White Mou

hot up here, and I'll

d my frozen features into what I considered a cheerful smile. I got more and more scared as we went farther down, and finally had a brilliant idea. "My feet are awfully cold, and couldn't I walk a while?" The Chief had probably heard that same excuse from a thousand others, but he gravely assented and helped me dismount. I star

made a careful approach and took their picture. Of course I forgot to roll the film, and a little later Friend Husband decided to photograph the enormous pillar that gives the name to Monument Creek. The result was rather amazing when we developed the film a week later. The wild burr

aches. That, added to my fear of "phoby cats," made me reluctant to retire. What's a hydrophobia cat? I don't know for sure that it's anything, but the camp man told me to keep my door locked or one would sneak in and bite me. H

e ready in a few minutes, and I want you t

mentioned walking to warm my feet. The trail wound up and up. Today I slid down on Dixie's tail, whereas yesterday I had braced my heels against her ears. A young snowslide came down the

e us a little mad about something; but we decided we really had no right to be killed

then zero-er, and quickly zero-est. I thought of all the hot

ili con

ia Avenue

et s

sustained

for between looking out for another avalanche and wondering how soon I could dece

ver the spring was being rapidly covered with Boston ivy. White Mountain said Earl Shirley used to ride down there twice a week

ught a flivver to take me the remaining six miles in to Headquarters. He had the house warm and had melted snow for dr

went back to my baking, which was abruptly terminated by a blazing board falling into the crock of dough. The house was burning over my luckless head. I turned around and around a few times in the same spot, then tried to throw a bucket of water up against the ceiling. Had I been the conflagration it would have ended then and there, for I was thoroughly drenched. Failing to be my own fire engine I ran o

brides and large parties. That left the ranger family more time for play, especially in the evenings, and we had jolly parties in our big living-room. The piano was the drawing card, and combined with Ranger Winess' large guitar manufactured strange music. When the other rangers joined in and sang they mana

eird crooks and turns they gave to their tunes. Every time an old favorite was sung, it developed new twists and curves. Ranger Winess would discover a heretofore unknown chord on his guitar: "Get that one, boys. That's a wicked minor!"

s a solo, because all the others enjoyed

RO

nd the town, and I

ork and loafin

a man, and he

uster. I can tell

hat I was, and I

he had any ba

pony what kno

cowboys he has

at'd he pay if

old pony arou

dollars;" I said,

the buckboard and h

rning, and rig

e corral to see

n the corner, sta

d pony, a st

rs that were

as stamped

chest, with a

es with an

bridle, then th

my saddle and scr

middle, feeli

he way, boys, w

s Old Roaney

uch of his tim

East, come do

s middle, I wa

air with his

-fishin' so

stirrups and

he horn, blin

ney gently s

n' on nothin'

no cowboy

ney when he make

ips every day, but they had more real sentiment in their makeup than any type of men I know. Maybe it's because women are so scarce around them that they hold all womanhood in high regard. Most of them dreamed of a home and wife and children, but few of them felt the

wed and the Chief smoked he treated us to an hour of true melody. He used to play the bagpipes at home with his fo

d we were in his experiences, he would have given us more than a bare hint of the scenes

fought, when the telephone rang and interrupted the narrative, which was

quarrel with his mother he gathered together all his worldly wealth and invested it in a ticket to Grand Canyon. There he intended to end his troubles, and make his mother sorry she hadn'

e shot himself where he fancied his heart was located (he hit his stomach, which was a pretty close guess) with a cheap pistol he carried, hurled the gun into the Canyon, and started walking back to Headquarters. He met Ranger Winess making a patrol and reported to

n that seems to make it impossible for a perso

ed something on a paper which he tucked carelessly into a pocket of his overcoat. They went on to the Canyon and joined a party that walked out beyond Powell's Monument. He walked up to the Rim and stared into the depths, then turned facing his sweetheart. "Take my picture," he shouted; and while she bent over th

was a very severe winter, the Supai Indians had come up from their home in Havasu Canyon, "Land of the Sky-Blue Water," made famous by Cadman, and were camped among the trees on a hillside. The barefoot women and dirty children were quite friendly, but the lazy, filthy

m of that tribe to bury its members with the right arm sticking up out of the ground. In case it is a lordly man that has passed t

ok at them and buy some of them. Beautiful baskets were brought by the older squaws, and botched-up shabby ones by the younger generation. Sometimes a sick child would be brought

at old squaw coveted a yellow evening gown she saw in my closet; I gave it to her, also a discarded garden hat with big yellow roses on it. She draped the gown around her bent sh

. He had often begged us to visit their Canyon home, and we promised to go when we could. He came strutting into our house one summer day and invited us to accompany him home, as the season