Purple Springs | Page 5

been sung about, written
about, talked about, painted, and always it has had in it the restfulness
of evening,--the drowsy whirr of insects' wings, the benediction of the
sunset, the welcoming gladness of a happy family. But these pictures
have not been painted by those of us who have seen the hungry cattle
come in from the range when the snow covers the grass, or the springs
dry up, and under the influence of fear they drive madly on.
All day long the range cattle, about three hundred in number had
searched the river bottom for the grass which the heavy snowfall of the
night before had covered; searched eagerly, nervously all the while,
bawling, ill-naturedly pushing and horning, blaming each other in a
perfectly human way. Disconsolately they wandered over the river to
the other bank feeling sure they would find grass there, only to find the
snow over everything, and not even a little rosebush showing its head.
Then it was that the old cow, an acknowledged leader of the herd, who
bore the name of the "Broncho," on account of her wildness, her
glaring red eyes and her branching horns, with an angry toss of her
head to shake the water from her eyes, lifted her voice in one long,
angry, rolling bellow that seemed to startle the whole herd. It had in it
defiance, and determination. Like the leading spirit among the leprous
men who sat at the gate of Samaria, the "Broncho" gathered up the
feeling of the meeting in one long soul-stirring, racuous bawl, which,
interpreted, meant, "Why sit we here until we die?"
The primitive law of self-preservation was at work--even a cow will not
starve quietly. The grass had been scarce for days, and she had lain
down hungry each night for a week; and now, when the grass had gone
entirely, the old cow had taken her determination; she would go home
and demand her right to live. This thought surging through her soul,
gave decision to her movements. Whether the other cattle came or not
did not matter in the least--she knew what she was going to do. The
strong northwest wind which began to whip the fresh snow into loose
waves, turned the cattle to face the south east, in which direction the
settlement lay. Miserable cattle, like miserable people, are easily led. It
is only the well-fed and comfortable who are not willing to change their

condition, and so when the others saw the "Broncho" forging up the hill,
the whole herd, as if at a word of command, lurched forward up the
bank.
They surged onward, bawling, crowding, trampling, hooking without
mercy. Companions they had been for months before, eating together,
sleeping together, warming each other, playing together sometimes
when the sun was bright. That was all forgotten now, for the
hunger-rage was on them, and they were brutes, plain brutes, with
every kind instinct dead in their shivering breasts. They knew but one
law, the law of the strongest, as they drove onward, stumbling and
crowding, with the cold wind stinging them like a lash.
The night closed in, dark and cheerless, closed in early, under the dull
gray, unrelenting skies, and although lights blinked out cheerfully from
uncurtained windows, and willow plumes of smoke spread themselves
on the cold night air above all the farm-houses, the hearts of the people
were apprehensive.
It was the last day of February--green grass was still far away--and the
cattle, hungry, red-eyed and clamorous, were coming home!


CHAPTER II
THE DAY!
"When time lets slip one little perfect day, O take it--for it may not
come again."
When Pearl woke on the morning of March 1st, it was with a heart so
light and happy it brought back the many Christmas mornings that lay
scattered behind her like so many crimson roses, spilling their perfume
on the shining road which led back to childhood. The sunshine that
sifted through the white muslin curtains of the one small window, was
rich and warm, as if summer had already come, and Pearl suddenly
remembered that the sky had been overcast and heavy the day before,
and the air stinging cold.

She went to the window, and looking out saw that that the clouds had
all gone, leaving no trace in the unscarred sky. The sun was throwing
long blue shadows over the fields, brightening the trees on the river
bank, with a thin rinse of pale gold. Down in the ravine, the purple blue
of the morning twilight was still hanging on the trees. The house was
very quiet--there did not seem to be anyone stirring, either inside or
out.
Pearl dressed herself hastily, humming a tune in happy excitement. Her
whole being was charged with happiness--for the great day had