Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 February 1918 — Snowfoot [ARTICLE]

Snowfoot

By Alger Ray Perrine

(Copyright. 1»17. Western Newspaper Union.) “Give us an exhibition, Mr. Dacre, won’t you?” “Oh, Tm past all that, lads." “No, no,” pressed an eager, excited coterie of schoolboys. “There’s some new fellows here and we’ve been bragging about your acts.” “All right, I’ll see if Snowfoot has forgotten his lessons. Don’t let any of you fellows get the circus fever out of this, though. The glare and glitter don’t last Ibng, and I wasted the best years of my life in.the sawdust ring and you see what I’ve turned out to be.” “The jolly friend of everybody!” shouted an enthusiastic chorus of voices. “Yes, but a shiftless rover, never settling down, Jack-of-all-trades, a meal today, none tomorrow —Houpla! Snowfoot!” ' ■ Everybody in town knew Snowfoot. He was a big built, gentle but strong and steady and belonged to Widow Brayton. Everybody, too, knew Widow Brayton and pitied her, for she was desperately poor and an invalid. There were two children, Ned a lad of eleven and Alma just turning sixteen. When the father died these two had stepped into the breach so far as their limited capacity of earning could count. Alma was receiving a mere pittance fn a sort of apprenticeship to the village milliner. Ned, young as he was, earned ten dollars a week with old Snowfoot. This was how he did it: A Mr. Dalby, siekly and a cripple, with his wife and a hired helper, ran a small farm a short distance from the Brayton place. There were fifteen cows, and he made a proposition to Mrs. Brayton to have Ned help milk these and supply the milk to regular customers. Mrs. Brayton had Snowfoot and a wagon, Ned was a loyal, enterprising lad, worked early and late and it looked as though the family was on the road to better times. “As soon as I am able to trim hats instead of sewing braid only, we shall have all kinds of money, mother,” Alma used to say. Paul Dacre had dropped into Ferndale one morning early when Ned stood leaning in dismay over Snowfoot on the public street. Snowfoot had collapsed when some equine ailment came suddenly upon him and was lying prone upon the ground between the shafts, writhing and gasping. “He’s a goner” an old timer had pronounced. “Let me see. I know considerable about horses,” said Paul, coming up. He examined the eyes and mouth of the animal, took a pencil, wrote the names of two Ingredients on a chip of wood and said: “Go to the drug store mix these powders in a quart of hot water and hurry back as fast as you can.” Ned sped away with the prescription. He returned with a steaming jar. Deft and skillful, the stranger administered the medicine. In five minutes old Snowfoot was regarding..firm with a look as though he fully comprehended his attention, and when he at length gained his feet he lovingly laid his cheek against Paul’s shoulder. They became great friends, those three. Then a new token of interest came into Paul Dacre’s life. He naturally met Alma and they became quite friendly. Head-strong, erratic, ne’er-do-well as he was, there was something beautiful In his love for Ned and old Snowfoot. Paul did odd jobs in the town, but every morning he was on hand to help Ned get over his route. As to Alma, he idolized her, and told her so. “Some day I’ll make a fortune,” he declared. “I’ll make you all, rich and you’ll have so many suitors you can pick some prince or major general for the husband you deserve.” *

And now Paul, homeward bound, was surrounded by a crowd of juvenile admirers. He pretended to whisper in Snowfoot’s ear. Immediately the clever animal he had trained in oldtime circus tricks started running around in a ring. Paul described a running jump, to land squarely upon the back of the horse. A dozen times they sped around the ring. Then Paul made Snowfoot steal a handkerchief from his pocket, locate a hidden ear of corn and nod his head seven times when asked how many days there were • in the week. Paul stood spellbound with dread and doubt, when, late the next afternoon, he went up to the house to accompany Ned on his evening delivery rounds. Ned was seated on the step of the wagon, a picture of disconsolate dismay. From inside the house came the wailing of Mrs. Brayton. Alma came out wiping the tears from her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Dacre,” she cried, “Snowfoot is gonel” “Gone!” repeated Paul, aghast. “Yes, there Was an old debt of poor dead father. It was beyond our power to pay it. Our creditor promised to wait, but two hours ago he appeared with the sheriff and a writ. They seized the horse, auctioned him off, and a man taking a String of horses to sell |

at the stock yards In the city bid In Snowfoot and drove him off.” Paul was speedy activity personified. He hurried to a neighbor and arranged for a horss until his return. “I’ll get back Snowfoot if I have to go to jail for it l”.he declared, and was off on the trail of the man with the market-bound string of horses. It was the next morning when Paul reached the city and located the horse market at the stock yards, close on the heels of Snowfoot. He found where his favorite and some twenty other horses were housed in a pen, to be sold at auction the next morning. Paul had but one idea, to make away with Snowfoot. He would wait till dark. Then his old friend should find freedom. Paul put in the time wandering about the great yards to finally come to a great building arched over with glass and just being completed. It was a vast auditorium, built to house farmers’ conventions and stock shows. At one end was a stage. Nothing was yet set in place, and pulleyed ropes and platforms were suspended from the root rafters, from which workmen were suspended putting in chandeliers and otherwise perfecting the lighting system. About the middle of the building stood a well-dressed, important-looking man, holding his little four-year-old daughter by the hand. He was giving orders as to certain construction details to the contractors, and, Paul learned casually, was head officer of the cattle exchange, a man of enormous wealth who made a hobby of improved live stock. His restive little daughter, a bright, lovely little midget, had taken advantage of her father’s preoccupation and had run about fifty feet to the other end of the building. She had clambered up the steps leading to the stage and was running up and down the platform, pleased at the hollow echo of her pattering feet on the smooth boards. “Hl, there!” suddenly rang out a frightful yell aloft. Within a flashing second of time the scene was one of indescribable confusion. The fusing lamp of one of the overhead workers had exploded. The dripping contents had scattered everywhere; up aloft the whole Inside framework was ablaze. The burning liquid, dropping to the floor, had set a great heap of shavings, block and bench frames on fire. Paul chanced to be near the stage. As he saw an impassable barrier of fire shut off the entire front end of the building he heard the vain shouts of the agonized father, beaten back by the curtain of fire, pleading for the rescue of his darling child. The brick wall behind the stage was solid. The fire was advancing to lick up the new framework. Paul ran to the child. “Little one,” he said hurriedly, “for papa’s sake will you do just as I say? If I set you on my back with your arms around my neck, will you hold fast — fast?” “But won’t I burn?” “You won’t burn, darling. You shall be safe with your father in a jiffy, If you just hold on and never let go.”

It was well that the old skill of his one-time trapeze experience held Paul Dacre in good stead now. The little one kept her word like a Trojan. She did not even whisper as, half way up one of the long ropes, a sweep of cinders came against them like a blast. Then they were at the rafters. Seizing a board, Paul smashed out a broad sash. Now they were on the roof: He drew up the eighty-odd feet of rope, let it trail down over the roof,' and inch by Inch descended down the slant, over the edge, and the gathered crowd cheered and grouped about the hero rescuer and the little child. Paul Dacre did not have to steal Snowfoot to get him back home. He could have redeemed the anijpal had It taken thousands, for the fjfther of the little Evallne could not sufficiently show his gratitude. He offered Paul the charge of a stock farm at a high salary. He even came down to the Brayton .home to visit him. And Alma began to see the nobleness of character In the ex-circus rider. And little Evaline was showing Alma how she had clung to Paul the day of the fire, and putting out her hands drew the face of Alma close to her own. And as it nestled there, the chubby hand drew that of Paul in loving contact, and Alma’s eyes met those of Paul, and the revelation of perfect love was complete.