Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The gazette-times. (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 15, 1914)
11 HOME AND FARM MAGAZINE SECTION Babe's Last Prayer By P. J. Cooney. BABE was a hear a round, plump bundle of brown fur; soft, pad ded paws; twinkling, mischievous eyes, and aninquisitive nose that was forever getting him into trouble. Since the day, a year ago, when Farmer John Clayton had carried him homo from beside the body of his slaughtered dam, Babe had been the pet and playing of the boys at the Clayton Farm. He followed them about like a dog, wrestled with them on the grass in the shadows of the old orchard, fussed with the cat and squabbled with the old hound when ever he could tease that dignified dog into a recognition of his existence. But for Mrs. Clayton and her broom he had a wholesome recent, remem bering the many times his explorations among her pots and pans had ended in his own hurried and ignominous exit from the kitchen door. But today Babe was ill at ease. It was the first day of the fall school erm; the boys had mysteriously dis appeared, and he was lonesome. There were no shouting lads in the shadows of the old orchard, and the great barn was silent and empty. Eestlessly he sniffed along the path, waddled out the open gate, and, rais ing himself erect, gazed wistfully down the' road. There was no one in Eight. He slapped at a butterfly flitting above his head, lurched after (t a few steps, then promptly forgot about it to inspeet the end of a grass grown log. For half an hour he loit ered lazily along the sunlit road nosing at numerous anthills and pausing to nibble at the raspberries that grew ripe and luscious along tho rail fence. Suddenly he stood erect. To bis nos trils had come the familiar and not unwelcome scent of man; he could hear the low murmur of voices. His shrewd little eyes were scanning the veran- Saed front of the log school house. The open door invited investigation. Quietly be drew himself up the steps and into the lobby. For a space he stood staring up at the long row of caps and lunch baskets, on the pegs abovo his head. Odors of bread, Cooked meats and other desirable eat ables drifted down to his uplifted nose Rising on his haunches, he tore a package from its fastening and was greedily devouring its contents, when young woman, book in hand, stepped into the lobby. Her startled scream brought a rush of feot, then a simul taneous burst of laughter. "Why teacher," said 12-ycar-old Ceorge Clayton, "it's only Babe, my tame bear. He won't hurt anyone. I'll take him home. Come, Babe, you rascal. Come home." Obediently, but reluctantly, the bear abandoned the feast and followed the boy out the door and down tho road. It was Babe's first visit to the school house, but by no means his last. The tempting array of goodies in the lunch baskets was too pleasant a pros pect to be readily relinquished. Hard ly a week thereafter but he was un ceremoniously ejected from the lobby, repeated experiences which taught him guile. He soon learned to steal nois lessly up the steps, slip through the door, snatch a lunch from the pegs and disappear unnoticed into the shrub bery. It "You will have to do something about tho bear, father," protested Mrs. Clayton. "For three years now the teachers at the school have boon com plaining about him. He is always gat ting out of the barn, and they can't keep the door at the school closed these hot day3. Miko Dolan, ono of the trustees, called today to see you about it." "Yes, I'm afraid so," agreed her husband. "Ho is three years old now, aud I notice that he is losing his play fulness. A cub is all right, but a full grown bear Oh, well, 1 supposo we can sell him for a good price to the butcher. Bear steaks are getting to be something of a rarity." "Dad! Oh-h-h-h-h, -dad," gasped George Clayton in indignant amaze ment, "sell old Babe to the butcher! Oh, you wouldn't, dad, you wouldn't." "I'm afraid so, my boy," said the father thoughtfully. " l'ou sec, he's almost full grown now, and he'll soon be getting cross and mean." Babe meant" protested the lad. "Why, dad, he's jnst that gentle hell do anything I tell htm. Look here," Babe come 'Babe," he called into the dusk. Babe, grown larger and heavier now, came swinging into the room, his nose expectantly erect "Roll over, Babe roll over," the boy commanded. The animal shuffled uncertainly, his little eyes fixed on the piece of bread in George's hand, then he sank to the floor, and, with a grumbled whine, accomplished the feat. "Now, I'll show you his best trick," announced the boy. "Now, Babe, Bay your prayers say your prayers." He held out a piece of meat at arm's length. The bear rocked back and forth for a moment, then with an impatient "whoof" he sat himself erect. His head sank on his chest and he cov ered his eyes with his paws. "Woof, woof," he grunted. The 'father laughed outright. "Well, George, well see. It does seem a pity. Perhaps we can sell him to a circus. At any rate," he con cluded, "we'll sleep over it" That night, long after the lights in the Clayton home were extinguished the i shadowy gilenee was disturbed by the slow pad, pad of footsteps on the soft grass, as the shambling figure of Babe snuffled around the corner of the building. Nose low, head swing ing, he wandered to the brow of the hill overlooking the railroad track and the river road. Across the wide moonlit world breathed a warm wind laden with the mysterious alluring message of the springtime. Babe stood erect, his paws dropping, his gaze fastened on the black stretch of piney woods across the stream, his nostrils quivering to every vagrant gust. Then he dropped to all fours, whined pathetically, shuffled about restlessly for a moment, and again rose on his haunches. Above the ceaseless song of the river came tho hoot of an owl and the long drawn howl of a far-distant wolf. Babe's throat rumbled a low re sponse. Something away far off in the depths of the dark woods was call ing calling to him. It was the voice of the wilderness, the wilderness but dimly remembered the racial memory of wide untrodden spaces, of dark re treats, where the shadows and sunspots played on carpets of crumpled leaves, where cool streams loitered lazily be tween moss-grown banks and ancient tree trunks. The wilderness was call ing its own. "Woof, woof," he grunted gently with uplifted nose. Uncertainly he shambled down, the slope, climbed the fence, swung across the road and the railway track and into the pines by the river edge. He paused for a moment to drink, then stood staring longingly at the farm bouse standing darkly silhouetted against the starlit sky. Five minutes later, wet and dripping, he clambered out of the water on the opposite shore, and, striking a wood land path, cantored away. No hesi tation, no uncertainty now asthe miles fell away behind him. But into his movements had come something of fur tivencss. The rumble of a wagon on a corduroy road caused him to slink be-, hind a bnsS and await its passing. He gave clearings and homesteads a wide berth and before morning had crept into a cleft of rocks, eighteen miles distant on the edgo of the untrodden wilderness that swept in billows of misty blue away to the Laurentian Hills. Ho awoke with the dawn, ravenously hungry. Tearing apart a rotting log,' he was busy feasting on the white Krubs, when ho raised his head and stood stark still, his body quivering, every :xrvo alert. From the bushes to the right came a rustling and a loud grunt. The shrubbery parted, and another bear, smaller than Babo and lighter in color, emerged into tho open. For a brief space the two animals eyed each other, then they drifted together and their muzzles met with soft whimpering grunts of pleasure. Deliberately, masterfully Bab start ed away. He paused and glanoed back with a pre-emptory grunt The other obediently followed, and the two set out at a steady pace towards the deep er Teceeses of tho forest Tho wilderness had claimed its own again. HL Ten years had passed; Old Babe and his mischievous pranks were but half -forgotten memory. John Clayton, older and grayer now, stepped out ou the kitchen porch, and, shading his eyes with his hand, gased anxiously to tho northward, where a gray pall mounting high to the firma ment told of a forost fire. The acrid smell of smoke was heavy on the morning air. - "If the breeze from the north holds, it will be into the settlements in 24 hours," he commented to bis wife. Have you heard anything of the fire, George," he inquired of his eldest son, who, burdened with two milk pails, came striding up to the door. The lanky school boy was now a lithe young man of 25. "Looks bad, dad," he responded. Fire jumped the Waba Creek last night Woods are full of bob eats and game clearing out before it Frank Hawkins, they say, shot a deer in his clearing this morning. Good thing it's the open season." "Better take the pony," suggested his father, "and ride down the road to McNab 'a and find out if ha has heard anything." "Believe I will. Ill jnst take the gun along in case I should meet some venison on the hoof." He stepped to the wall, took down the rifle from the pegs and hurried toward the stables. IV. Ten years had brought no eh&nge to the gray weather-beaten log school house, save that other children filled the long benehes and another teacher, a tired, sharp-faced woman, sat at the desk. She rapped londly for order. All day the children had been strangely restless. "Can't you sit quietly in your seatst You seem to be all upset about the forest fire. Sarah, see what is making that noise in the lobby." A big girl left her place and glaneed through the doorway. Her instantane ous scream, "It's a bear a big bear." brought twenty startled children to their feet. "Nonsense, Sarah " A loud shuffling drowned the teach er's voice. Then the doorway framed a frightful apparition. Erect to his full height of over five feet stood a monstroifs bear, shaggy of coat, grizzled with years. His mouth Was slightly open, showing his red tongue, his sharp white teeth. His little eyes were twinkling merrily. A silent moment of awe-struck horror, and then, with screams of terror, teacher and pupils rushed for tho open windows and scrambled to outer safety. The - animal dropped to the floor, sniffed curiously along the row of empty benehes, then lumbered back to the lobby, seized a paper-covered pack age and plodded on down the roadway. A moment later he was hidden in a low-lying clump of cedars. V. George Clayton, eantering down the road, suddenly reined his horse. FTom the cedars to the right came the sound of voices. Dropping from the saddle, he broke through the first of the Bhrubbery to meet an cxeited assemblage of men armed with guns and pitchforks. "It's a bear, George he's in there," explained an elderly man. "Come on, you and I will go in and drive him out." With guns at hip, the two cautiously advanced through a narrow lane-like opening in tho cedars, ears and eyes alert for sign or sound of the quarry. As he caught sight of the two men the bear raised his head from the scat tered papers at his feet. There was no sign of fear in his Bteady scrutiny, only eager, curious interest. He ad vanced a step towards them and grunt ed qucstioningly. Then Clayton ' rifle spoke. Tho bear lurched sidewise, turned and snapped at his side, then tumbled ovcrt clutching and clawing at the grass. At tho sound of the shot tho others earns plunging through tho bushes. "Keep back keep back there," warned George's companion. "He may make a rush. Say, he's a big fellow." But from the bear came no motion. He lay on his side, gurgling weakly, a trickle of blood flowing from his mouth. One of the men raised his gun. "Better give him another." "No, no; he's done for." George Clayton stepped nearer. "Lord, what a whopperl I haven't Been a bear," he said reminiseently, "since our Babe ran away. That was Borne smart boar. He'd do all sorts of tricks. Boll over, and stand up, and say his prayers." At the sound of Clayton's voice tha animal stirred uneasily, opened bis eyes and raised his head inquiringly. Then he slowly scrambled to his feet Shouts of warning came from the spectators; a rifle cracked, but the bullet whizzed harmlessly above the creature's head. Weakly, laboriously, with every ef fort of bis fast waning strength, the great beast raised himself on his haunches, his chin dropped and his paws met over his nose. "Woof, woof," he grunted gently. The great, hairy body eollapsed in a thudding heap. A quiver, a gasp, then the mighty limbs stiffened in a alow contortion. Old Babe was dead. George Clayton dropped his gun and bent over the prostrate figure. His face was working strangely. "Boys, it was him it was Old Babe, eome back after all these years, and it was mo " the words lumped in his throat, "it was me that killed him." The Polite Jap. "In your country you compress the women's feet, do you not!" "No, madam," responded the Jap anese 'That is, or rather was, a Chinese custom. In Japan we allow our ladies' feet to grow to their full size." And then, after a bow, ho added in the politest of tones: "Not that they could ever hopo to rival yours, madam." YOU CAN EARN $50.00 PEjJ earlett Improved Standari Well Drilling MicMm, DrilU through aay form boa! Frve rears ahead of any other Ha iccofd of drUla (30 M and dmrma caaina in 9 hour! Another record where 70 fert wtsdri tl9cperaL OremancaBopwite. LlericaJty eauipped r inning night. -thtngor. lngine ignition, aruosuc VZ EIEHS0N MACHINERY CO., Munlrt. Portland, Or Howt0 get 320 Acres Free Do You Want a Homestead? Lilt of GoTernmant Und In each Stat tnhject to homeitead and for what belt adapted. Alio description of Oregon t7 Gountiei. Send for 240-page book, "Ad vanlagoa of Oregon." Price SO canta post paid. R. C. FISKE 410 Panama Eldg., Portland, Oregon. Lee Miller Sanatorium A High-Grade SANATORIUM' for Men tal, Alcoholic and Drug Cases. ETHI CAL TREATMENT. AT THE SERVICE OF ALL PHY8IOIAHB Oorreapondenee Solicited. Reference : E. L. Gilletpia, M. D. ; B. L. Herden, H. D.J B. K. Joaephl, M. D. LKS MH.LKB, Manager. 201 Rait 82d St. M. Portland, Or. Take Moctaillla Oar. Phono Tabor 507. O h M C D mmI Chronic UHUUEII Di.ea. cured without drugs or knife NATURAL SANATORIUM 178 Eaat 60th Street, Portland, Oregon es The Barthold-Barg Co. In. , 127 Fourth Street, Portland, Ore. Instrument and Steel Tap Repairing Uigh-QlaM Bin Printing KxeiuiiT Dealers In DRAWING MATERIALS purveying and Drafting Instruments, Architect' aid Engineers' eoffUet,
