isa-normaladvance-1914-00198

Description: 198THE NORMAL ADVANCEa &ace »ttf) an Snbtan Moman(A TRUE STORY) By ORVA STINEThe west wind came a whispering, a whispering
to me,0, partner, good old partner, do you mind when you
were free?When you rode a hard mouthed pony and your root-
tree was the sky,—And your wall the far-off mountains and stern and
steep and high?WHEN the following incident took place I
lived alone on the South Dakota
prairies three miles from any neighbor in a
claim shack and according to the dictates of
an unrestricted personality I spent part of my
time teaching a dozen pupils in a little town
school three miles distant. I lived there on
the homestead fourteen months. The only
company I had was a pony Golddust by name
and which in my estimation was the finest in
the country. My other pet was a gray maltese
cat which earned its shelter by keeping the mice
away. Whenever I went away to spend a
night or so, the cat was crowded into a sack, the
opening tied together at the top and then hung
on my saddle pommel ready for the trip.Located about six miles from my claim and
near a river was a country store and hotel
which served as the social center for all the
homesteaders miles around. When the
bachelors wished a square meal, there they
would go. When the mail bag was brought in
twice a week every homesteader of that vicinity
was likely to make his bi-weekly visit
or,
whenever the blues or loneliness oertook one it
was there that refuge was sought. If the cup¬
boards needed replenishing the popular place
was the store. In the winter the home¬
steaders had their skating parties there
in the
summer their boating. Surrounded by beauti¬
ful trees and a river the place was ideal for
rest.Another feature was the out-of-door bowery.Once at least every week the crowd gathered
to trip the light fantastic to the strains of a
fiddle and guitar. Needless to say everyone
was democratic and no social lines were drawn
whatever, for each had one thing in common,
thats homesteading in a new land.On a certain week-end one of the girls and
I made plans to make our first visit to the store.
Packing our saddles with all the necessary
paraphernalia, we ventured out, fording the
river for the first time and reaching the store
at sundown. Several rushed out to greet us
while others came to care for our ponies.The following day just about noon time I
walked out to the hitching posts to join in the
welcoming a few other new comers. In the
group were two Indian girls, but of the
educated type, one having attended the Carlisle
Indian School. Her sister was voted Queen of
the Prairies because of her beauty. (Her por¬
trait appeared on the cover-leaf of a last years
Spring number of Colliers Weekly.)We chatted first of one thing and then an¬
other when finally the subject of good horses
came up.I have the finest little race horse in the
country, I exclaimed with no degree of re¬
serve I fear.What, your horse a race horse? quoted
the Indian girl.Yes, indeed, and then a few of my en¬
thusiasts yelled, Ill wager on her horse. See,
it is built for running.
Source: http://indstate.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/isuarchive/id/32662
Collection: Indiana State University Archives

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