No wonder the river seemed angry at such usurpation.
About two miles from town, upon the high bench-land which lay above the
waters in the river, stood a hut. It was built of unhewn logs, and had a
mud roof. Stretches of sagebrush desert reached in every direction from
it. A few acres of cleared land lay near by, its yellow stubble drinking
in the rain. A horse stood under a shed. A pile of sagebrush with ax and
chopping block lay in the yard.
Evening came on and still it rained. A woman often appeared at the door
of the hut, and a pale, anxious face peered out into the twilight. She
looked out over the bench-land and then up to the mountains. Through the
clouds which hung around their summits, she could see the peaks being
covered with snow. She looked at the sky, then again along the plain.
She went in, closed the door, and filled the stove from the brush-wood
in the box. A little girl was sitting in the corner by the stove, with
her feet resting on the hearth.
"I thought I heard old Reddy's bell," she said, looking up to her
mother.
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