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down
and built upon them a fire.
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"I rolled the man upon my bed, and the night long I kept the fire going, and
I
was alone so I talked to him. I talked to this man. I told him he was a lot
of
trouble to me. I told him there was a nice warm cave above and because of him
I
had to sit in the cold. I told him the only decent thing to do was to live.
"It was very cold ... mucho brio, senor. I shivered, swung my arms, danced in
the snow, but most of the time I collected wood. There were fallen trees on
that
slope. And just a little way from there was a tangle of branches.
"I tried to climb up again, but it was too slippery from other climbs, so I
went
into the tangle and pulled myself up from tree to tree. Then I made a fire in
the cave. I must think of my horses, senor. They were good horses, mine and
the
hurt man's horse, and it was not their fault they were in this cold place. I
built a fire up there, and then I climbed down, and my fire down below was
almost gone. Again I put fuel on the coals, and it burned up.
"I looked at the man. I felt his arms and his legs. I moved them. Nothing
seemed
broken, so only the head was hurt. I knew the man's face."
"Who was he, viejo? Who was the man?"
"It was Petgrew. And he did not die. He did not waste my time. He lived,
senor.
By morning he was a little rojo. His face, senor, was flushed, and his breath
was better."
"You saved him, then?"
"Ah? It was the good Lord who saved him, senor. I sat by him and kept the
fire
warm. I kept the fire for the horses, too. Up and down, up and down ... it
was
the longest night, the coldest night, and I was afraid all would die. The
man,
the horses, me.
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"We were high up, senor. Perhaps ten thousand feet. You know what it is ...
the
cold."
"And the man? Where is he?" I paused. "What became of him, viejo?"
He put a trembling hand on my sleeve. "He did not leave us. He is here."
CHAPTER XIII
Morning lay bright upon the town when we rode out of the streets of San Luis.
The sky was a magnificent San Juan mountain blue, with puffs of white cloud
scattered about.
Sunlight touched the snow upon the distant peaksv and as we rode there were
no
sounds but the beat of our horses' hooves and the creak of saddle leather. We
four rode out with Esteban, rode west to the little ranch on the Rio Grande
del
Norte.
It was an adobe house with projecting roof beams a comfortable house of
several
spacious rooms, a long barn, corrals, and a few fruit trees.
As we rode into the yard a man limped to the door, using a cane. He wore a
six-shooter rigged for a cross-draw. He was a stocky man with a round,
pleasant
face, red cheeks, and a tuft of gray hair sticking up from the crown of his
head. His eyes went to Esteban and he waved. "Buenos dias, amigo!" he said
cheerfully. " 'Light an' set!"
There was a measure of caution in the glance he gave us, and I thought his
eyes
lingered on Orrin's face, then mine.
It was cool inside the house. "Set," he said. "I am Nativity Pettigrew,
Connecticut born, Missouri bred. Who might you be?"
"I am Orrin Sackett," Orrin said, "and this here is my brother, William T.
Sackett." He introduced the Tinker and Judas, then sat down.
"Mr. Pettigrew, you were with my father in the mountains?"
Pettigrew got out his pipe and loaded it with tobacco. He turned his head
toward
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an inner door, "Juana? Bring us some coffee, will you?"
He glanced around apologetically. "Don't like to be waited on, but with this
game leg I don't get around so well no more." He tamped the tobacco firmly.
"So
you're Sackett's boys, are you? I heard tell of you a time or two, figured
soon
or late we'd come to meet."
A pretty Mexican woman entered with a tray of cups and a coffeepot. "This
here's
Juana. We been married nigh onto nineteen year."
We all arose hurriedly, acknowledging the introduction. She smiled a soft,
pretty woman, and very shy.
"We're tryin' to find out what become of pa," I explained. "Ma's gettin' on
in
years, and she's wishful to know."
He smoked in silence for a moment. "It ain't as easy as you think. I took a
rap
on the skull up yonder and my memory gets kind of hazy. I do remember that
Baston, though, and Swan. Must've been one of them hit me.
"My horse spooked. Maybe they hit him, burned him, I don't know what. Anyway,
he
was always a nervous one and he just jumped right out there an' fell. Last
thing
I recalled, until several days later when I come to in the snow with that old
Mexican he's Juana's grandpa a-settin' by the fire, tendin' me like.
"Good man. Saved my life, so I just figured I'd never find better folks than
these, an' I settled down right here. Bought this place off kinfolk of hers."
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