Snap: A legend of the Lone MountainPhillipps-Wolley, Clive
General
Snap: A legend of the Lone Mountain
Phillipps-Wolley, Clive
Canadian Rockies (B.C. and Alta.) -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Mountaineering -- Fiction
'By George,' cried Snap, 'come up. Why, I say! Atkins, I'm bothered
if I can carry it,' and, indeed, as Atkins knew very well, the green
skin with the head on was more than anyone but a strong man could
pack with comfort. However, between them they got it through the
timber to the 'crik,' as Tony called a small stream by which he had
tied up their horses.
'But where is Tony,' asked Snap, 'and the cattle?'
'What, the cows, you mean?' asked Atkins.
'Yes.'
'Why, bless my stars, you don't suppose that Tony is such a tarnation
fool as to let them critters stop to smell this here skin, do you?
Wait till you see what our cayouses say to it,' Atkins added. 'Now
then, steady, will you, quietly,' he said, approaching his own pony.
'Here, Snap, get in front of him and don't let him look round,' he
added, and as Snap obeyed him he slipped the rolled-up skin behind
his saddle, lashed it firm into its place, and leapt into the saddle
as with a snort and a bound the pony shook itself free from Snap's
hold.
Then Snap saw some real riding for the first time. Perhaps that pony
never got quite six feet off the ground, and perhaps he had not
lunched freely on earthquakes, but, to see the way in which he
performed, you would have thought so. First, down came his nose
between his knees, in spite of his rider's strong hands and the cruel
curb; out went his heels like twin cannon balls; and away he went
over the prairie, travelling apparently all the time on his forelegs,
when he was on the ground at all, which was not often. Really, it
did not seem possible that his limbs should remain united. No
muscles, you would think, could stand the strain of those furious
bucks and kicks. Every moment Snap expected to see the strange
figure part in flying fragments, the legs one way, the body another,
and Atkins in a third direction. But, though for the second time
since his arrival upon the prairie Snap himself got unseated, the
cowboy sat tight until he was out of sight of our hero, who, having
luckily stuck to his bridle, managed to recover and remount his
horse, which had become almost as unmanageable as the one which
carried the bear-skin.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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