Black Hills (S.D. and Wyo.) -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Fiction
Molly had run forward and fallen on her knees before the 'coon. She
was delighted with his grizzled, round body, with his bright eyes, his
sharp little nose, the stripes across his back, his bare, black hands,
almost human, and above all with the clean, fresh woods-smell that is
characteristic of such an animal when not too closely confined.
Finding him quite gentle, she took him in her arms. Jacques proceeded
at once to investigate busily the recesses and folds of her dress.
"He seeks for sweetmeats," explained the old man, who was looking on.
From Jacques they proceeded to Isabeau, the lynx. Isabeau spat a
little and looked askance, but under reproof permitted a dainty pat on
the tips of his tasselled ears. Patalon, the great clown bear, was
good-natured, but rough. He desired to be rubbed here and there, he
wished affectionately to return this young lady's attentions with a
mighty hug. He smelt rank of the wild beast. Molly returned soon to
little Jacques.
"How did you get them?" she asked, tapping the end of Jacques' nose to
see him wrinkle his face.
"It is not difficult. One captures them young, when they are mere
cubs; and so, although they never will lose their wild instincts, they
become as you see them."
"But the mothers----?"
"Ah, that is the pity," replied the old man simply. "Sometimes it
becomes necessary that they die."
Molly looked on him with new wonder, this slayer of bears and wild
cats, who nevertheless appeared so gentle, whose eye was so mild. It
was indeed a marvellous world. She forgot the Kid and the hunting
party, and gave herself up to the pleasure of the moment.
From the pets they wandered to the flowers. These interested Molly
exceedingly, for she herself was struggling with the boxes of
geraniums. It was fully half an hour later when Molly finally said
farewell to her host and continued on down the gulch in the direction
taken by her little companion.
The Kid was waiting with all the heart-rending impatience of youth.
The precious time before breakfast was slipping away in futility. He
had made a sacrifice in taking this girl. Never would he do it again!
never! never! And then he saw her coming, and forgot everything except
his relief.
"Took you long enough to break away," was his only complaint as he rose
to conduct the party.
"Have we got time to hunt now? Ain't it 'most breakfast-time?"
inquired Molly dubiously. "Don't you think we'd better let it go for
this morning?"
"Lord, no! Come on! For heaven's sake don't let's waste any more
time!" cried the Kid with a gusty impatience that surprised his
companion. She did not realize the humiliated disappointment that had
this last hour seethed in the little breast. "I s'pose we might 's
well get up on the ridge," suggested the Kid, still grumbling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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