Evening Capital

UNITED AT THE LAST.

PITIFUL TALE OF
AN EMIGRANT
FAMILY THAT PERISHED

The Terrible Blizzard of 1881 Had for
Some of Its Victims a Whole Family
Which Froze to Death in Dead Man's
Cove—Heroic Efforts of a Mother.

"That's Dead Man's cove right before
your eyes," said the old man as he point-
ed to a recess of half an acre in extent
in the southern face of the Little Rocky
mountains. "That's Dead Man's cove,
and you kin see the iron work of the
wagon lyin about when ye git closer.
When I first looked in here thar was
five human bodies lying dead in that
wagon. Me an my pard we dug a big
grave and buried 'em all together back
agin that cliff, thar whar the rocks is.
We piled the rocks that way so the
wolves couldn't git at the dead."

"But there is no headboard—no
names," I protested as I rode closer to
the spot pointed out.

"Couldn't be no names, 'caase we
couldn't find any," he replied, "and them
rocks is a gravestone as will last forever.
We'll git off and sit down fur a smoke.
and I'll gin ye the full particulars. I've
passed here a hundred times in the last
three years, and it allus gives me the
heartache. Poor husband—poor wife—
poor children!

"It was this way," he continued after
his pipe was alight. "Me and pard had
our shanty down the valley about a
mile. Plenty of emigrants in thar kivered
wagons used to come by this trail
and turn south into Wyomin, or keep
west into Idaho. They'd come five or
six families at a time, and they'd come
singly. Some of 'em would take sich
chances of Injuns, sickness, landslides,
starvashun and death as would make
your ha'r stand on end to think of. No
man kin begin to guess how many graves
thar be of men, women and children be-
tween the Dakota line and the west
branch of the Missouri river. I've
counted a hundred in a day's ride.

"Waal, one December mornin me and
pard woke up to feel that thar was a
blizzard makin ready to bust on us. It
had been coolish but pleasant up to that
time. We could tell by the feel of things
what was comin, and began to git ready
fur it. It was jest arter noon when a
woman walked into our shanty. She
was an emigrant. Right here in this
cove sho had left her husband and four
children to try and find some help. He
had-bin sick fur three weeks and was
little better than a dead man, and she
had bin drivin the team an takin keer of
things gener'ly. She orter to hev turned
back long before, but some fool of a
doctor had told the man he'd get well if
they kept on.

"They had got separated from the
party they started with, and had made
the last hundred miles alone. They
war out o' grub, hadn't a match left to
build a fire, and the woman knowed a
change fur the wuss was blowin up.
She was a frail, leetle womnan, and she
had gone through with nuff to down a
man, but she hadn't lost all her pluck
yit. As soon as she told us the story we
got ready to go back with her an bring
in the outfit. We made a start, but we
never got thar."

"The blizzard prevented, eh?"

"She did. She came swoopin down all
of a sudden, like some great bird droppin
from the sky. A fine snow begun to
fall, the wind started right in to blow a
livin gale, and I believe the thermom-
eter went from 45 degs. above to 10 degs.
below inside of half an hour. We hadn't
any with us, but the change was sudden
an amazin. You couldn't face that gale
to save your life. It jest stopped us and
turned us around before we had got fif-
teen rods from the house. As to the
cold, it jest paralyzed you. We had to
go back, and arter takin a big drink o
whisky all around and puttin on more
clothes we tried it agin.

"Me and Sam was as tough as b'ars
them days and could hev laid down in a
pond of water and let it freeze up with
us, but we couldn't buck agin that bliz-
zard. When we made the second start
we got about half way up here, the little
woman leadin the way all the time.
Then we had to stop. You couldn't see
three foot from your nose, and all of us
was freezin to death by inches."

"And you went back?"

"We did. The woman was deter-
mined to push on, and we jest had to
pick her up and carry her back. It was
only by the Lord's hand pintin the way
that we ever reached our cabin agin.
We had our ears, noses and fingers friz,
and an hour arter we got back water
friz solid in our cabin within five foot
of a roarin fire. The woman prayed to
God and appealed to us, but we knowed
it was no use. That was the blizzard o
1881, and I've heard men say it was 42
degs. below zero in this valley that
night.

The woman got nipped wuss than we
did, but her mind was on the family
back here. She was bound to come back
alone, but we stood her off till about
dark. Then she made a bolt fur it and
got away."

"And went to her death?"

"Jest as sartin as if she had jumped
off that cliff. The blizzard shet us in
fur three days. When we got out we
found her within twenty rods of the
cabin. She had friz to death goin that
fur. Of course we knowed how it would
be up here. The horses had been on-
hitched and turned out. They lay over
by that tree. The folks in the wagon
had crowded together and kivered up
with all the blankets, but all war stun
dead and as hard as rocks. They never
saw that fust night come down.

"Me and pard overhauled the wagon,
but we couldn't find anythin givin the
name of the family, and so, like hun-
dreds of others out in this kentry of
mountain and valley, Injun and wolf,
we kivered 'em in to sleep till the Lord
gits ready to call 'em fur judgment.
Seems awful that a hull fam'ly shonld
be wiped out that way, but they ar'
sleepin thar together, and I guess the
Lord'll know the spot even if thar is no
gravestun to mark it."—New York Herald.