--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Anderson, Nephi collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 10 number: 11 published: 1907-09 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Nephi Anderson, "When the Stove Smoked: A Story," *Improvement Era* 10, no. 11 (September 1907): 882–888.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera10011unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera10011unse start_page: 882 end_page: 888 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1907-09) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera10011unse publication_year: 1907 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1907, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # When the Stove Smoked: A Story WHEN THE STOVE SMOKED.* BY NEPHI ANDERSON, AUTHOR OF THE "CASTLE BUILDER" "MARCUS KING," "ADDED UPON," ETC. The old stove was surely out of commission. At the party the night before, some dancers had knocked it down, resulting in a lot of bent stove pipe and a broken iron leg. It was the evening for the deacons' quorum, and the boys were trying to straighten out the piping and substitute a brick for the missing leg. They had barely succeeded before the time for the meeting arrived. A fire was hastily built, but the smoke, refusing to escape through its accustomed channel, poured from the stove into the room There was a good deal of coughing and sneezing when the bishop came in. He stood for a few moments looking at the scene, and then said: "Boys, there's a nice, warm fire over to our house. If you will all come over with me, we will adjourn this meeting until next week." The boys were more than willing. The room was cold and smoky, and soot covered the floor and seats, as also the faces and hands of some of the boys. The boys needed not a second invitation to visit the bishop at his home — they had been there before. A few minutes later, ten expectant boys sat around the bish- op's large dining room table. The sootiest of them had washed in the kitchen sink, and their faces shone clean and red in the lamp- light. The fire in the grate threw out a cheerful warmth. The boys felt and looked cozy. * The associate editor of the Era says that a tit'e should not suggest the na- ture of the story. — N. A. WHEN THE STOVE SMOKED. 883 "It happened when I was a boy about the age of George, here," began the bishop, "when we lived upon the Weber river, and shall never forget it as long as I live." The bishop stopped, took from his inside coat pocket a pack- age of letters, and began looking them over. One of the boys, fearful that the bishop would not go on, asked, "Forget what?" The bishop smiled as he took a letter from the handful, looked at it a moment, and then laid it on the table. "Oh, I'll tell you about it," he said. "This letter is from Thomas Mason, a boyhood friend of mine, who is now on his second mis- sion to Great Britain. He mentions the incident of many years ago in his letter, and I thought you boys would be interested in it." There was a chorus of affirmatives, as the boys drew their chairs close to the table. The bishop sat at the head in the easy chair, presiding, as was his wont and duty, at a meeting of the deacon's quorum. "My father was a farmer," said the bishop, "and as I was the only boy, I learned early to work. The horses were my special charge. I had to turn them out and get them home again. Across the river from our place the hills come down close. Small streams had cut their way through, forming a number of gullies. These at their lower part where they joined the river formed small, level plots, covered with brush and grass. In summer, when I turned the horses out over night, I could usually find them in one of these small valleys in the morning. "One spring day— I remember it was about noon, for I was hungry — crossed the foot bridge which spanned the I river. The river was very high that spring, and the frail bridge was in dan- ger of being washed away. The river was also filled with railroad ties. have to explain that the ties were cut up in the moun- I'll tains and floated down on the high water. It was quite an event in our boy-live when the 'tie men' came down the river in their red flannel shirts and big boots, dislodging the ties from the many jams which they made, sending them floating on down the tur- bulent stream. "I did not find the horses on the nearest plat, so I climbed 884 IMPROVEMENT ERA. over the ridge to the next hollow. From the hill I saw, not my horses, but a big Indian encampment. It was the biggest I had ever seen. Wigwams filled the narrow valley and horses were picketed all around. "Usually, I was not afraid of Indians. Everv year a band of them camped somewhere along the hills, or in the meadows by the river, and we boys used to visit them frequently. The squaws made daily trips to the village, begging for 'biscuit,' and selling bead- covered moccasins. The Indian men were a lazy, shiftless lot. They did some hunting in the nearby mountains, sometimes bring- ing to camp a deer, which they turned over to the squaws, who dressed the hide and cured the meat in the sun. "I stood looking down on that camp for some time. There had been rumors of an Indian outbreak on some reservation; that many of them were coming this way; that these Indians were not so civil as they might be, etc. I had listened to these tales as told at the village store, and they had made an impression on me. I had also heard that Indians were great horse thieves. "I decided that I must find my horses as soon as possible. I went down the hill into the camp, a little timidly, I must confess. There was considerable bustle about the camp, as though it were about to move, though it could not have been there very long. The dogs barked at my approach, and the squaws scowled at me — or at least I imagined that they did. I knew some of the Indians that made yearly visits to our locality, but I did not recognize any in the groups that were lounging about. "In one tent which I approached, a number of buck Indians were playing some kind of game, which, I have been told, was gambling. I stood at the tent door looking at them for a few minutes when one of the ugliest of them looked up at me and with a grunt said: M 'What want?' "I explained that I was looking for my horses. Had they seen any not their own? " 'No seen horses,' said the Indian — 'you git.' "I got away from that encampment as I were not though afraid; but to tell the truth, I was. I saw no horses that looked like mine, though there were some in the brush that I could not see. WHEN THE STOVE SM1KED. 885 "I searched nearly aU afternoon for my horses, but did not find them. Evening was coming on, but I did not like to go home without them. Coming back by way of the encampment, I found that it had gone,— tents, horses, bucks, squaws, and half-naked papooses,— all had disappeared, and there was the beaten-down grass, and the ashes, not yet cold. "A great fear came to me. The Indians might have my horses! What could I do! All sorts of notions went through my mind. Though out of sight, the Indiars could not be far away, and I their route by the marks made by the could easily trace horses and the dragging tent poles. I had no clear idea what I could do, but I found myself following the plain trail around the foothills and down to the river. That I must get my horses was the uppermost thought in my mind, but how, did not occur to me. "I must have run along the trail for some time, for soon I saw a cloud of dust in front. Boys, I had read no dime novels, and had no foolish ideas of adventure. I was simply engrossed in getting my horses, and, boy- like, I did not stop to reason on how to get them. "I followed those Indians for perhaps another half hour, and then the trail turned abruptly across the river. There wasn't much of a ford here. A horse could cross easily, but a small boy couldn't. was high and swift flowing, and ties came The river floating down in great numbers as though a big jam had recently been loosed above. "I imagined the Indians would camp on the other side, so I was bent on getting across. I looked up and down for some possible crossing, but I could see none. It was getting late, and thoughts of home came to me. I was tired and very hungry. "Down the stream a short distance, I found a big jau of ties. They had lodged against a big rock in the middle of the river, and by the aid of some drift wood on both sides, a bridge had been formed. stepped onto a tie and found it quite firm; I passed onto I the next, and then the next. My weight must have disturbed the nice balance in the bridge, because no sooner had I reached the rock in the midJle of the stream than a tie floated from the jam, and then another, and in a moment the whole bridge broke into pieces and went scurrying down the river. 886 IMPROVEMENT ERA. 'A good many ties still clung to the rock upon which had 1 I climbed; but the channels on both sides were filled with pitching, bumping timbers. I could not have crossed the swift- flowing stream, even had there been no danger from the floating ties. "I clung to the rock for some time, hardly knowing where I was. Then I began to realize that I was in the middle of the river,with rushing waters all around me, and the sky darkening overhead. I forgot there were horses or Indians. What could I do? I found a comfortable position on the rock, out of reach of the water, so that I was in no danger of being washed off; but there I was. I could do nothing but sit and wait. "But wait for what? remember the plaintive song of a I mourning dove from the hill, and it nearly made me cry. The shadows on the river were getting dark. I was a good distance from home, and the folks would never think of looking for me where I was — would I have to sit on that rock all night? "Well, what else could I do but sit and wait? The night grew darker. The day noises ceased, and the night noises were heard. I did not know before that there is such a difference between these noises. Every little sound startled me; that was because I was nervous. My feet we e wet, and I became cold. And, oh, how hungry I was! I thought of the folks at home, and wondered whether I should ever see them again. "I guess I cried a little, and then I said my prayers, not once as usual, but, I remember, I repeated them. I promised the Lord a good many things which I have tried to live up to. "The hours went on, but they seemed like years to me, I tell you, boys, a good many things came to me— the mean things which I had done, and the good things which I had not done. I recollect the blackest thing that stood before me was that the day before I had permitted my mother to get the wood which she had asked me to bring. It was, perhaps, not such a great wrong, but it loomed up before me greater than all the rest. "After awhile the moon arose. I watched the light grow behind the hills, and then a shining edge came to view. How big and bright that moon was when at last it sailed, full and round, into the sky! The water gleamed and sparkled in the moonlight, and the night lost its dreaded darkness. It was like the WHEN THE STOVE SMOKED. 887 coming of a dear friend, and I have always liked the moon from that night. "Very few ties now floated by, but once in a while one would lodge for an instant by the rock on which I was sitting. Then it occurred to me that I might float on a tie down the river. There- were risks, but anything was better than sitting all night on the rock. I received new life from the thought, and watching my chance, I slid off the rock and tie. I became wet got onto a through in doing so, but safely straddled a big tie, and in a moment I shot out into the stream. "Under different circumstances this ride might have been great fun, but it wasn't that night. I pushed away the ties that came dangerously near. Sometimes I could feel the river bottom grate under my feet, but I dared not get off my float, because of the swiftness of the current. Then I got into a deep, eddying pool. I floated round and round, making no progress down the river. I have no idea how many times I went around that eddy. My legs being in the cold water became benumbed with cold. I might have slid off the tie and tried to swim to shore; but there was great danger in that; besides, I was now getting weak and worn out, with very little energy or ambition left. ' That was a bad sign, 'Then I felt myself getting drowsy. but I did not know it. more comfortable than ever. Pres- I felt ently, in the still, night air, I heard some one singing. I awoke from stupor and listened. It was a girl's voice, and the song was one I knew — a Sunday school song. thought had never heard I I such a sweet voice — how sweet a human voice can be! And, by the way, I think that voice is yet the sweetest I ever hear. "Just then I left the pool and again shot out into the stream. As I came around a bend in the river, I saw a bridge and a wagon going across it. I shouted as loud as I could, and the wagon stopped. As I neared the bridge the current became stronger, and I came with a big bump against the side of the bridge. I felt a pain in my leg, and then there was a confused blurr. Just as I lost consciousness it seemed to me that the cold water went over my head." The bishop paused as though he was through with his story. He picked up the letter from the table, looked at it a moment, : 888 IMPROVEMENT ERA. folded it, and put it back in his pocket. The boys sat expectantly. The bishop's wife came into the room to put some coal on the fire, and he, reaching around, got hold of her arm and drew her up to his chair. "Do you remember, my dear," he said, "that night when you and your brother Tom dragged me half dead from the Weber river?" "I should think I do," she replied. "Well, say, haven't we a pan of apples for the boys? The stove smoked terribly over in the meetinghouse— a habit equally bad in stoves as in boys — and we don't like smoke; but we like apples — the big, red, juicy ones, mother," In a few minutes a heaping pan of apples was on the table, and each one helped himself. They munched away in silence for a few minutes, and one of them asked "Did the Indians steal your horses?" The bishop smiled. "That's right, George," he said to the boy, "never lose sight of the main point. No; the Indians did not steal our horses — at least, not for keeps. They were found standing at the corral bars the next morning, apparently having come home of their own accord —something they had never been known to do before." Salt Lake City, Utah.