The Test: A Story

The Test P.Y R. S. BEAN, HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT OF THE BRIGHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY

It was the first real work they had ever done, and the Boy's heart was half-exultant, half-anxious, as he drew the lines over his young; team and noted their quick response to every word and touch. Would they stand the long strain? It was more than they should have been asked to do. This the Boy knew better than anyone else, but there seemed to be no alternative. For a year previous, the lad had been caring for and training these babies of his, who were yet hardly three years old. The mare was a fine gray, with a large frame well covered with muscle. Her eye, though kind, might have shown more spirit, and her ears were not as alert as was desirable. The Boy knew the signs and said "If she's ever over-done in her first year or two, she's no good any more." The horse, a sorrel, showed the same large frame, but his eye and ear indicated that he more than made up in courage what he lacked in muscle. "He'll work her to death and not be tired," prophesied the Boy "and she's better'n most of 'em." :

With much patience he made them familiar with the harness, having halter-broken them as foals. Then with fall seeding came first two, then three, then four hours a day on the drill, each working in turn at the side of a veteran who took the heavy end and the initiative. When winter set in, there was manure-hauling and starting with light loads and the old horse as a helper, each was taught how to pull the loads increasing in size as they gained ;

confidence in their own strength and their driver. Finallv the old horse was left out and the colts were hitched together. This meant light loading again while thev learned to know each other. Never were thev loaded so heavily that there was any doubt of their pulling it. Never were thev kept at work until over-tired. Gradually they showed signs of liking the har- ness and when spring came the Boy was boasting: ;

*A story banded in as an exercise in English. It illustrates well what Prof. N. L. Nelson insists upon as a cardinal principle of composition; viz.: that young writers should make experience the basic theme- material, and learn to trust and draw upon their own native feelings for color and emphasis. Editors.

"Hitch 'em to old Nebo, and I'll pull the earth backward!*' Little did he realize how soon the test was to come. Up at the head of the Sevier, the melting snows and spring rains were playing havoc. Swollen streams converging at the Hatch-town reservoir had broken its banks, and the released flood was rushing down the valley, inundating farms and threatening the mammoth dam a hundred miles below; especially as it was already severely strained under the unusual spring freshets. Higher each day rose the water, as anxious farmers watched the big em- bankment for signs of weakness. Finally a seep appeared, then a portion of the huge pile slipped, and a swift appeal went out for help. A call just at oat-seeding and harrowing time is not so readily responded to. Yet the crops of a thousand farmers below are in danger. A hundred teams are needed at once. The appeal comes home to the heart of every farmer within miles of the reservoir. "But, Dad," protested the Boy, "they're too young. It will pull them to death." "Go and do what you can. If they can't keep their place, pull out and rest them occasionally, or load lighter." So the Boy piled some hay and grain into the wagon, hitched up his pets, and started. The next six hours seemed interminable. The road was sticky and slippery, and the wagon, every rod or two, dropped into chuck-holes to the hubs. The colts had difficulty in keeping their feet, and the driver his seat. And to make conditions still more disagreeable, a cold, drizzling rain fell all day. The teams reached camp at last and the Boy busied himself for some time in caring for his darlings all the while crooning ;

a boy's love-song of mild chastisement. "Oh, you no-account mustangs You ornery crowbaits Ye ! !

think ye're fine, don't you? Proud of yourselves? Why, you cayuses ! You've got nothin' to be proud of. Whew but you're ;

dirty! For two cents I'd leave that mud on ye!" A note of affection in the voice softened the banter, and belied the harshness of the words and the expression on the Boy's ;

face, as he ran his eye over them during pauses in the work of grooming, showed an admiration and a love that only a lad can bestow on the first creatures he calls his own. Once, to a mis- chievous dig from the Boy, the horse responded with a playful nip. Again, as he scratched the mare's jaw with his fingers, she cease eating and, twisting her head to one side, lowered a muddy forehead at the same time. She was rewarded with a good massage around the base of each ear, just where a colt most likes it. "And you two plugs purtend to be good horses !Why, ye're not growed up yet. Ye're only babies, and I bet you're homesick right now."

Finally, between spells of loving and petting, he got them cleaned and blanketed. Then, while they contentedly munched their grain, he went to find himself some supper and a bed. Early next morning, while the rain was still drizzling, they toiled to and fro between chute and dam, slipping with every step, and occasionally dropping to their knees. The tongue worried their necks with never-ceasing jerks, as the wagon dropped into the numerous chuck-holes in the road. It was enough to dis- courage more experienced horses, and the Boy wondered at the way they responded, on the heavy pulls, to his clucking and kissing. But this was just a beginning. How long could the young- legs stand that terrible pulling? Some of the more thoughtless young drivers jeered at him, with his big team and small loads. But though he flushed with anger, he refused to load beyond their strength. The older drivers smiled encouragingly at him one or ;

two told him his colts were pretty good, and those men the Boy loved. When quitting time came that afternoon, the colts were tak- ing full loads, nor had they fallen back a single place in the line. Moreover, the Boy had the satisfaction of pulling by one of the scoffers, who now stood up on his load and lashed and shouted at horses which were already too bewildered to know what was wanted of them. The Boy was not an angel so he halted and said :

"Want me to pull it out for ye?" The driver declined with many thanks ( ?) and dumped his load where it stood. Then a friend gave him a roll on the wheel to help free the wagon. Thus ended the first day. But after being unharnessed, the grain. colts stood for some time without offering to touch their The Boy's heart ached, and his voice shook as he talked to them. "What's the matter, Andy, old boy? You're not done up by that little bit of plav, are ye? And you. Bird, shame on you, to sulk like this, jist 'cause we had to work a little. Come, get in on them oats thev'll taste mightv good ; tonight." After he had done considerable chiding and coaxing, slapping and patting them the while, they began to nose the grain around, and he went to his own supper with a light heart. The second dav promised to be better than the first. The sun dinner came out and the footing got a trifle firmer. But after again and the tracks were soon as bad fine rain began falling as ever. .... ,

Bv four o'clock the colts were showing indications ot weari- ness They took the hard pulls with difficulty. The careful placing of their feet was -one; they pawed the mud at random, time and when they stopped to slipping more and more all the :

breathe! there was a quivering of the muscles.

— :

"Steady, old boy. Come on, old girl. Take it easy. Only three more trips now," encouraged their small master, and they toiled on. It was the last load. Two scrapers coming close together across the chute had put on more than the usual amount of dirt. As the Boy pulled away, somone said "He'll never make it. Those colts are ready to stop right now." "That would be too bad," said a gray-haired driver. "The kid handles them well, and they are really fine." The Boy heard, and knew that his own heart was entertain- ing the same doubt. So he breathed them at the bottom of the first sharp pull, trying hard to steady his hand and voice with the usual slapping and crooning. Then "Come, Bird come, Andy," accompanied by a long-drawn ;

kissing. They took the pull with a rush. "Bad work, you cayuses !" remonstrated the Boy as they rested at the top. "That's no way to pull. Take it easy now." They moved on and started the next pull. Just at the crest the mare slipped and both front feet went into a hole at once. She struggled to regain her balance, leaned over against the tongue, and turned the front wheels out of the ruts into mud, stiff and sticky, and reaching almost to the hubs. The colts stopped and both leaned back in the traces, trem- bling in every muscle. The Boy's heart dropped like a chunk of ice. He seemed to realize that this was the end. At last the thing he had so long feared, had come they were discouraged and "stuck." :

But no !It could not be — it must not be ! They would pull it with a minute's rest. He got down from the wagon, patted and rubbed them, swore at them lovingly, picked up their feet and cleaned the dirt out of them, then rubbed their shoulders vigorously. Climbing back upon the seat, he gathered his lines and spoke. The horse started, but the mare made not a move. The fall had evidently taken the last bit of nerve out of her. By now a long string of loaded wagons were waiting for him to move on, and those going back empty had stopped to look on. However, as most of them had on their last loads and were intensely interested in the outcome, they cared little for the delay. "Better let us pull you out," said one. "They're done. You see she won't start." "Thanks but I want to know she won't," said the lad and :

got down again. He dug up the dirt under their feet, cleared it from in front of the wheels a little, pushed the horse back against the wheel,

and led the mare up as far as possible. Then he was ready for a last try.

"Steady now, Andy. Easy, boy." The horse leaned out in the collar. The mare feeling the weight, responded in like manner, refusing from force of habit to be so easily thrust back. "Come, Andy, come now." The horse crouched and leaned harder and harder, the mare gradually responding as the weight on her end of the evener increased. Now they were straining every muscle !

"Gee, now, Andy Get up, boy ! Bird don't you come back ! !

now !" They leaned to the right and the nigh front wheel moved in itsbed of mud. "Get down there, you cayuses !Take it away. Now !" A shout arose from the onlookers as the wagon moved, rolled back into the ruts, and went on its way. When the Boy was alone with his pets, he buried his face in their manes to hide the tears of happiness that involuntarily welled up in his eyes. The next morning was bright and clear. The work of the night shift had put the dam out of danger, and the water was slowly falling in the reservoir as it rushed out through the wide- opened gates. So the Boy did not go to work that day, but turned his pets toward home. Though their muscles were stiff from the strain, they responded to his voice and he knew that though sorely tried ;

their spirits had not been broken.

OLD "MORMON" FORT, NEAR FLAGSTAFF, ARIZONA