--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Miles A. Romney collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 24 number: 6 published: 1921-04 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Miles A. Romney, "Providential," *Improvement Era* 24, no. 6 (April 1921): 519–521.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2406unse 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: improvementera2406unse start_page: 519 end_page: 521 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1921-04) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2406unse publication_year: 1921 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 1921, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Providential Providential By Miles A. Romney So many incidents have happened during my life which indicate to me clearly that Providence has been mindful of my existence, and has taken special interest in my affairs, that I with pleasure accede to request, and submit the following, which may be of interest to some of the readers of the Improvement Era. In the fall of 1896, I, in company with 0. P. Brown, went in to the state of Sonora, Mexico, to purchase a herd of Sonora cattle. Traveling through the pine-clad vales and over the lofty peaks of the Sierra Madre Mountains, we stood on the continental divide above Dos Cabesas (Two Heads), from whence we could follow the narrow trail which winds its way to the depths below, through crags and peaks along the sides of cliffs. One step to right or left would hurl rider and beast into space. Afar off we could see a straggling streak of silver winding its way towards the Pacific Ocean. This we knew to be the Bavispe river. Starting at sunrise from our camp in the clouds, by the setting of the sun we stood on the banks of the river, along which, a little lower down, tropical fruits were ripening. Crossing this river, we climbed the winding trail to the village above. The mud-colored adobe houses, relieved occasionally by one with a whitewashed front, squatted in box-like fashion upon the village mound. In the center of this little town of Bavispe was the plaza^ or public park. Disposing of our animals, we were crossing the plaza to a little resturante, when towards us came bounding a large white dog with a black spot besmattering one eye, his tail beating the appeal which his eyes bespoke. Passing my companion, he instantly claimed me as his master, and turned to follow me back to our eating house. Evidencing his joy, in finding me, with frequent bounds and barks, his admittance was contested, but with determined growl he evaded his assailants and crept beneath my table where he looked up gratefully as I slipped him bits of chili and tortillas. That night he slept close by. When I awakened, old "Spot" sat looking at me, eager to obey every command. With an early start we were off to the south. The dog followed determinedly behind. A day or two later my companion parted from me, but the dog paid no attention. ! 520 IMPROVEMENT ERA Arriving at the little town of Guaseguas I went into the patio of Don Binancio Durrazo to make a contract for some cattle. As I came out, I perceived a rough looking peon slinking away from my outfit. With a hoarse growl the dog crept after him, the hair rising stiffly on his neck. As the sun had not yet set, I continued my ride toward a town over the mountain, about twenty-five miles distant. Soon the moon shone forth clear and bright, as only southern moons can shine, and I found myself riding on and on, mile after mile into the fastnessses of the mountains. I came on my way, to a little hill. In the trail up this slope a number of rattle snakes had taken possession of the way and seemed to be enjoying the moonlight. At the approach of my horse they rattled warningly. Giving them the trail, I found my way up the hillside through the brush. Reaching the top, I decided that man and beast had traveled far enough for that night. Unpacking my mule and horse I crept in between the blankets. The footsore dog kept silent watch at the foot of the bed. Out of the heaviness of sleep I was suddenly awakened by the dog, as with growl of rage he sprang upon something bent menacingly above me! That picture has so inscribed itself upon my mind that, though twenty-five years have intervened, I can see it now just as vividly as I did that moonlit night on the Sonora mountain! It was the peon I had seen loitering about in the plaza of the town behind. The moccassins on his feet, the white, loose-fitting trousers, with the red sash lashed tightly about the waist, a red cotton handkerchief loosely tied around his neck, a huge sombrero pushed well back on his head, and held in place with a black cow-hide string about his throat, a gaunt black face, every feature of which was distorted with a lust for blood and gold, his body leaning forward, and a huge knife grasped in his back-drawn hand, glinting back the moonlight, pointed at me, and dangerously near, — all this was the impression of a second's time. I sprang backwards, rifle in hand, just as he gave the last lunge and brought the knife downward to take my life It is almost unbelievable, the rapidity with which thoughts can pass through one's mind in supreme moments such as this, and reason safeguards one's act from rash impulse. My first thought was to shoot in self-preservation. Reason said, "Home ties, friends, all your interests in Mexico, will have to be abandoned if you pull the trigger. A human life you are about to take." The cut-throat vented forth a screech of pain. Calling off the dog,I pointed the way down the mountain. "Vayese!" I commanded, adding in no uncertain words, that if I should see LIFE SAVED BY A FAITHFUL DOG 521 him again that night I would not spare him as I had this time. Eager for the opportunity to retreat, the native backed off. I could hear the echo of his hurried tread down the trail as I kneeled by the side of this most strangely faithful dog. "Well Spot, old fellow," I said "you have saved my life. Henceforth we are pals." His tail beat a joyous tattoo as I laid a hand affectionately on his head. During the remainder of the night man and dog kept silent vigil together. After a week's rest in Opposuri we started on the homeward trail which led over most precipitous ground. I found the dog weakening and falling behind. Lifting him on to the pack mule I tied him there, where he rode day after day. Arriving at the Williams Ranch, in the mountains near home, I left the travel-weary mule and horse, taking a fresh mount. As I rode up to Sister Dora Lunt's residence at Carales I noticed that the dog was not trailing behind, so I rode back the next morning, not only to the ranch, but miles beyond, but could find no trace of him. He had gone out of my life as mys- teriously and as suddenly as he had come, but not in vain! I was left with a more abiding faith, an additional testimony of the Father's watchfulness over his children. Colania Juarez, Chili., Mexico. Legacies What gifts have I made sure to those depending upon me for endowments? Will they, at maturity, step from the parental threshold with healthful bodies, efficient minds, and trained hands? Are their habits, habits of order, cleanliness and thrift? Have they lofty ideals? Do they know the dishonor of a lie, and the power of love? Can they plan? and, planning, will they struggle unto success? These prerequisites being vouch- safed, the handicap of an empty purse need not be feared!— Addie Savage Pace.