--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Brian, Douglas collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 30 number: 2 published: 1926-12 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Brian, Douglas, “Ray Reed’s Escape,” *Improvement Era* 30, no. 2 (December 1926): 141–145." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3002unse 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: improvementera3002unse start_page: 141 end_page: 145 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1926-12) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3002unse publication_year: 1926 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 1926, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Ray Reed’s Escape RAY REED'S ESCAPE By Douglas Brian As Ray Reed walked hurriedly along the streets of the village at midnight he had a grange feeling of unrest. Twice he was quite sure he had seen the brim of a large hat slip out of sight as he glanced at a corner. The little town of Johnsville was only three miles north of the Mexican border and large hats that flitted out of sight at a glance were not reassuring to a boy of sixteen. A few weeks before, a rumor of a revolution had casued a double guard to be (put around the small state arsenal at Johnsville. The revolution having failed to" materialize, at the time expected, the guard was gradually removed until one lone man remained to report any irregularities. As Ray rounded a corner he suddenly came face to face with a squat, burly Mexican. The Mexican stopped short, and then, with head down, walked past and hurried away. The public houses were closed for the night, the streets were deserted. Ray sensed trouble. Feeling (that he could take a course which would be compara- tively safe he decided to warn the guard at the arsenal. So, circling for several blocks, he presently came to a thick row of trees opposite the entrance to the large building where were stored rifles and sup- plies for the state militia. A dim light glowed from the front office and all seemed quiet. He stepped quickly across the street and as quickly into the office. For a scant five seconds he stood motionless. On the floor lay the guard heavily bound. Reclining at ease around the room were at least ten Mexicans whom he recognized as followers of one Pedro, outlaw, rebel leader and all-round bad man. Seeing these things at a glance, he turned with the hope of escape only to meet Pedro himself standing squarely in the doorway. "So, you are here — and I am here — eet ees good I watch you." Pedro spoke with a snap to his words which bespoke authority. At a few short words in Spanish the men silently filed out into the darkness. Pedro turned to Ray. "Well, hombre, eet break my heart to keep you from mama but war ees beesness — -make snap." As Ray stepped outside two large, gaunt hounds came sniffing at his shoes. One of the men, tugging at their chains, dragged them away and around the building. Ray remembered having seen them at {the house of a federal officer living at Johnsville. The old fox, Pedro, had stolen them to avoid the chance of being followed. The night having afforded not the slightest chance for escape, dawn found Ray, with hands tied, being dragged down from a heavily 142 IMPROVEMENT ERA loaded wagon at a Mexican rebel camp some twelve miles below the border. "Well, hombre," said Pedro, "first it is to feed ze dogs." And he calmly untied Ray's hands. During the next week, spent in a heavily guarded camp, Ray learned that his plight was indeed serious. In a newspaper which was brought from the border he read of the raid on the arsenal and learned that the United States authorities would await action by the Mexican government. That meant after the revolution was over. Mention was made of the theft of Jeff and Jerry, the marshal's blood hounds. In another part of the paper he read an account of the dis- appearance of Ray Reed, and an editorial note commenting on the ingratitude of boys who run away from home, without leaving a word as to their whereabouts. So, he was in the hands of Mexicans who were little short of bandits and cut-throats. They had the discon- certing knowledge that they could do with him as they chose, since not one of his people knew he was there. For three more long days Ray watched for the chance to escape, spending his time with the dogs and doing such work as he was forced to do. On the morning of the eleventh day of his captivity he arose to find the camp in great disorder. Horses and men were hurrying to and fro. A great clearing was being made at the side of the camp. The camp was doubly guarded. New faces appeared, under guard. Ray heard fragments of a story of the capture of a scouting party and of plans for their immediate execution. "Well!" Ray started violently. "You have feed ze dogs splendid for two week. Mebbe you like feed 'im some more — or mebbe not. If a wise robber steal something, he will bury ze goods before caught. I am one wise robber. Eet ees possible I am caught tomorrow so I bury ze goods tonight. For now, you can make snap to clear brush." Ray gave the dogs a final pat and walked toward the clearing. It was sometime before he was fully awake to the fact that he himself was the goods. As the thought finally took definite form in his mind he became stricken with panic. He grubbed brush madly for a time and then stopped altogether and hurried from place to place around the clearing as if to run for it, but a guard seemed to be ever in front of him. As the day wore pn he began to droop from mere physical ex- haustion. Thoughts welled up in his mind of home and parents and friends. He had seen them last at Mutual. He could picture them sitting there in the class. They had studied prayer. Prayer — he had always believed in it, why hadn't he been more prayerful? If he ever needed the help of the Lord it was now. Cautiously he crept into a clump of willows. At the jisk of being caught hiding, he knelt down. Ray had prayed sometimes before, but here in a rebel camp, with not a single earthly friend < RAY REED'S ESCAPE 143 or protector and death awaiting but an hour off, he fervently, tear- fully and from the depth of his heart, prayed. - Immediately his panic left him. He went back to work, his muscles became relaxed, they seemed rested; his mind became clear, and he began to evolve a plan. The willows and underbrush were being cleared from a large circle and piled in the center. As soon as the opportunity came he crawled quickly into the pile of brush. The final cleanup for the day was in progress and he was soon screened safely out of sight. A half hour he remained thus and when it became stifling he slowly crept toward the outer edge of the pile. For a time he was afraid he would never be ^ble to extricate himself, so heavy was the weight of boughs through which he had to crawl. When black hope- lessness stared him in the face he covered his eyes and prayed again — not aloud this time but with no less sincerity. Another supreme strug- gle and he was able to see the activities in the clearing. Enough of the commands and stray words of conversation reached his ears to acquaint him with the fact that they were making search for him. The rebels were Ideadly afraid to have him return to the United States with the story of his capture. It was dark enough now so that nothing could be seen clearly outside the clearing itself. If they would only leave he could tun from the brush and be comparatively safe until he reached the hills above the river. Men, however, kept running to and fro and often looked sharply into the pile of brush. His new-found security in prayer was the only thing that kept him from crying out in terror. Presently a sharp command was given from the edge of the clear- ing and the men set up a babble of comment on all sides. Soon they were all out of sight but near enough to be heard occasionally. Some plan was .evidently being perfected. Presently Ray felt urged to leave the brush pile. He started and then waited again. He seemed quite safe there and he would be any- thing but safe running across the clearing with guards on every side and the men not a hundred yards away. Again he had a strong feeling to leave the brush pile and before he hardly knew why or what he was doing he had crawled from his hiding place and was speeding toward the river. It seemed that a hundred eyes must be riveted upon him as he ran. He expected a bullet to stop his flight at every step, but he reached the edge of the woods along the bank of the river and no guard stopped him. When he glanced back the men were beginning to take places around the edge of the clearing preparatory to carrying out whatever plan they had made. ! He quickly waded the shallow stream and came to the rocky hill beyond. He wound his way along low down until he found a small, dry wash leading up. Into this he clambered and made haste for the top. In five minutes he had reached and hurried over the ridge. When 144 IMPROVEMENT ERA he raised his head and looked back, the brush pile in which he had felt so secure was one huge blazing mass. For an hour he sped over hill and hollow. He encountered no vegetation heavier than sage brush, but the ground was rough and the rocks bruised his feet and caused him to stumble as he ran. No sign of pursuit had been seen or heard. He settled down to a steady gait. The feeling of safety became more and more pronounced as the minutes went by without sign of anyone following. Once he thought he heard a low wailing sound and stopped short to listen but hearing nothing but the ibreeze rustling the dry weeds and sage he went on. Presently the sound came again more distinctly. Again he stopped to listen. He felt the blood leave his face and his knees tremble be- neath him. Faintly but distinctly his ear caught the low baying of the blood hounds. While in camp he had taken the trouble to make friends of the dogs, but blood hounds were blood hounds and instinct would send them ;on and on until they dragged him down. His mind became a whirling chaos. As he started again his limbs seemed helpless. Twice he staggered and fell, bruising and cutting his hands and !knees. Each time he scrambled to his feet and strug- gled on madly. A few hundred yards and he encountered a small stream whose banks were lined with thick brush and vines. If he could reach the stream he could perhaps evade the dogs for a time but the thick underbrush seemed impassable. His breath came hard. His heart pounded and he felt himself choking. The dogs would be upon him any moment. Their deep-throated sounds were terrifying. Reverently he dropped down once more upon his knees. To con- vey what he said and how he said it is an impossibility, but never was prayer uttered with more complete humility; never was voice more filled with pleading. The words uttered were few, the blessing asked was one, and the time before its granting was exceedingly short. He had no sooner regained his feet than the crashing of heavy bodies through the brush could be heard. He stood perfectly mo- tionless and waited. As the first dog appeared — "Jeff! — Jerry!" the dogs stopped. "Jeff! come here!" and a snap of his fingers accompanied the sharp command. For a moment the dogs stood puzzled, crept slowly to him and as he patted their heads they arose and licked his hands and wagged tails to show their friendship. Instantly Ray lashed them together with strong vines and, after working laboriously to the other side of the stream, led them on to- ward the border. The Mexicans had undoubtedly followed as far as they dared but the start Ray had gained while they were trying to burn him out of the brush pile was enough to make it impossible to find him in the darkness without the aid of the dogs. RAY REED'S ESCAPE 145 As he told his story in the village his friends stood in wonder at a boy of sixteen who, when doomed to execution, could practically run through the ranks of an army and, when pursued by blood hounds, steal the blood hounds and return them to their rightful owner. Ray accepted with complete humility the compliments paid him. And as time went on, with the recurring memories of his capture and escape, the spirit of prayer grew upon him. He had tried it. He had struck the spark and the light was burning. The more he prayed the brighter grew the flame until it became a living testimony. Ogden, Utah. Five Memories I'd Like To Have By a College Senior 1. I wish I could remember one Fourth of July, or one circus day, or 'one canyon trip, in which my father had joined us boys, instead of giving us the money and equipment to ,go, while he and mother stayed home, and made us feel guilty by working while we played. 2. I wish I could remember one evening when he had joined us in singing, or reading, or tussling, instead of always sitting so quietly with his newspaper by the reading lamp. 3. I wish I could remember one month, or week, or day even, when he had made purposeful work out of drudgery by planning the farm work with us, instead of merely announcing each morning what that day's work would be. 4. I wish I could remember one Sunday when he had bundled us all into the buggy and taken all to church together, instead of staying home while we went in the morning, and leaving us home while he and mother went in the afternoon. 5. I wish that I could remember just one talk in which we had discussed together the problems and facts that trouble every grow- ing boy, on which his clear and vigorous viewpoint might have shed such light and comfort, instead of leaving me to pick up the facts haphazardly as I might, and to solve the problems as best I could. And yet, my conscience would cry shame were I to blame him, for no man could ever be more devoted to his family, more anxious for their welfare, more proud of their successes. His example has been a beacon to us. He just didn't know — and there is the pity of it to me — he just didn't know that we needed him. He didn't know that we would rather have his companionship than the land he could leave us — that some day, maybe, we might make money for our- selves, but that never can we make for ourselves the memories that might have enriched and mellowed and molded our lives. I can't see a Fathers and Sons' outing without a lump in my throat. Logan, Utah