We had everything done
and were off to the dance by five o'clock. We went in sleds and
sleighs, the snow was so deep, but it was all so jolly. Zebbie, Mr.
Stewart, Jerrine, and I went in the bobsled. We jogged along at a
comfortable pace lest the "beasties" should suffer, and every now and
then a merry party would fly past us scattering snow in our faces and
yelling like Comanches. We had a lovely moon then and the snow was so
beautiful! We were driving northward, and to the south and back of us
were the great somber, pine-clad Uintah Mountains, while ahead and on
every side were the bare buttes, looking like old men of the
mountains,--so old they had lost all their hair, beard, and teeth.

VII

ZEBULON PIKE VISITS HIS OLD HOME

_December 28, 1909._

DEAR MRS. CONEY,--

Our Thanksgiving affair was the most enjoyable happening I can remember
for a long time. Zebulon Pike came, but I had as a bait for him two fat
letters from home. As soon as I came back from his place I wrote to
Mrs. Carter and trusted to luck for my letter to reach her. I told her
all I could about her brother and how seldom he left his mountain home.
I asked her to write him all she could in one letter, as the trips
between our place and his were so few and far between. So when she
received my letter she wrote all she could think of, and then sent her
letter and mine to Mothie and Phoebe, who are widows living in the
old home. They each took turns writing, so their letters are a complete
record of the years "Zebbie" has been gone. The letters were addressed
to me along with a cordial letter from Mrs. Carter asking me to see
that he got them and to use my judgment in the delivering. I couldn't
go myself, but I wanted to read the letters to him and to write the
answers; so I selected one piece of news I felt would bring him to hear
the rest without his knowing how much there was for him.

Well, the boys brought him, and a more delighted little man I am sure
never lived. I read the letters over and over, and answers were hurried
off. He was dreadfully homesick, but couldn't figure on how he could
leave the "critters," or how he could trust himself on a train. Mr.
Stewart became interested, and he is a very resourceful man, so an old
Frenchman was found who had no home and wanted a place to stay so he
could trap. He was installed at Zebulon Pike's with full instructions
as to each "critter's" peculiarities and needs. Then one of the boy