r might have followed in the
footsteps of Paul Spintlum.

One day Cultus Johnny and his sister went across the river to fish. They
cast their nets directly across from the rancherie, beneath an
angry-looking, hungry, threatening, overhanging gravel bed. He and his
father and his father's fathers had fished there time out of memory. The
old men of the village were squatted here and there weaving nets for the
fishing season. Squaws were bringing in bundles of tree branches on
their backs for firewood; others were scraping the flesh from raw
deer-skins, stretched on frames which leaned against buildings. Some
young fellows, among whom was Hias Peter, were rolling up driftwood from
the river. Children were capering about, laughing and shouting. Dogs
were barking, cats mewing, roosters crowing. There was nothing but joy,
and peace, and harmony. It was just such a scene as may be witnessed on
a bright sunny day at any Indian village in the dry-belt at any time.
Suddenly there was a rush and a roar and a plunge of waters. The whole
mountain across from the rancherie had fallen into the river with one
mad roar like thunder, and the water was thrown up upon the village and
its helpless inmates. In a moment the peaceful scene was one of death
and torture. Men, women and children were struggling helplessly in the
water and trying in vain to reach the higher benches. At the next moment
the water receded and carried many back struggling into the channel of
the river. Hias Peter found himself, with others, struggling among logs,
timbers and debris of every description. Just before the water receded
he saw his wife and heard her yell for help. He seized her skirt and
dragged her to safety, clinging to a friendly sage brush. For a moment
Peter thought that, so far as he was personally concerned, she was
scarcely worth saving; but it is very unnatural to allow a fellow being
to drown before your eyes and make no attempt to save him. And perhaps
our worst enemy could rely on us for protection under similar
circumstances. But where was Cultus Johnny and his sister all this time?
The whole world lay on top of them, and that is all we know. They were
never seen again.

Mrs. Peter looked across the river and sighed.

Mr. Peter looked across the river and gave a grunt in his own language.

A million tons of earth were holding down Cultus Johnny.

Of the Booby Man

Once upon a time in Ashcroft there lived a "gink" who was very mu