In almost complete despair Field spent the night beside a fire under one
of those large cottonwoods which I have no doubt you will remember even
though it is now more than forty years since you saw them. He rose early
next morning and started out on the well beaten road towards the Golden
West, but had only gone a few hundred yards when he was agreeably
surprised to again behold the old ox approaching him, but so much
exhausted that it could scarcely walk. The same, or some other, wolf was
near by, and had probably followed the poor old ox all night. When the
ox came close to Field the wolf growled and again turned away as on the
evening before. After the wolf had left the ox seemed to be relieved.
It then occurred to the starving emigrant that he had a sharp razor in
his "kitt" with which he knew he could cut those tough tendons, provided
he could get another hold on that tail. Field, as you probably remember,
always kept his face cleanly shaved. Even while we were starving he
would shave almost every day. The ox was tired and worn out and so was
Field; but he got the razor ready and soon had hold of that tail again.
Off went the ox, the keen razor was applied, soon the tendons parted and
down went the ox. But only half the victory was won, for the ox would
raise up on his front feet and show fight; but after resting awhile the
would-be victor rushed up, caught the poor beast by the horns, pushed
him over on his side, held him down and cut his throat.
Pages:
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366