Polly of Pebbly Pit | Page 2

away over the distant
mountain-sides where Nature's creatures roamed unrestrained. And
then her eyes rested upon the pastures nearer home, where the farm pets
grazed. Every one of them, wild or tame, were her friends.
"Reckon Ah'll go now, Poll. What shall Maw do about the dinner?"
"Tell her not to bother about me. I'll wash the dishes' when I get back,
Daddy."
So Mr. Brewster started for the house and Polly settled herself in a
more comfortable position while crooning to little Noddy. As she sat
holding the little burro's head, her thoughts wandered back to the time
when Noddy was but three days old. The mother had died and left the
tiny bundle of brown wool to be brought up on a nursing bottle. To
keep the baby burro warm it had been wrapped in an old blanket and
placed back of the kitchen stove. Thus Noddy first learned to walk in
the large kitchen of the log ranch-house, and later it felt quite like a
member of the family.
Being such a sleepy little colt, the name of Noddy was considered very
appropriate but, as the burro grew older, it showed such intelligence
and energy that its name was a dreadful misnomer.
Noddy considered Polly her particular charge and followed her about
the place like a dog. And when the burro was full-grown, she became
the daily companion that Polly rode to school, over the mountain trails,
or about the farm.
The wise western burros are not half appreciated by folks who do not
understand their unusual intelligence and their devotion to their masters.
They will seek for water or edible herbs when lost on the desert or
mountain peaks and sacrifice life to save that of the rider's.
But Noddy's present condition was not due to sacrifice. Most of the

horses and burros at Pebbly Pit showed such an aversion to the
Rainbow Cliffs that they never grazed near there, although the luxuriant
grass made fine pasturage. These cliffs were the local wonder and gave
the farm its name. They were a section of jagged "pudding-stone" wall
composed of large and small fragments of gorgeously hued stones
massed together in loose formation, like shale. Great heaps of these
jeweled fragments, which crumbled easily from the cliff, lay piled up
along the base of the wall and sparkled brilliantly when the sun shone
upon them, or directly after a rain.
Noddy had been pasturing out the night before her accident, and at
sunrise found herself too near the tabooed cliffs. She lifted her ears
suspiciously, wrinkled her nose fearfully, and wheeled to run away to a
more desirable locality. But in that quick turn she loosened the shale at
the base of a steep descent. The treacherous rock slid and threw her
down. Before she could get up and away the great mass rumbled down
and covered her, but she finally managed to work her head free for
breath.
Jeb, out early to seek for stray cattle, saw the fresh slide and gazed
wonderingly at it. Then he spied the nose and hoof of a burro
protruding from the shale. He rushed to the barn where he had left Mr.
Brewster, and in a short time master and man had the tools and "cradle"
back at the spot, and Noddy was soon unearthed. She was unconscious,
and Jeb declared it was useless to bother with a burro so evidently far
gone. Even Mr. Brewster feared she was past help, but Polly insisted
that Noddy must live.
All that morning Polly sat holding the limp brown head while
whispering words of affection in the long ears, and who will say that
Noddy's instinct did not respond to love, even though the physical
sense of hearing was deaf to earthly sounds? She slowly revived and
was resting comfortably when the house-call came for dinner.
Mr. Brewster returned after dinner, bringing a bowl of gruel for the
burro, and Jeb followed his master to inquire about the patient.
"Jeb, you-all help me feed Noddy while Polly runs to the house for her

dinner," said Mr. Brewster.
"I'd a heap rather wait here and help with Noddy, Paw!"
"Oh, Polly! Maw told me to say there was a letter for you. Jim Melvin
stopped off with our mail he got at Oak Creek to-day."
"A letter! Who can it be from?" asked Polly wonderingly. "That's what
you must find out. It looks like a girl's writing and it is post-marked
Denver. Who do you know there?" replied her father.
"Denver? Why, nobody! I'll run and see who it's from!" cried she
eagerly, and Mr. Brewster smiled at the success of the ruse to get his
daughter away for a time.
Polly was a genuine child of Nature. Her life of little more than