Speaker 1: A race with an avalanche by Fanny Hyde Merrill. Over
a little town in the heart of the rocky mountains
floated a heavy cloud. A young girl stood by the
window of one of the pretty homes and watched anxiously
the sky above. As she looked, her brother stepped up
behind her. Never mind, Kate, he said, we'll have a
good Christmas if it does snow. Kate frowned. What is
the use of any more snow? It's four feet deep
on the ground now, and all the roads are blocked.
We can't get any Christmas mail. The sugar in town
is all gone. Only one cow to give milk for
the children. Not an egg to be had. We can't
even bake a cake. And just then white flakes came
floating through the air. Kate's exclamation was a doleful. There
it comes. It's too bad. Over near the large stoves
sat the father. As he heard Kate's distressed voice, he
came to the window. The doctor was a slender man
with kind eyes and gray hair. There were many lines
across his forehead, but most of them had been drawn
by care and thought, few by age, and none at
all by discontent. As he stood and stroked Kate's hair.
It was easy to see that the young girl was
the pride of his heart. Your mother, my dear, her
father said slowly, was always glad when it snowed at
Christmas time. She always said a real Christmas should be
a white Christmas. Tears stood in Kate's eyes, and Harry
turned away his head. He did not wish Kate to
know how desolate home had been to him since their
mother's death. Through the gathering snow, two heavy figures came
toward the house. Harry opened the door and saw two
strong men with resolute faces. Doctor wardle here, they asked.
The doctor stepped forward in spite of the storm. The
men lifted their caps as they saw his face. There's
a man hurt up at the mines, said the taller
of the two men. Will you come up, doctor, certainly,
said the doctor promptly, I'll come at once. The man
looked at the two young people. Doctor. He said, you
know the snow is sliding badly. It's a deal of risk.
The doctor nodded and put on his thick coat. Oh, Papa,
cried Kate, not to day, not you. We can't let
you go. In distress, she turned to the men. Can't
you get some younger man for such a hard trip.
The man looked troubled. I'm sorry, miss. We did try,
but his face hardening. No other doctor will go, and
the man is badly hurt. Poor Kate father and brother
had hidden their own grief over the mother's death and
striven to make her life bright. Now she could not
believe she could be put aside for any other call.
She clung to her father's sobbing Kate, he said, as
he took her hands, My work is to save lives.
But Papa, your life so useful. Save that, my dear,
who can tell which life is most needed? Besides, your
fears are foolish, dear, There's probably no real danger. I
shall come back safely. Never fear. He stopped with his
hand on her head, then satchel in hand, he went
to the door. As he stepped across the threshold, he
took Harry's hand, My boy, he said, you are like
your mother. I can trust Kate to you, and the
door closed. The three men plowed their way up the
street into the mountain trail that led to the mines.
Kate watched the figures grow small in the distance, till
the snow hid them from sight. The mighty hills that
shut in the town never looked to kate so high,
so silent, so unmoved as during the long hours of
that day in vain Harry planned diversions. She watched the
window with an anxious and a sorrowful face. Still the
storm raged, and as the twilight gathered, Harry could not
keep anxiety from his face and voice. Down in the valley,
the twilight fades early, and it was dark when a
heavy rat brought Harry to the door. There stood twelve
men and in their midst on a sled, an uncouth
mass of snow covered blankets where's father. Gasped Harry, staring
at the sled with its heavy burden, He said, we
were to tell you the storm was so bad he'd
stay up at the mine tonight. We're taking the fellow
that was hurt down to the hospital. Noble fellows, cried Harry,
with his face aglow, as the men set off again.
Those twelve men had brought that hurt fellow down the
mountain on a sled in this storm and darkness, over
four feet of snow. They face death every step of
the way for the snow is sliding all the time.
Kate stared at the fire but said nothing. Suddenly a
veil had been lifted. She saw not only her noble
father risking his life for others that was no new vision,
but the rough, the faithful miners, twelve of them risking
their lives to carry to greater safety, one poor, hurt,
perhaps dying man. And she All day long she had
brooded over her own selfish sorrow and anxiety, letting Harry
try to amuse her, but never thinking of his troubles.
With a flush of shame, she started up Harry. She said,
we'll practice a little to night, can't we, And Harry
brought out his flute and the music, with a face
of such relief and happiness that Kate's heart gave another
throb of remorse. The morning of the next day dawned
clear and cool. Gradually the sun rose over the mountains,
each moment touching into new glory, the light and shadow,
the color and glittering sheen of the vast snow covered hills.
Kate sang over her morning work and thought tenderly of
the new comfort she would bring into her father's life
from that day forward. Nine o'clock. It was before the
sunlight touched the town. In the valley, Harry began to
watch the mountain trail for his father. All day long.
The beauty of the hills glittered before the longing eyes
of Kate and Harry, but no father came down the
shining mountain path. At three o'clock, the sun went down
and the tints of sunset glowed upon the snowy heights.
Kate bravely struggled through the pretense of a meal. But
self control is not learned in a day, and by
evening Harry found her crying softly by herself. Kate, he said,
don't worry. Tomorrow, I'll go up the mountain and see
if father is still there. Harry started early next morning,
and Kate bravely watched him out of sight. We'll be
home for Christmas, he shouted back, for his spirits rose
with the prospect of something to do. He climbed to
the mines and found, to his dismay that his father
had started down early the preceding morning. The superintendent, having
watched him out of sight, well said Harry, I must
go down and get a party from town to search
for him. That is the best way, said the manager.
He said nothing of the danger Harry himself must pass through.
Danger was around them all. Harry was strong, active, and
skillful in the use of the snow shoes or skies
which he wore that day. The boy's face was saddened
by his fears for his father, but a resolute look
flashed into his eyes as he made ready for the
perilous trip. Just as he shot forward, came the thunder
of a blast of dynamite in the mine above him.
A shout went up, a snow slide, and a massive snow,
dislodged by the explosion, came crushing past a corner of
the shed containing the men, was carried away. The men
looked at each other. Their escape had been narrow. Where
was the boy, who had just now shot forward in
the very path of the avalanche. It needed no shout
to tell Harry what the result of that report would be.
He had started, and almost at that instant the snow
was on his track. There was no chance for turn
or thought of pause. His only chance for life was
to reach the valley before the avalanche. Over the shortest,
steepest descent, he flew, the wind cutting his face all
thought merged in one fire of effort to fly faster, faster,
and fast. He skimmed the glittering snow till he shot
like an arrow from a bow into the plain below,
and fell headlong, covered by the frosty spray at the
edge of the spent avalanche. The breath seemed pressed out
of his body, and for some minutes he did not move.
Then a shout came through the air, and he lifted
himself as a band of miners came flying down the
mountain toward him. They came on snow shoes from the
mines above, and were overjoyed to find the boy alive.
He beat the snowslide, they ejaculated, and Harry a hero
from that hour, was escorted home in triumph. At the
door stood Kate, and back of her the Good Father,
safe and sound. On his way down from the mine,
the doctor had been hailed by a man who lived
in a little cabin sheltered in the mountain side. The
man's child had broken an arm, and by the time
everything was done for his relief, the short day was
so far gone that the doctor was obliged to stay
all night that Christmas Eve, as Kate and Harry and
their father stood watching the stars glow and sparkle in
the Keen Mountain air. Kate put her hand on her
father's arm as she said, there won't be much for
Christmas tomorrow, but any other happiness that could come to
me would seem very small after having you and Harry
given back to me, My dear, said her father. Since
the Christmas angels first sang peace on earth, good will
toward men, the best gift that can come to any
of us is an unselfish heart and of a race
with an avalanche. By Fanny Hyde Merrill