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The Man From The Bitter Roots (Fiscle Part-X)

User: disha
The     Man From The     Bitter Roots (Fiscle Part-X)
The Little White "Digger," Galloping With The Stiff, Short-Legged Jumps
Of The Broken-Down Cow Pony, Stopped Short As The Boy Riding Him Pulled
Sharply On The Reins, And After Looking Hard At Something Which Lay In A
Bare Spot In The Grass, Slid From Its Fat Back.

He Picked Up The Rock Which Had Attracted His Eye, And Turned It Over
And Over In His Hand. His Pockets Bulged With Colored Pebbles And
Odd-Looking Stones He Had Found In Washouts And Ravines. There Was No
Great Variety On The Iowa Prairie, And He Thought He Knew Them All, But
He Had Never Seen A Rock Like This.

He Crossed His Bare, Tanned Legs, And Sat Down To Examine It More
Closely, While The Lazy Cow Pony Immediately Went To Sleep. The Stone
Was Heavy And Black, With A Pitted Surface As Polished As Though Some
One Had Laboriously Rubbed It Smooth. Where Did It Come From? How Did It
Get There? Involuntarily He Looked Up At The Sky. Perhaps God Had Thrown
It Down To Surprise Him--To Make Him Wonder. He Smiled A Little. God Was
A Very Real Person To Bruce Burt. He Had A Notion That He Kept Close
Watch Upon His Movements Through A Large Crack Somewhere In The Sky.

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