A Western Story

Jim Blanchard is a ve ter au prospector, who tells some queer stories of his experience in the west, and when in a talkative mood is always in demand. While sitting at the hotel the other ■evening he was the center of an interested crowd. One of the characteristics peculiar to travelers, in the mountains especially, being unquestioned veracity, no one would think of casting reflections upon the truthfulness of Jim's statements. He was telling of a trip froni Deming, N. M., on the Gulf in Lower California. He was accompanied by James Hanigan, a Californian. Everything went well until they got about 275 miles south of Deming. Here they halted at a spring. Blanchard tethered the horses, while Hanigan prepared a meal. As they expected to make a dry camp that night, Hanigan suggested that the water cask be refilled. To do so, Blanchard thought the handiest way would be to get the fmrro close to the spring and fill the cask without removing it from the burro's back. The burro demurred and threw Blanchard into the stream. In falling, he tore his trousers from the hip to the knee. Having neither needie nor thread, he took the bark of a willow sprout and sewed up the rent. Now, the Mexican willow has a peculiar nature, and in the wet season a young sprout has been known to develop into a good sized tree over night. On awaking the next morning Blanchard found a willow tree growing from his leg. The bark which he had stripped from the sapling had taken root and sprouted. There was a stifled gasp heard among the auditors which seemed to disturb the speaker's serenity for a moment. He looked inquiringiy for the cause, but not a word was spoken. "It's a fact, gentlemen," he concluded, "that there tree got so blanked cumbersome in two days that Hanigan was obliged to chop it down to relieve me."