Tall Tale From a Previous Folklore Student:
Although the student might have recycled a once popular joke, I think he
did an excellent job--and it sure does qualify as a tall tale about how
tough the old cowboys were!
The Hat
Winter can come early in the high sierras, and I remember one year in particular
when the first snow surprised everyone arriving in mid-September before the last
day of summer. It started snowing tightly around noon and by nightfall the flakes
were the size of silver dollars. It's not unusual to have an early storm in the
mountains but this one was a real doozey. By morning there was three feet of snow
in the yard and if anything it was snowing even harder than the night before.
It snowed like that for another two days and two nights without surcease. Finally
on the fourth morning the day broke clear and cold, and since the roads were still
buried I took my mountaineering skis out of summer storage and headed for the
high meadows for the first ski of the season.
I had spent several hours climbing up the canyon when I came upon a wide treeless
expanse where I could really kick out. Picking up speed across the meadow I spied
something lying atop the snow. Curiosity got the best of me sol veered over and
found myself standing over a battered cowboy hat. I knew a few of the cowhands
who ran cattle up here having swapped lies with them at the local bar, so I thought
it might be fun to stash it away until the crew came back in the spring. I reached
down and picked up the batter
ed
old chapeau and to my surprise beneath it was the top of someone's head. Thinking
that some poor fellow, perhaps even someone I knew, had frozen to death during
the blizzard I scooped some of the snow away from the face. When I had it uncovered
down to the bridge of his weathered nose the eyelids popped open and looked up
at me. I jumped right out of my skis landing ten feet back down the trail, and
it was about ten minutes before I screwed up enough courage to again approach
the fellow. He looked like he wanted to tell me something so I brushed away some
more of the snow until I had his mouth uncovered. He spoke to me through chattering
teeth. "I 'm sure glad you came along partner I'm about froze stiff."
I gave him a sip of brandy from my boda-bag , and this seemed to revive
him some so I started digging him out of his icy tomb. The snow was packed
so tight around him that I soon realized it was a waste of time trying
to extricate the man with my bare hands. I stepped back panting to survey
the situation, and after catching my breath I told the old cowhand that
I was going back to the house for a shovel so I could free him. He looked
up at me with a peculiar grin and said. "You had better bring back some
help friend cause I'm riding a horse and herding up the last of the strays."
