[or-roots] The bridge that Nineveh Ford moved

[DAVIESW739 at aol.com]

Somewhere near the crossing of the North Platte, we camped at a place called 
Soap Springs. It  was a boggy place. Old Mr. Mills stepped into a sink hole 
and, as he said: "went in up to his hat band." Niniva Ford's big black ox 
blundered into one during the night. In the morning he was  found and pulled out 
before Niniva was up. He was covered, all but his head, with the thick blue mud. 
Niniva made a great fuss when he could not find his big black ox.

  Everyone else "hook up." There was a lone blue ox grassing about that no 
one seemed to claim.  Niniva was asked if it were not his. He said: "No my ox is 
black." Finally he was advised to take  it anyway, the owner perhaps had 
yoked up the black ox by mistake. There seemed nothing else  to do, so Niniva, mad 
as a hornet, went out to catch the ox, while everyone looked on and laughed. 
After a while Niniva laughed about it too, but he did not at first. He was 
still too mad at  the man that he thought had taken his big black ox.

Walt Davies
Cooper Hollow Farm
Monmouth, OR 97361
503 623-0460 
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