Lost in a cornfield
Two-year-old Ray was lost in a cornfield. There was a river nearby–and a lake and a creek, dangerous for a two-year-old who couldn’t swim. It would soon be dark. Nearly twenty people had joined in the search but had found no trace of the little boy. His mother pleaded, “Help us, Lord! Help us find him before nightfall!”
Finally, helpless to know what else to do, his father dropped the reins on old Nellie’s neck, grasped the saddle horn, and cried aloud, “O Lord, direct this horse to Ray!”
Instantly she started in a swift canter up along the creek bank. About a quarter of a mile to the north the creek made a loop, and here she started to leave the creek and follow a path across the field. Then the mare stopped dead still, as if an unseen hand had pulled on the reins. Nellie turned and walked straight into the thicket.
They were within twenty feet of Ray when his father saw him. But the horse didn’t stop until she could have touched him. There he sat, calmly stripping leaves off a stock of a switch cane. His little face was tear-stained, but he was unharmed. His father knelt beside him and offered a prayer of thanks. Then he put Ray on the saddle and swung up beside him. As the horse galloped, he called out, “Found! Found!” And the searchers relayed the happy news from one to another. As his mother, overjoyed, pulled him from the saddle, he called out, “Mama, big kitty! Pat big kitty!”
Many bobcats were found in southeast Missouri that year–1939. Could it be that the two-year-old had been in the company of a bobcat during those hours? His mother thought so. He talked about the big kitty for days.
–Marjorie Lewis Lloyd
Related posts:
No related posts.
