Alexis Langlois, who manages a large farm, heard her neighbor crazily knocking on her front door on a Monday afternoon.

“There’s an emergency”, Amber Countryman yelled. “The horses are stuck in the water.” Langlois was struck with “absolute panic”. She threw on her winter boots — without socks — and rushed toward the small pond on the 80-acre property. She was surprised by what she saw: four horses were in the water up to their necks in 10 feet of ice water.

She immediately called 911.While waiting for help to arrive, “people just started showing up,” she said. “Neighbors were pouring in. People came with ropes, chainsaws, shovels and pick axes.”

“I grabbed a bunch of supplies,” said Countryman, whose two teenagers and their friend also as sited with the effort.

“It was-8℃that day,” she said, adding that she brought out handwarmers and water for the helpers.

Everyone was determined to get the horses out of the pond — which is about 15feetwide.

Beneath a six-inch layer of ice, the water was “just barely above freezing”, said Chris Yerkes, the South Kalispell Fire Department chief who rushed to the pond with about a dozen volunteer personnel.

When the firefighters arrived, neighbors had already attempted to pave a path through the ice toward the edge of the pond using pick axes, sledgehammers and shovels, and “we continued with that effort.” Yerkes said. Unfortunately, “as we got closer to the edge, we realized there was about three to four inches of mud.”

The thick layer of mud — which the rescuers couldn’t cut through — blocked the horses from climbing out. Firefighters enlisted additional support from Flathead County Animal Control, as well as staff from local equestrian organization Rebecca Farm.

“There had to have been at least 60 people here,” Langlois said. “It was very swift action on everybody’s part.”

It took nearly two hours to find a workable solution that could bring all four horses to safety.

To get the horses out, they used a powerful tractor (拖拉机) to get the animals out of the mud and ropes to pull them over the edge.

Her pale face stood out against the blackness of her hair. She looked much younger than her fifteen years, a worn coat hanging loose above her. We weren’t supposed to take a child, but an emergency call came through that morning. A home was needed for a young girl immediately.

I, together with four children, hurried to get her room ready. The kids were great. Joanne, our second-eldest daughter, did the cleaning and Margaret, Rob and Jeff helped make the bed. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. I was excited, but scared at the same time because I was told an adopted child might give us a lot of trouble.

That afternoon, Trudy arrived with the social worker Mrs. Kline. She stepped into the front hall and stood against the wall. I will never forget the look in her eyes. The first thing that came to my mind was that she looked like a hunted animal. The children moved towards her, and Jeff grabbed her hand and said proudly, “Come and see your room. I helped make your bed.” Trudy pulled back, speechless.

At this point, I stepped towards her and said, "Welcome to our home, Trudy. “She looked at me with such blank eyes. But with her head bowed, she simply said, eyes moving back and forth like a creature looking for a way out, “No, thank you.”

For the first two weeks, Trudy was very quiet. She would come into the kitchen while I was working, and we would discuss school and what she would like to do in the future. Mrs. Kline had given us all the information about her history, but I never mentioned the terrible things that had happened to her.

As the days went by, Trudy became a delight to have around. Very quickly, it seemed like she had always been with us. The girls would sit in each other’s rooms and giggle(咯咯笑) like typical teenagers. It was a sound that warmed my soul. However, when they talked about new clothes, Trudy fell silent again.

I took Joanne shopping for a winter coat, and Trudy came too.

Back home, I presented the jacket Trudy had tried on.

On Saturday, we gathered at the hall to witness the award ceremony for the senior scouts (童子军). Receiving an award on such a day was a great honor for any scout, and all desired to be the scout selected to give the summary of the year’s activities for the association.

I was not the one selected to give the summary and for that, I was grateful. I could hardly stand in front of a large crowd to make a speech, but Sean could. He was selected to do the honor because he was the President of the Boy Scouts for schools. My job was much simpler. Being the Vice-President, I was very much behind the scenes, content to ensure that everything was in smooth running order.

It was an hour to go before the ceremony began, and I had put the finishing touches to the stage. Walking down the stage, I saw my teammates in a state of panic. When they saw me, they ran to me to tell me that Sean met with a traffic accident and would not make it to the award ceremony. Someone else had to give the summary. All of them looked hopefully at me, and I could feel my knees beginning to collapse.

All their arguments against my unwillingness were valid. I had a copy of the speech as well as the benefit of having seen Sean rehearse (排练) it. I was the Vice-President and therefore should take his place. Finally, I was firmly told not to decline any longer and they said that they were convinced that I would do the right thing. I sank down onto the floor, totally shocked by the situation.

I knew I was not a confident speaker, and the thought of presenting a summary in front of so many distinguished guests horrified me. To think that the fame of the scouts would take a beating because of me! The burden of responsibility troubled me greatly.

But there was really no way out of the situation.

As I stood on the stage, my heart beat violently.

I was invited to a cookout on an old friend’s farm in western Washington. I parked my car outside the farm and walked past a milking house which had apparently not been used in many years. A noise at a window caught my attention, so I entered it. It was a hummingbird (蜂鸟), desperately trying to escape. She was covered in spider-webs (蛛网) and was barely able to move her wings. She ceased her struggle the instant I picked her up.

With the bird in my cupped hand, I looked around to see how she had gotten in. The broken window glass was the likely answer. I stuffed a piece of cloth into the hole and took her outside, closing the door securely behind me.

When I opened my hand, the bird did not fly away; she sat looking at me with her bright eyes. I removed the sticky spider-webs that covered her head and wings. Still, she made no attempt to fly. Perhaps she had been struggling against the window too long and was too tired? Or too thirsty?

As I carried her up the blackberry-lined path toward my car where I kept a water bottle, she began to move. I stopped, and she soon took wing but did not immediately fly away.

Hovering (悬停), she approached within six inches of my face. For a very long moment, this tiny creature looked into my eyes, turning her head from side to side. Then she flew quickly out of sight.

During the cookout, I told my hosts about the hummingbird incident. They promised to fix the window. As I was departing, my friends walked me to my car. I was standing by the car when a hummingbird flew to the center of our group and began hovering. She turned from person to person until she came to me. She again looked directly into my eyes, then let out a squeaking call and was gone. For a moment, all were speechless. Then someone said, “She must have come to say goodbye.”

A few weeks later, I went to the farm again.

I was just about to leave when the hummingbird appeared.

The dark sky, filled with angry, swirling clouds, reflected Greg Ridley's mood as he sat on the stoop（门廊）of his building. His father's voice came to him again, first reading the headmaster's letter, then lecturing endlessly about his poor efforts in maths.

“I had to leave school when I was thirteen. That's a year younger than you are now. If I'd had half the chances you have, I' d...And you want to play basketball? That must be some kind of a joke. Now you just get into your room and hit those books.

It was beginning to cool. Soon large drops of rain splashed onto his jeans. Down the block there was an abandoned house. Without much thought, Greg made a dash across the street and entered a room. Suddenly he heard a man's voice behind him.“What are you doing here?"

“Who are you?" Greg hardly recognized his own voice.

“I'm Lemon Brown," came the answer.

He was an old man. It didn't seem that he was dangerous. “You aren't looking for my treasure, are you?” he asked.

“No. It is raining out." Greg answered, smiling. “You have a treasure?"

"Every man has a treasure." Lemon Brown said, “You want to see mine?"

“If you want to show it to me," Greg shrugged.

The old man carefully untied the strings, and revealed some yellowed newspaper clippings （剪报）.

Then he started telling the story of his life. He was a famous blues singer in the past. His wife died young, and his only son went abroad to work.

“I gave him these newspaper clippings that told him who I was, and where he came from. One time I came home, there was a letter saying that he got killed in an accident. It broke my heart. They sent back these clippings. That was my treasure, and when I gave it to him, he treated it just like that, a treasure."

Lemon Brown put his rags in place and looked out of the window.

“You get on out of here and get yourself home," said Lemon Brown.

When Greg was walking in the street, the night had warmed and the rain had stopped.