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BED RIDIlll G HOOD.

BY J0 KING.

Once on a time Red Riding Hood.
Daughter of Mr. Hood,

Was sent across the woods to take
Her rand mamma some food;

For whic her mother had to spank
This little girl quite good.

Now she had quite an eye for flowers
That charmed the silvan scenes.

And thought to make a nice bouquet
As royal as a queen’s, _

So went to gathering dandelions,
And mullein stalks and greens.

Just then a savage sheep came by
Who was quite lean and poor,

And thirteen times as hungry as
A thousand men or more.

He saw a good week‘s board ahead——
Which he'd not seen before.

This gray old sheep politely bowed
And kissed’to her his hand;

He asked her how she were (0-day,
And wa’n’t the weather grand?—

Sheep wearing wolves’ apparel
Are quite hard to understand.

But finding out where she was bound,
Away he quickly flew.
“I will not make a meal of one
When I am sure of two,”
And at the grandma’s door he tapped,
As bogus wolves will do.

Now this old lady was as sick
As any one could be;

She'd eaten thirteen pigs' feet, and
Had drank a pail of tea—

Not counting ten but biScuits, and
Fried chickens to agree.

“ Who‘s there?” the grandam screeching cried,
" Why, who do you suppose?”—
He was against the key hole,
And answered through his nose:
“ Your solferino Riding Hood,
With ham. and beans, and those.”

“ Then give the string a jiggle and
The door will let you in.”
The old sheep did as he was bid,
And entered with a grin,
And to masticate that. lady
he most quickly did begin.

(By this the grandam got relieved
Of rheumatism and sprains,

Gout, toothache. influenza, spleen,
And stitches. aches and pains;

Bad temper, general misery,
Deafness and some bad strains.)

Nau ht else but spectacles and cap
emained now of the dead;
He ut the first upon his eyes,
he last upon his head,
And to deceive Red Riding Hood
He covered up in bed.
’Twas late when to the house she got,
As girls will always be.
“ Wh . granny, you have got large eyes.”
“ hey’re better for to see.”
“ And. mercy on us, what a snoot!”

“ The best for scent.” said hewsaid she—
well, said he, then.

Then suddenly that sheep arose
With but a single bound—

He thought to eat her straightway up
And swallow her straight down—

But the woodman Hugh came with his ax
And did him up quite brown.

If the author had allowed this girl
A fate so awful had

As to be eaten by this sheep,
It would have been quite sad,

And you must all beware of sheep,
However they are clad.

 

In the Wilderness.

BY C. DUNNING CLARK.

WITH the patience and tirelessness of the
Indian, old Ben led the way, and the adven-
turers toiled after. All except the student and
Augustus had been accustomed to long marches
and bore it well. but the long limbs of Bacon
trembled With fatigue and the perspiration
burst from every ore as he walked. The stu-
dent was sustaine by an indomitable courage,
which made up for the loss of physical power
consequent upon mouths of arduous study. Ben
looked back at him from time to time, and mut-
tered something below his breath, compli-
mentary to his pluck, and offered to relieve him
of his pack, which kindness he received with
thanks, but declined to accept, and Ben, in a
whisper to Viator, gave his opinion of the young
man in the brief sentence, “ he’ll do.”

At length the brawling of running water was
heard, and they came to the brink of a forest
stream, bubbling over the stones, sinking now
and then into deep, dark pools, the home of the
speckled trout, and then dancing downward in
long rapids, spotted with roses here and there.
The eyes of the fishermen began to glow, but Ben
stopped them sternly as they began to fumble
for their tackle.

“ Hold on, you critters. Don’t you tech a rod
this night, because every hand must help build
a camp. Come on.”

Half a mile further on they came out upon a
spot of ground beside a deep pool, where a boy
waited with two pack-horses, upon which he had
brought up such of their traps as were absolute—
ly necessary to their comfort, and which would
have been difficult to carry in a march through
the woods. Only one rifle had been brought, a
beautiful “ Sharp,” belonging to Viator, the rest
being double-barreled ducking-guns. It was as
yet too early in the season for deer, and they
were not the men to break the game laws, or
suffer it to be done by others. The boy had
dumped the packs upon the greensward. and
had waited for orders, and when he received
them, mounted his horse, took the other by the
bridle, and rode away through the woods.

“ He cannot get out of the pines before night
comes on,” said ’iator.

“ It’s little my boy Ben cares fur that,” said
the guide. “ He knows the woods like a book,
that boy does, and he’ll make a camp som’er’,
hopple the bosses, and wait till sun-up. Don’t
you be afeerd fur him, square. Seems to pull
mighty hard on the greeny here, this tramp
does. I told you he was a weedy chicken.”

While Viator and the rest were putting the
finishing touches to the shelter, old Ben was put-
ting up a cooking—furnace from the loose slate-
stones scattered about—an easy job for an old
w

 

man,

“Thar,” said Ben, as he glanced with gratified
pride at the result of their labors. “ That looks
ship-sha and orderly, I reckon; jest look at
that out andish critter, square,” he cried, point-

' ing to the recumbent form of “ Spindle Shanks,”

stowed away under a tree. “ he ain’t sound
asleep, bu’st me! I wish he were a red, and I’d
raise his ha’r; I would, by racious. I don’t
take it kind in you, Square iator, a-bringin’
sech truck out here. Now, you build a fire, and
I’ll go down to the pool and take out a few
speckled fellers for supper.”

And the old guide seized a hatchet, and at-
tacked a rotten log close by. Every few strokes
he stopped and fished out a large yellow grub
from the rotten wood, which he put in an old
tobacco-box. After finding about a dozen, he
cut a lithe pole from the ash, trimmed it with a
pocket-knife. attached a hook and line, and,
with this primitive tackle, walked away, calling
to‘Spebiéceg, tfie Stflildent, to follow.

1a r ui a re, got out the fr 'n - nand
kettle, and made ready everything;1 fgrps‘iipper.
In half an hour Ben and the student returned
with a fine string of the speckled beauties, and
the latter declared, with glowing checks, that
he had caught most of them and enjoyed the
sport immensely. '

“0h, I’ll put color into the poor lad’s face,”
said Ben. ‘He’s bin stewing over them cussid
books till he’s a. perfect shadder, but the woods
was what he wanted! You beam me a-talkin’. ”

Ben had cleaned the trout as fast as they were
caught. and he set to work over them with a
skill which no French cook ever equaled, while
Viator made coffee.

When all was ready they sat down to such a
feast as the Epicureans might have envied. It

 
     
  

 

 

is true that they had no better forks than their
fingers, but they used them skillfully. The trout
disappeared as if by magic. For some time
nothing else was heard save the suppressed
notes of delight on the part of the feasters, and
as they began to be satisfied they broke out into
such encomiums upon Ben’s cookery that the
old man was fain to be gratified.

“ Oh, hush up,” he said.
the river don’t know what trout ar’.

two hours out of water.
how to cook a trout.

make coffee, you do.

it with a stic and sipping it as it cooled.
Ben ?” said Viator.

kain’t git a ong without me. You don’t know
how many friends I’ve made in the years I’ve
been up hcre. Thar’s many a man that wears
his broadcloth and sits in high places in Albany
and York, that would be glad to shake old Ben
by the hand, and have a crack Over the times
we’ve had here in the North Woods and out by
the Saranac and the lakes. Thar ain’t but little
of it I don’t know, boys, and I’ve bin in places
whar no white man ever stepped afore me. I’m
a plain man, but when I’m alone in the woods,
sometimes, I take off my old hat, and look up
to the sky, and bless the Giver of sech a forest
for a hunter to live in. I don’t want no better
home.”
Night came on, and with it came the muske—
toes, and pi )es and cigars were produced, and
the boys bew a fearful cloud. Luckily for
Spencer, his one bad habit was smoking. and
the vicious insects dislike smoke of all things.
Unfortunate ’Gustus was the only one in the
Earty who did not smoke, and to him the mus—
etoes paid their undivided attention. “'hile
the rest lay placidly smoking, listening to the
one thousand and one sounds of the forest by
night, poor ’Gustus was fighting the battle of
one against a million. He dared not penetrate
the misty vale which hung about his com-
panions, for the smoke would make him sick,
and he bore his sorrows with muttered words
which would not have sounded well in a pulpit.
Laugh and jest, story and song went round
among the smokers, but ’Gustus had no delight
in these things. The song which claimed his at-
tention was the song of the musketo, and that
was etting monotonous. The merriest jest
from 'iator could not rouse a smile in him,
though the jollity of the others was uproarious.
At last, in utter despair, the unfortunate
youth grabbed a blanket and dived into the
shelter-tent. while, in the words of the immortal
Jinks, “ a cloud of the enemy followed him and
harassed his rear.” The others witnessed his
fii ht with shouts and laughter.
he by one the stars came out in the blue
sky, and the moonlight dimpled on the water.
The sounds in the forest seem almost deafening
to a man new to such sights and sounds.
“ Croak, croak, croak,” from the frogs, “ whip-
po-wil,” from that melancholy bird, “whoo,
whoo, whoo,” from the horned owl; the shrill
cry of the loon, and the wood-duck’s call, min-
gled in strange confusion. Our adventurers sat
late in the clear moonlight, and then picking
out their blankets, they lay down to sleep under
the shadows of the gloomy pines.

 

The Vigilantesjj Flush Deck.

BY H. s. KELLER.

“ GENTLEMEN’, the state of affairs in Flush
Deck is gradually growing dangerous. We have
too man bummers among us. They are the
leeches. t e hangers-on, whose presence promises
speedy death to this camp. We are gathered
here for the purpose of arranging a different
state of affairs, you have chosen me as chief of
this organization, and have appointed me to ar—
range a brief schedule of proscription, which I
shall now proceed to read.”
The speaker. a finely-built man, of about
thirty years of age, was surrounded by a motley
crowd gathered in the Dandy, the leading hotel
of Flush Deck, Colorado. His voice was low
and musical, still, there was a ring of determi—
nation underlying its modulations which told
that he was in earnest.
The strange peculiarities of life in the gold re
gions have been the wonder of the world ever
since the discovery of the precious metal. Hence,
it is wholly unnecessary for me to ex lain why
Harold Thorn was chosen chief of the igilantes.
, “ Read ther dockyment, boss; we air waitin’,”
urged a red-shirted miner, pushing to the front.

horn drew a paper from his pocket which he
proceeded to read Without further hesitation. I
shall not reproduce the entire contents of the
document; a few items will suffice to explain its
purport:
“ Men who hava no known means of support must
go.—Camp bummers must go.—A man taken in the
act of robbery must (lie—A man a ainst whom the
suspicion of horse-stealing is well- ounded shall be
forthwith introduced to Widow H'lfifl—NO more
jumping of another man’s claim.—Road agents are
cautioned against committing further depredations.
—He who engages in any of the foregoing pro-
scribed items. to wit, will be dealt with by the Vig—
ilantes of Flush Deck in a summary manner.”
The readin of the document was interrupted
by cheers an ejaculations of satisfaction from
the crowd. What mattered it to them if no pro-
scription was uttered against gambling or its
twin sister evil—murder? To this motley gather-
ing, gambling and the slaying of human life
seemed as necessary adjuncts of existence in the
mining regions.
IV hile they were discussing the various articles
represented in the schedule of proscription, the
door suddenly opened, and a wretched, bicar-
eyed, storm-tossed specimen of humanity en-
tered. His ragged garments scarce sufficed to
cover his nakedness; his face was brutal, and
bore the indelible ravages of deep dissipation.
In a husky tone he cried upon entering:
“ Cuss yer highfalutin’, pesky ’rangements! I
he’rd tell as how this crowd was settin’ out fur
the purtecshun o’ prop’ty. Cuss yer crowd!
Some ’un’s gone an’ stole my mouse-colored mule,
Maud! She was old an’ shaky, but she was the
on’y creetur’ as had a spark 0’ love in hur giz-
zard fur poor old Jim Jams.” Maudlin tears
rolled down his beefy cheeks, and his voice grew
fairly pathetic as he recounted the loss of his
pet, the mouse-colored mule, Maud.
“Jim Jams, you say some one has taken
your—”
“ Yes; jess so ;—my Maud; my gentle-tem-
pered Maud wi’ a watch—eye. She was all I had
in the world,” blubbered the miserable wretch.
The members of the newly-organized Vigi-
lantes glanced from one to the other. Here is a.
case for them—nay, two; Jim Jams is a chronic
bummer, and has no known means of support.
The schedule of proscription says he must go.
Some one has stolen Jim Jams’s mule. Ah!
That is a serious question. No matter if the an-
imal was lean, ugly and worthless—still, it was
a case of horse-stealing: one of the cardinal
crimes in the “Feet. The horse, or mule business
must be attended to first: after that, Jim Jams
must shake the dust of Flush peck from his

 

eet.

“ Well, Jim Jams, proceed and tell us all
about the affair,” said Thorn.
“ Yer see, me ’n’ Maud bunks tergether up ’n
our shanty. What’s good ’nulf fur Maud ’5 good
’nuff fur me. This mornin’ when I got up Maud
was gone .’ I felt so pesky bad ’bout it, an’—the
hull sum ’n’ substance 0’ it is, I got on a rip-
snortin’ booze to drown my sorrer. I comes to
my senses ’bout ’n hour ’go, an’ sez sumthin’s
got ter he did right from the word go. Sez I to
myself, them highfalutin’ nibsies has gone an’
ot up a pony crowd fur the s’presshun 0’ crime.
tealm’ my Maudie, my mouse-colored mule,’s a
high-up—an’-git—thar crime. Them nibsies is the
ones to ’ply to. sez I. So, here I be, ents; a
weepin’ pilgrim what wants back is pet

 

‘ ‘ Them chaps down “
I wouldn’t
give a cent for a trout that had been more than
We git ’em fresh, with
all the juices in ’em, and ef I do say it, I know
Yeas, I will take a little
more of that coffee,”square; you know how to

He held out his tin cup, which Viator filled,
after putting in the proper quantity of condensed
milk and su er, and Ben sat pensively stirring

“You’ve led many a party up this river, pulling a soft felt hat from under his vest.

“ Yaas, s uare, I hev, for somehow the boys

erment o’ red-nosed woe and pyramid o’ gushin’
sorrer?”

The earnestness of Jim J ams’s plaint was
ridiculously pathetic. Whether or no it touched
the hearts of his hearers I am not able to say:
however, it produced more or less weight as to
their discrimination of right and wrong; hence
they roposed to investigate.

mule?" asked Thorn.

“ I has,” was J im J ains’s reply.

“ Ah! that makes the case more clear.
is the object of your suspicions?”

“ Doxology Smith.”

“ “'hatl IVhy, Doxolo
est, quietest man in Flush eck. He hasn’t got
the nerve to steal a mule,” said Thorn, as he
shook his head doubtingly.

“But this sez as how he was ’bout my shanty
all the same,” suddenly ejaculated Jim Jams,

Gents, that’s his; you can tell it by the weed
’bout it,” added the bummer.
“ Doxology’s head-gear, by gum!” ejaculated
one of the men.
“ Jess so. That identical hat I found close by
my cabin. Are it proof ’nuff fur you?”
“ It ought to be. Have you been to see
Smith ?” inquired Thorn.
“ No; I tell you I was so ’fiicted by sorrer
that I put my feelin’s in the ip 0’ the booze.”
“ Then we must apply to oxology in person
for infor—”
“ An’ thar he comes now,” broke in one of the
miners, pointing toward the window.
There was no mistaking that tall, 5 re form
with a crane—like neck. About the atter was
clasped a stiff, black stock that gave the wearer
a ministerial appearance; and this it was from
which he derived the name of Doxology. Men
in the gold regions move by sudden impulses,
and seldom wait for second considerations—es-
pecially in affairs like the present. Ere Doxol-
ogy could recover from his astonishment or find
words to ask for an explanation, he was sur-
rounded by a crowd and a rope was quickly
placed about his neck.
“ Doxology Smith, you are about to take your
last look upon earth. You are to meet the
merited punishment served out to horse—thieves.
If you have anything to say be quick about it,”
said Thorn. His short but telling speech was
received by cheers from the crowd.
“ Gentlemen, perhaps it would be well to in-
vesti ate—”
“ i o investigashun are necessary. Ye’re a
gospill sharp, an’ you stole my mule,” interrupt-
ed Jim Jams.
“ Stole your mule?” asked Doxology, as light
began to dawn upon his senses.
" Yes; my purty Maudie. She are gone: an’,
I found yer hat nign my shanty—”
“ That certainly is my hat—blown from m
head last night and lost in the darkness while
was returning from a 810k miner’s cabin.”
“ Ye’re givin’ us guff now—”
“ I speak the truth. Henry Powers was the
sick man. He just died in my arms.”
A strange hush fell upon the crowd at once.
A man has just died a natural death. - Men are
in the habit of d ' g here with their “ boots on;"
the men of Flus Deck are used to such thin s;

ave you any idea as to who stole your

Who

Smith is the meek-

SATURDAY NIGHT.

av ABBIE c M’xsirvan.

 

Oh. night of a blessed morning,
When the poor man’s work is o‘er,
When, through the blinding snowdrift,
He sees the open door
Of the little cot in the meadow,
Or a room in a ding street,
Where fancy softly pictures
The faces of children sweet,
And another— ever waiting
With a world of loving light
In her gentle eyes that speaketh
Her happy "Saturday Night!"

Oh. night of a blessed morning,
When the weary work is done—
When we knock at the door of Heaven
Beyond the settin sun,
When the barque 0 life has floated
O’er the troubled sea and tide,
And gently gliding onward
It nears the other side,
To the harbor there in waiting
With its star of hope and light
That guides the weary traveler
To his final “ Saturday night !"

 

An Escape from the Comanches

A 'I‘lfiIIIG INCIDENT.

BY CAPTAIN RINGVVOOD.

 

 

“ YOU all know, boys,” said Old John, “ what
a tramp across the Staked Plains is, particularly
if the journey is made during the summer
months.”
“ Pah! Thet cussed place ar’ the wust in the
deck! A streaked-back grasshopper can’t more’n
git along thar!” exclaimed an old ranger, in
great disgust.
“You’re pretty near right, Bunk,” replied
Old John. “And I reckon you won’t forget
soon the trip you and I made up that way once.
Well, bad as it is, I know of a woman who once
made it from Bi Tucamcari down through the
Llano clear to C dbourn, and that with a big
war—party of Uomanches traveling just ahead
‘of her.”

“Hangin’ on the’r trail, eh?” inquired Bunk,
cunningly.

“ Exactly; and it was as neat a job as ever
any mountain man performed.”

“ An’ you say it was a gal, a female woman
as did that?” asked the'ranger a in.

“ Yes, and I’ve seen her, and card the story
from her own 1i .”

“From Big ucamcari?” muttered Bunk, as
though he was still uncertain if he had heard

aright. “It’s a mis’able lie,” he suddenly ex-
claimed, looking up. “ It couldn’t he did by no
woman.”

That’s loose talk. But
I’ll tell you the yarn, and then goguess you’ll
take that back,” said Old John, g -naturedly.
“ In the fall of ’48 the Comanche Ish-a-ro-yeh’s
band—”

“Ther p’izen skunk!” exclaimed Old Bunk,
sav el .

“ es. Well, the band made an inroad onto
the settlements lying this side of the l’erdinalles,

“ Come, come, Bunk!

 

but a natural death—oh! That is beyond t e
power of even the Vigilantes to investigate.
he hush that came was merely transitory; for
one of the men roughly ejaculated:
“ Sum one’s otter hang fur stealin’ Jim
Jams’s mule. T er everdunce ag’i'n’ Doxology
are cornclusive. He’s gotter pull hemp!”
Thorn was unable to stem the flow of passion
burning in their breasts. Again, what mattered
it to him if there was one or more life less in
Flush Deck? Doxology had preached against
his profession—gambling. Let him hang.
The noose tightened about the condemned
man’s neck. The spirit of a grim determination
—it might have been the one drop of Puritanical
blood in his veins—shone from his eyes and he—
spoke the will in his heart to meet death, though
unjustly. with unflinching courage. As his toes
cleared the ground and his spare form began to
spin around, the tiger in the men’s hearts rose
and revolvers leaped forth to perforate the hang-
ing man. And then a flash of golden hair dart-
ed before their vision. A keen knife cut the
rope, and Doxology’s form, supported in the
arms of a fair girl, sunk to the ground.
“ Now, try it over if you dare, you cowards!”
“ Rusty l”
“ Yes, Rusty. Demons! Wretches disgrac-
ing the form God gave you! How I hate and
loathe you, cowards!” angrily sprung from the
red lips as the rounded form faced the crowd
with a revolver clinched in each tiny hand. A
child in years with the form of a woman. From
the shapely head descended a luxuriant sheen of
russet-gold hair. Her small feet were incased
in tiny boots. And her face—it was the fairest
e’er kissed by the golden sun of Colorado. The
red lips are curved with indignation, and the
daintily—cut nostrils quiver with the intensity of
hate, while the blue eyes are full of solicitude
for the man whose life she has saved.
“ Rusty, believe me—”
“ Stand back! Harold Thorn,I know you for
what you now are-a coward!” rung out the
girl’s voice. She knelt down by the side of the
prostrate man, who had risen to his elbow. He
slowly gasped for breath and said:
“ Just in time, dear. The old stock held out
well. Gentlemen,” said he, turning toward the
crowd, “ you came very near doin the job that
time. My little girl here, Rusty, ‘ bless her!
saved you from committing murder.”
“ Consarn it all! We’ve gone an’ put our hoofs
inter a pesky bad biz,” remorsefully uttered one
of the men as Thorn walked awa from the
crowd. He could not face the clear blue eyes of
the girl.
“But what ’bout my mouse-colored mule,
Maud Z” wailed Jim Jams.
“ You poor sot! Dfiy before yesterday you
were crazed with dri . Last night you rode
by our cabin, lashing the mule and cursing like
a madman. You had a case of jim-jams,” ut-
tered Rusty.
Jim Jams dropped his head and began to
meditate. I’Vhile he is muttering to himself and
trying to recall the chaotic hours of his spree’s
duration, Doxology and his daughter are mov-
ing away. After some few feet separated them
from the crowd, Doxology turned and said:
“ Gentlemen, I came among you with good in-
tentions—to save souls. This is the first time
you have ever threatened my life. It shall be
the last. This decision is not made for my sake,
but for my child’s. Flush Deck with such men
is not a safe place for virtue and purity.” The
pair moved away.
As they disappeared around a bend the were
followed by anxious eyes, for Rusty wast e sun-
shine of the gold camp.
“Jim Jams, ther aw sez, if a man steals a
hoss he’s got ter hang. Yer’s war a mule—an’ a
cussed or’nary beast too. Jim Jams, you’ve
gone an’ stole yer own nag. That’s a p’inted
question 0’ law I don’t git onter. If yer’d ’a’
bin in yer right senses, ole boy, prayin’ wouldn’t
ha’ saved yer. Since it war a case 0’ booze, we
lets yer off. Git! Vamoosey! Go find yer
mouse-colored Maud. If yer ever darken Flush
Deck ag’in, darn me! we’ll hang you an’ Maud
from ther same rope! Eh?—”
“ K’rectl Skip! Skin out, Jim Jams,” roar-
ed the crowd. in unison.
Jim Jams glanced from face to face. No ity
there; he must go. He turned his face towar the
East, and with faltering steps departed from the
spot. He reached the low range of hills; there
be halted. With one last glance backward, he
disappeared. Neither he nor Maud was ever
seen in the Deck again.
The next morning Doxology Smith and Rusty
took the stage for Gunnison. and left Flush Deck
forever. I have never heard how well or how
poorly the Vigilantes succeeded in running
crime out of the gold camp, but I’ll venture to
say their first experience taught them to investi—
gate ere condemning a victim to the halter.

 

AN Iowa girl has an album in which she keeps
a picture of all the young men who have flirted
With her without coming to the point. She calls

 

Maudie. Say, can you do anythin’ fur this mon-

and gan slayin and burning wherever the
foun a place wea enough to make their wor

eas .
“yAmong other places, they surrounded the
ranch of a settler named Whitbeck, killed him
and his wife, burnt the houses, and carried off a
prisoner, the murdered people’s only child, a
girl about seventeen or eighteen years old.
“It wasn’t long before we were after them,
and for two days made the country pretty hot
for the red devils, but they struck out into the
desert, and we lost the trail in the shifting
sands.
“Nine years passed, and the names of the
Whitbecks as well as the fate of the daughter
had long since ceased to be mentioned. Amid
the whirl of later and not less terrible events
they had been forgotten. But all this time the
prisoner—she had been carried back to the vil-
lage, and there adopted by the big Medicine,
which saved her from marrying some warrior—
had been planning and waiting for an escape.
“Three times she tried it, and as often was
she overtaken and carried back.”
“ Now. here, cap’n, thet wdn’t go down,” said
a grizzled old trapper.
“ I know, Walt, and as a general thing they
would have scalped her, but the Medicine saved
her eVery time. You see I’m telling the story
just as I. got it from the woman herself. After
the third trial she about gave up all ho of
getting away, and for four or five years Iieved
along the best way she could, helping the old
Medicine play his little games on the others,
and becoming a favorite with the whole tribe.
“One night, while passing near the council—
house, she heard one of the warriors, a noted
brave, speaking in loud tones, and, led by
curiosity, she crept close up and peeped throng
a chink in the wall.
“ The Indians were in council, and were
planning an extensive raid on the outlying
settlements below. She stayed long enough to
find out that every available man was to go on
the war-path, not even the usual guard to be
left behind. This, then, was to be her time to
escape, if ever, and before she slept that night
she had fixed upon the way to do it.
“ After a week of preparation, getting arms
in order, making arrows, hunting and jerking
buffaloes, parching corn and fooling with the
big Medicine to give ’em luck, the band started
on the trail.
“ They left the village at noon, and an hour
after dark the captive dodged from her lodge,
and catching a ood mustang from the corral,
mounted and r e out, following directly on the
war—party’s track.
“ It was a powerful risky thing, but the only
way that had any chance of success.
“If she had struck off on any other route,
her trail would have been found and followed,
but by mixing her tracks with those of the war-
part , they were lost.
“ he worst danger was that some of the war-
riors might have forgotten or neglected some-
thing at the village, and so return, and such in
fact proved to be the case.
“ She was pushing ahead about daybreak the
next morning, and was just riding out of a
mezquit thicket, when she caught sight of an
Indian’s top-knot above a rise in the prairie
ahead. She wheeled her mustang back into
the bushes, but not in time to esca the
Comanche’s eye, and the next minute e was
after her.
“ The race was a short but sharp one, the war-
rior making no attempt to kill, but only capture
and carry her back to the village.
“ But she had no idea of letting him do any-
thing of the sort.
“ Of course in living so many years among
the red-skins she had learned many of their
ways, and could ride and handle a bow with the
best of them.
“Seeing she was about to be ridden down,
she strung her bow, faced about and made
battle. Her first arrow flew wide, and the brave
rushed upon her, hoping to close before she could
fit another to her string, but he missed his count,
and at ten paces she drove a shaft clean through
and through his greasy carcass.
“ With the good sense of an old mountain man
she determined to change ri ging with the dead
Indian, and, half an hour ter, she rode out of
the thicket as good-looking a warrior as there
was in the tribe.
“The second night after she caught up with
the war—party, just as they were going into
camp, and it being too dark to distinguish her
features, she passed off as the dead brave well
enough, that is, for awhile. But luck here
turned against her. A council was held, and
she was compelled to answer the Indian’s name
whose part she was playing. She knew when it
came her turn to or answer questions, or
something of that kind, that the game would
be up, and she determined to 'cut stick and run
for it.
‘ ‘ They were now more than half-wayacross the
plains, and she thought that she mig i: make it.
“ The rest of them had all assembled, and

 

it her rogues’ gallery.

off in the timber, reached the place where the
mustangs were icketed, and selecting the one
owned by the chief—a big raw-boned ‘ paint ’—
she mounted and was off like a scared buck.

“In less than five minutes they were after
her, and then the race, that covered two hun—
dred miles of ground, most of it desert, began.

“ You see they thought the Indian, who
chanced to be a half-breed, had played them
false, and was trying to desert and give infor-
mation of their coming.

“The woman did very well until she struck
the sandy country, but after that her sufferings,
according to her own story, must have been
awful.

“ She was three days without a drop of water,
except once she found a cactus that had two
flowers on. One she sucked herself and the
other she gave to the mustang.

“ On the morning of the fourth day the horse
fell, and, after drinking some of the blood she
obtained by cutting a slit in its throat, she start—
ed afoot for the timber which she could just see
off to the southward.

“She couldn’t tell how she reached it nor
when.

l “The first thing she remembered was lying
beSide a spring of water that was coming out
from the roots of a big cottonwood.

“Here she stayed until the next day, when
she managed to kill a mule-cared rabbit.

“That set her on her feet again, and she
struck out southward, and in two more days
reached a settlement on the west fork of the
Colorado.

“She was ahead of the war— rty, and word
was sent off to Chadbourn for if: ran rs.
“ “Te got them in time to am ush the
Comanches in a Fiece of timber beyond the
place, and when tell you that there wasn’t
alf a dozen of that party ever got back to their
village, you can bet that we went into them
hot and heavy.”
“ Well,” said Old Bunk, with ludicrous grav-
ity, “ef I hadn’t ’a’ heard it, I would never ’a’
b’leeved it, and you may take me fur a digger
Injuii ef she ain’t the gamest female woman as
ever I heard on.”

Dill loiEver.

BY HENRY PERRY.

 

 

 

DID you ever go into a barber-shop about
eight o’clock in the evening, cross and tired, and
wait an hour and a half for your turn, and have
a boy ask you twenty-seven times if you don’t
want your shoes blacked, and then take your
chair and listen to discourse, through the odor
of gin and garlic, on the weather, and the min-
strels, and the next year’s base-ball season, and
the presidential inauguration, and get cut three
times on the chin and once on the neck, and just
as the shaving is over have the barber ask you
if the razor pulls, and if you don’t want your
hair cut and shampooed, when it was cut and
shampooed only two days before, and have him
tell you that your hair is full of dandruff, and
that you on ht to buy a two-dollar bottle of
“ Tonsorial lixir,” that will take it all out with

 

four applications, and be asked if you want pow-
der, or bay rum, or hair oil, and have him spend
fifteen minutes trying to stop the flow of blood
with little patches of shavin paper and alum
from the gaping wounds thatgiis razor has left, -
and, final , when you escape from him, again
have the boy ask you, with tears in his eyes, if
you don’t want your boots blacked. and have
him brush your coat and hat in a pleasemister-
give-me-a-nickel-I-am—starving—to—death sort of
a way, and when you get outside in the rain
without an umbrella, have a dog bite you in the
leg because you accidentally stepped upon him,
and have a newsboy dance in front of you for
two blocks, all the time imploring you to buy
an evening paper, and then try and board a
street-car at full speed, and miss 'our footing
and fall in the mud and slush. and have some-
body step on your hat and spoil it, and have a
big, an ry policeman come around the corner
brandis ing his club and ask, “ VVhat’s all this
row about?”and have him seize you by the coat-
collar and drag you off to the station-house,
where you are fined ten dollah‘s and costs for be-
ing drunk and disorderly, and not allowed to
say a word under threat of being sent to jail for
three months, and after reaching home long past
midnight, a shapeless mass of humanity, have
your wife look at you and the clock alternately
and call you “ sir,” and say something about
“mother” and home and “first instincts of a.
gentleman,” and have her wind up the clock
with all the noise possible and flounce into bed,
and turn her face to the wall, and cry, and not
listen to a word of explanation—did you ever
have this sort of thing happen to you?

What, net-er? IVell, you are pretty lucky,
that’s all.

 

Telephone Echoes.

A POUND PARTY—The young woman who is
learning to play on the piano.
VVHEN an editor tells a good-looking young

t that her verses on “ Lilacs” are “ perfectly
ovely,” you may set it down in your mind that
he can lilac everything when he wants to.
SOME malicious person says that the Washing-
ton girls have originated a new slang phrase.
When they are very much delighted with any-
thing they exclaim: “ Oh, isn’t it just too dog
for anything?”
WHO wouldn’t be a sailor? All you have to
do is to yell “ Ay, ay, sir,” at the top of your
voice about once in ten minutes. The rest ,of
the time you-can look over the ship’s stern and
watch the sharks.
“ WHAT is it?” shriek: a sensational divine,
“ that puts out the lamps of human joy?” We
could timidly suggest that tight boots can come
about as near domg that same as anything out-
side of tophet we can call to mind.

“HAVE you seen my article in to-day’s
Paper?” said a French journalist to a friend.
‘ Yes,” replied the latter, “ I read it over very
carefully twice, and—” “Now I feel doubly
complimented.” “ Couldn’t make head or tail
of it.’

A CHICAGO hotel—keeper had a man recently
arrested for stealing a cake of soap. The man
pleaded, in extenuation of his offense, that he
wanted it for his collection of curiosities, it be-
ing the first cake of soap he had ever discovered
in a Chicago hotel.
TIMELY advice: Never take food to a picnic.
Take plenty of wholesome drink and something
to drink it from. Never go to a great distance.
Never take very small children. Do not stay
long. Have a hearty meal as soon as you get
home. Don’t go to a picmc.
CALL a girl a chick, and she smiles; call a
woman a hen, and she howls. Call a youn wo-
man a witch, and she is pleased; call an 01 wo-
man a witch, and she is indignant. Call a girla
kitten, and she rather likes it; call a woman a
cat, and she’ll hate you. Queer sex, isn’t it?
11‘ was a mischievous Boston girl who, in the
marriage service, repeated the clergyman’s
solemn line: “Promising to love, honor and
obey,” in this novel form, “ Promising to love,
honor and be gay.” He wanted to smile, but
didn’t dare; neither did he dare to insist that she
say it right.
“ No, Henry, I have no objection to your 0-
ing to the lodge, but don’t you think the crueIty
to animals society would object to feedin that
r goat on whisky and tobacco?” Henry
lushes like a girlas e says that he will men—
tion the matter to the mod: worshipful, puissant
regent upon the first convenient opportunity.
“ EMBRACERY” is the name originally‘given
to the offense of corruptly influencmg the jurors
in a cause, either by money, treating or promises;
and both the embracer and the juror embraced
are, by common law, guilty of a misdemeanor.
Nobody would embrace a nowadays. except,
perhaps, in Oregon, w ere no trifling dis-
crimination of sex is permitted in the selection

 

were waiting her appearance, when she slipped

of jurors.

    
 
 
   

 

 

—‘I' -(,

 

 

 

    
  
      
       
   
   
    
  
  
  
  
     
   
  
   
    
 
 
  
   
  
    
  
  
  
 
 
    
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
   
    
 
 
  
   
      
     
    
   
  
   
   
 
  
    
     
  
   

 

 

 

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