Plymouth advertiser. [volume] (Plymouth, Ohio) 1853-1988, 1854-03-04

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betrayed he traveller into gulf of black
smothering mud; there were also dark
and stagnant pools, the abodes of the tad
pole, the bull frog, and the water snake,
and the trunks of pines aud hemlocks lay
half drowned, half rotten, looking like
allegators sleeping in the mre.
Tom had long been picking his way
cautiously through the treacherous forest,
stepping from tuft 10 luft, of rushes and
roots, which afforded precarious footholds
among deep sloughs, or pacing carefully
like cat along the PROSTATE trunks oI
trees,now and then startled by the scream.
ing OF the bittern or the quacking of the
wild duck, raising on the wing from some
solitary pool. At length he arrived a, a
piece of firm ground which ran out like
peninsula in the deep bosom of The
swamp. Ii had been o..e of the strong.
holds of the Indians during their wars
with the first colonies. Here they had
thrown up kind Of fort, which they had
looked upon as almost impregnable, and
used 1t as place of refuge for their
squaws and children. Nothing now re-
maned of the old Indian fort but afew en-
bankments, gradually sinking to the level
OF the surrounding earth. and had been
already overgrown in part by oaks and
other forests trees, the foliage of which
formed contrast TO the dark pines and
hemlocks of the swamp.
1t was late in the dusk of the evening
when Tom Walker, reached the old fort,
and he paused there awhile to rest him.
self. Any one but he would have felt un-
willing to linger in this lonely, melancho-
ly place, for the common people had il bad
opinion of it, from the stories banded
down from he time Of the Indian wars,
when it was asserted that the savages held
incanta'ions here, and made incantations
TO the evil spirit. Tom Walker, howev.
er, was not the man to be overcome by
any fears of this nature.
He reposed himself for some time on
the trunk Of fallen tree, listening to the
boding cry of the ttee..oad, and delving
with his walking staff into. a mound Of
black mould at his feet. As he turned
up the soil unconsciouslv, his staff struck
something hard. He raked it out Of the
vegetable mould, and 10 ! cIoven skull,
with an Indian tomahawk buried in it, lay
before him. The rust of the weapon
showed the time that had elapsed since
the death blow had been given. 1t was
dreary memento of the fierce struggle
that had taken place in that last oo.hold
ot the Indian warrior.
Hump y said Tom Walker, as he gave
the m'uldering skull kick to shake the
dirt from it.
Let that skull alone = said gruf'
voice.
Tom lifted up his eyes and behpld
great black man, sitting directly opposite
MIN on stamp of IL ire. H. was ex
ccednyly surprised, having neither seen
nor t'eard any on approach, and he WAS
still more perplcAed on Observing, as gctl
as the gathering gloom would permit, that
the stranger was neither Negro nor l0-
dian. 1t is true, he was dressed in
rude, halflndian garh, and had red belt
or sash around his body, but his faca was
neither black nor copp r-coIored, but
swarthy and dArv, baGriNmeI With SCOT,
as If he had been accustomed 10 toll among
fires and f,rges. He had shock Of
coarse black hair, that stood out from his
head in all directions, and bore on axe on
his shoulder.
He scowled on Tom for moment with
a pair of great red eyes. ....
What are you doing in my grounds 2
said the black man, with hoarse, growl.
ing voice.
Your grounds said Tom, with sneer;
mo more your grounds than mine, tkey
belong to Deacon Peabody
Deacon Peabody be d--d!' said
the stranger, 'as fatter myself he vii;
be, if he does not look more to his own
sins and less to his neighbors. Look
yonder. and see how Deacon Peabody is
faring''
Tom looked in the direction that ths
stranger pointed, and beheld one of the
great trees fair and Aourishing without,
but rotten at the core, and saw that the
fsst high wind was likely to blow it down.
On the b ok of the tree was scored The
name of Deacon Peabody. He now
looked round and found NEST of the tall
trees marked with the name of some
great man of the colony, and all more or
less SCARED by the axe. The one on
which he had been seated bore the name
of Crowningshield, and he recollected
mighty rich man of that name, who had
made vulgar display of his wealth,
which it was whispered he made by buc.
caneering. ya
He's just ready for buruing!' said the
black man with scowl of triumph
You see am likely to have good
stock of firewood for WINTER
But what right have you,', said Tom.
'to cut down Deacon Peabody's timber
'The right of prior claim said the
'other. This woodland belonged to me