Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1855-05-05

prlilant nssn, OUT only steady, ruddy
glare.
Just then, footsore, wearied and sick.
there leaned against the rough door o
poor Indian hunter, brave and right
loyal descendant of those red men who,
ere the pioneer girdled his trees were
kings of this wild old wood. Many
long, weary mile had be travelled since
the dawn, and when the dark night set
in so stormy and cold, he had drawn
his torn blanket around him, and sought
only to find in the grave some hollow in
which to lie down and chant the DEATH
hymn that had rung all day in his ears.
A long time he wandered, entangling
himself yet deeper in the intricate wind
ings Of the dense old wood. But lust
when his feet Jagged most and his heart
was sorest, q beam from the woodlands
fire lit on his path, and lit, too, q hone
in his bosom. BE followed the ray, and
ere the last brand had fallen, was 50 near
the rude home that his Indian eve could
track the path which its owner had made
in the forest, and follow it to his door.
But there he paused awhile. Would
the white man be kind to his red faced
brother, and give him the feod he craved
and skin by the fire!
"Me try him." said he, as he pushed
| against the door; "me try him, be good
to me, me no forget" and the wooden
bar ratified and the woodsman avoke
startled but not afraid. One bound
brought him to the door, and with one
hand on its guard and one on his rife,
he called, who's there-what want
you 7''
"Me Indian; me sick and me hungry:
me but ere he could speak more
the door few open and be was bid to
come in and be welcome.
"Friend nor foe stands outside nv
door on night like this, !" said the sturdy
host, as be threw q generous arnful Of
his lightwood and raked out the Goals
till they were all in q glow.
Me your friend, and me no forget"
| said the Indian, in q voice emphatic,
though weak, as he sank on the hearth.
stone, tore of his blanket that was drip
ping and cold, and suffered the warm
rosy light to creep over bis great brawny
limbs, and redden the cheek that had
never been pale before.
/" 1 am your friend, for God knows by
your looks you need one, /" responded the
brave pioneer; "and the best that have
| shall be yours tonight; :" and suiting the
action to the words, he set on the table
| the remains Of the evening meal, and
then drawing out clear bed of Goals,
laid over them a generous slice of the
noble deer he had slaughtered himself,
aud had soon smoking meal to tempt
the hungry palate Of the guest. Then
casting q bundle Of skins on the floor
close to the hearth-stone, and taking
from of the bed whereon lay bis wife,
trembling in silent terror, o heavy blan-
ket, he told the poor Indian to rest him
self till morning. and lorger if he choose.
And then with q heart lighter and hap
pier than when he rose, be lay down
again, drawing his pale companion to his
breast and quieting his fears with en-.
dearments as gentle and soothing ss
| those mother bestows on o frightened
| child.
When they awoke in the morning their
Indian guest lay still on the floor, in q
sound and refreshing sleep. When he
rose from bis rustic couch they asked
him not whence he had come land whether
lie was going, but only to partake of
their hospitality as long as be thought
fit. With Indian taciturnity be said
nothing, but ate with them, and then Law
down again, and in this way passed two
days. On the morning of the third, when
the hearty breakfast had been disposed
| of, he drew his blanket around him and
went to the door. As he crossed the
threshold he turned his face to the still
seated husband and wife and said en-
phaticallY, "Pale face good to Indian
me no forget ;" and as an arrow darts
from its bow when the strong arm draws
he sped from the sheltering roof, and was
lost almost instantly in the mazes of the
dense wood.
| For some weeks the incident was dwelt
on frequently by the family, but gradual
ly it faded from their memories, and as
years passed sway it was only once in q
while recalled at the request of two
bueyant lads, that father would tell
them an Injen story, q true story about
Ave Injen." Then, taking them on bis
knee, he would relate to them " hat has
just been written, and they would draw
his arms yet closer round their trembling
forms. and wonder if they would dare to
60 to sleep while "live Injen" lay
stretched before the fire; and they would
say, weren't you afraid father 2" and
cuddle up to his heart.
Alas! they, nor he, nor that still
beautiful wife thought then of the sor-
row that live linens" were to bring
upon their happy hearts. Closer would
those little ones have clung to him, and
fairer arms than theirs would have been
wound about his bosom. But the threat
ened blow came soon, and q sad and
crushing one it was.
TcoSoLusIos IN OUR KKxrl