The Conservative. (M'connelsville, Ohio) 1866-1871, 1870-01-28

young man they say when q woman
loses her first young un, 1t breaks her, ana
a. how q lion robbed of her cubs is crazy;
but may you never feel as | did when 1 saw
Canvas-him as had been my pard; had
sot by the same fire, and drank out of the
same dipper, and shared his last terbacker
with me-when Isaws old Canvas, cut up
like o sheep, and dead forever from me-
Ten thousand devils was tuggin' Mt my
heart, and 1 sank, with q yell, down by his
dead side"
The emotion of the stranger almost over.
powered him, as he recalled those agony
days of the past.
iFThey told me arterward that my yell
reused the camp, and they came rushing
out to the spring; but / didn't know it then.
l was stunned like, and never knew what
happened. When morning came, they bur.
led Canvas near where he died. They
didn't leave no mound 10 draw the Iniuns;
but on that ground l knelt and cried. /
don't look as If 1 could cry, but 1 did then.
Canvas says l, old pard, you're gonel-
You was thirty-fouf years Did. So help me
God, I'll kill an Iniun for every year Of
yours. till 1 wipe out the scorer They took
me away, and for four weeks, I was laid in
a fever, which nightly made me pass in my
checks; but l didn't, for l couldn't die till
l kept my word with Canvas.
Young man." he continued, after o
pause, 81 left that train ut Tusoon; and
since that time I've been roamin', roamin'.
l have come in this trip TO get a little mon
ey, and I'm going back. Dye see this
knife2"
He pulled out from his belt a huge, broad
knife, with a wide handle, and handed il
to me. In the wood l saw thirteen holes,
as II bored with pimlets.
"You see them holes2 Every one is q
'Pache. It's my account. book, aud every
!. Iniun 1 kill, in goes a hole. I've got q
/ good many to make before / do az ! said to
Canvas; but I'm goin' back, p'r'apsI may
meet Canvas some day, II / keep my word,
4 which the preacher says is the right lay.
|, What room there was here for = homily
/, on human vengeancel But l could moi
| give il.
"well, you're kindly heard my story, and
/ you're from Maine; thank ye for both. I'm
| going to turn In"
|, And with this rough goodnight, he roll
! led himself in his blankets and the regulal
, breathing soon showed hin to be asleep. ]
. had but htful slumbers until early morning
when the teamser reused me to take hit
leave, and he disappeared.
Nearly n year after, my connection will
the mines took me to Tuscon; and while
; was there, a scouting party came in with
! badly wounded man who had been will
/ them-not a soldier, but one who was al
) ways eager for an Indian fght-and furth
; or than this, nothing was known Of him.
B Out Of curiosity, l went in with the sur
. geon to see him; and there lay Centrepol,
Bill. He recognized no one, but kept in
. deep stupor, bleeding from internal wound
r that could not be stanehed.
D He was an awful fighter said the Doc
4 tor, land has done nothing but follow tn,
scouts"
, doctor" said I, . l know that man. -
And as we watched. / told his story.
We sat there several hours, and at las
the struggle came. The dying man, nis
( ing himself on the pallet, looked iIedly Of
5 the ceiling, and, in q hoarse voice, said:
Q There's the show-and Canvas an
a he fell back, dead.
/" Hooked, aftervard, in his belt, and fouDr
Y two knives, and in each Of the handles Their
were seventeen holes, These keepsakes o
s the man l begged, and hAve them to thi
, day.-0yerldnd Monthly: for January.