The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1870-02-03

on a tombstone. Jim Bruce says /,
just scratch for lantern; there's some
thin wrong l felt of the body, and
there was wet, sticky stream upon it.
Canvas say l, what is the matter ? and
no word Jim soon fetched light, and
there was Canvas, stone dead, pinned to
the tree by seven arrows. And the
thieves bad cut off his hands and put
them in his pockets, and cut off his ears
and fastened them on his forehead!"
Oh! what a vengeful glitter shOne in
his eye!
Young man, they say when woman
loses her first young un, 1t breaks her,
and as how lion robbed of her cubs is
crazy; but may you never feel as did
when | saw Canyas-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 l saw old
Canvas, cut up like a sheep, and dead for
ever from me. Ten thousand devils was
tuggin' at my heart, and sank, with a
yell, down by his dead side"
The emotion of the stranger almost
overpowered him, as he recalled these
agony days of the past.
They told me afterward that my yell
reused the camp and they came rushing
out to the spring; but l didn't know it
then. / was stunned like, and never knew
what happened. When morning came,
they buried Canvas near where he died.
They didn't leave no mound to draw the
Inluns; but on that ground I knelt and
cried. Idon't look as if could cry, but
did then. Canvas says /, old pard,
you're goncl You was thirty-four years
old. So help me God, I'll kill an Injun
for every year of yours, till l wipe out the
scorer They took me away, and for four
weeks | was laid in fever, which mighty
made me pass in my checks but l didn't
for could't die until I'd kept my word
with Canvas
"Young man." he continued, after a
pause, 81 left that train at Tucson; and
sence that time I've been rOamin.' l have
come in this trip to get a little money,
and Pm goin' back. Dye see this knife?'
He pulled out from his belt a huge,
broad knife, with a wide handle, and
handed it to me. In the wood saw
thirteen holes as if bored with gimlets
"You seee them holes? Every one is q
'Pache It's my account book, and every
Iniun | kill, in goes a hole. I've got a
good many more to make fore l do as
said to Canvas; but I'm goin' back, and
p'r'aps 1 may meet Canvas some day, if L
keep my word, which the preacher says is
the right way"
What room there was here for hOmily
on human vengeance! But l could not
give it.
"We'll, you've kindly heard my story,
and you're from Maine: thank we for
both. Pm going to turn in
And with this rough goodnight, he
rolled himself in his blankets, and the reg
ular breathings soon showed him to be
asleep | had but fitful slumbcrs until
early morning, when the teamster reused
me to take his leave, and he disappeared.
Nearly year after my connection with
the mines took me to Tucson; and while |
was there, scouting party came in with
badly wounded man who was with
them-not a soldier, but one who was
always eager for an Indian fight-and fur
thcr than this, nothing was known OF
him.
Out Of curiosity, l went in with the sur
geon to see him; and there lay Centrepole
Bill. He recognized no one, but kept in a
deep stupOr, bleeding from internal
wounds that could not be stanched.
He was an awful fighter" said the
Doctor, "and he has done nothing but
| follow the scouts"
doctor said /, "I know that man. y
And as he watched, | told his story.
We sat there several hours, and at last
the struggle came. The dying man raising
himself on the ,llet, looked fixedly at the
ceiling, and in IA hoarse voice, said:
"There's show-a Canvas" and he
fell back, dead
l looked, afterward, in his belt. and
found two knives, anu in each of the
handles there were seventeen holes
These kecpsakes of the man | begged
and have them to this Oocriano
| NOntbIu.