The Portland daily press., 1872-03-20
Mark Heber's Luck.
AN INDIAN STORY,

ture pressing upon his thoughts, ana demand
ing prompt solution
His home had been, from his earliest re-
membrance upon a stony, WORKOUT farm of
fifty acres situated upon the Seneca Lake, in
Western New York. His father had become
so heavily involved in debt, that two weeks
before his death the farm had been sold nv
foreclosure of mortgage.
And now what was Mark to do?
He was lad Of nineteen, slight and boyish
in frame, but with the strength of man in
his sinewy arms. He had had the usual ad-
vantages of education afforded to farmers
sons.
lie returned home from his fathers grave
to the small implanted story and ahalf house,
and after him came his fathers only brother.
a well-to-do farmer, who resided in the neig-
borhood.
This uncle, William Heber, was a man of
sixty yerrS, pompous and self-lmpOrtant.
His soul was of the smallest pattern, and he
had never been known to do generous deed,
while he had done many mean ones
'Well, Marx" said his uncle, ''Pve sent
my folks on home, so that l can have a good
talk with you. Morgan tells me he wants the
farm. He has held off two weeks while
George was dying, but he wants to move In
next week. What are you going to dop'
81 don't know, uncle, am trying to think.
What can do?''
II have thought the matter over" said Mr..
Heber, ''and have thought upon plan. l
am willing to take you, Mark, and treat YOU
as my own son. You shall have home at
my house, and seat at my table. What do
you say?"
''You forget uncle, that l have some one to
provide for besides myself" said Mark. Sup
pose, | were to accept this offer of yours,
what will you do for Gay?''
The girl is no relation Of yours, Mark
The boy sighed.
''Poor little Gay" he said; ''hers is hard
lot. ''Do you remember how the child came
by her name? 1t is thirteen years this spring
since lady stopped at our door and asked
leave to remain over night. She staid ON day
after day, growing weaker and weaker 1t
did not take long to discover that she was in
sane. She called the child Gay, and some
times Gabrielle, which is Gays true name.
But she did not tell her surname, nor any,
thing concerning herself. Late that summer
she died. No one ever came to inquire after
her or the child"
"Her mother was crazy tramp. and moth
ing more No wonder George was behind
hand, when his wife adopted the child of a
tramp and brought her up lady," said his
uncle.
Mark colored.
II cannot hear word against my mother,
SIR" he said. II shall protect Gay while
live, and she shall not be separated from me-"
Then wash my hands of you," exclaim-
ed Mr.. Heber angrily. ''You can go your
own way, and get your own living.''
every well, sir,' said Mark quietly; s'that
is settled Them
In one week Mark had sold pair of colts
which he had raised himself, for five hundred
dollars, the household furniture for nearly as
much more, and was on his way, with little
Gay, to the far West, to seek their fortune.
The young travellers arrived at Leaven-
worth after long and fatiguing journey.
Here Mark, while looking for wagon and
a yoke of oxen with which to cross the prai-
ries, fell in with an old farmer named Whit
man, who had been living in Western Kan
sas, but did not like it, and was now ON his
way to Nebraska. Mark concluded to Join
him, and Mr.. Whitman assisted him in pur-
chasing suitable outfit, and that same night
Mark and Gay were snugly ensconced in their
huge travelling wagon, outside of the city,
on the edge of the prairie, where Mr.. Whit
man, with his wife and seven children, had
encamped. Six other families were with
them-the seven wagons being "parked'' in
the form of a circle-that is, the pole of one
wagon resting upon the ofrear another-and the
oxen mules, horses, cows, dogs and pigs be-
ing gathered into the circle thus protected.
Outside the circle of wagons a great fire was
burning, and as Mark wagon drove up, the
conductor of the train, Mr.. Landlord, came
forward and welcomed the newcomers.
1t seemed to Gay and to Mark that they
had entered new and wondrous world.
Both lay long awake that night in their
wagon, close up under the canvass roof, and
they talked in whispers of their great future,
and wondered what it had in store for them.
The next morning at daybreak the camp
was astir. By sunrise the wagon train was
on its way toward the northwest
At night they halted beside a small stream
and parked the wagons, and had supper, and
talked and sang songs and told stories, like
one great joyous family. se az
At daybreak, again they were on the way.
In the course of ten days, having travelled
rapidly for OK teams, they reached the Little
Blue river, branch of the Big Blue. The
women built fires and began the preparation
of supper. The men proceeded to park the
wagons. sf
''The last train I took over this route was
attacked by Indians just here" said Conduc-
tor Landlord. ''They were unusually bold.
and we had tough fght-Good Heavens
What is that ?''
He beheld, by the last rays of the sunset,
mounted band of Indians, their weapons gilt
tering in the yellow light, their plumes nod
dig in the wind, as they came on like a
whirlwind.
''Ladiansr yelled the conductor, in
voice that made every woman's face turn
white. ''Pawnees or Sioux, L can't tell which,
Ihey seem to be on on the war path. / can
see their weapons. They outnumber u.s.
counting in our women. Call in the children.
We shall have to defend ourselves"
He blew a shrill blast on his bugle that
rang out far and wide. They were sweeping
down upon the train, with whoops and wells
murder and rapine in their very aspect.
Conductor Landlord was skilled in Indian
warfare, and was a scout of considerable note
There are twenty savages," he announc-
A lhAt.h hoy Gxrl~@ =
your mothers and sisters. Show us what
stuff you are made Of"
Then he shouted:
''Now, men, the gun! Have out the gun
They are in war paint, and mean mischief
When give the word, firep'
The Indians came nearer and nearer, ad-
vancing in a straight line.
Nov, boys give them hint that we are
not fooling," said the guide grimly :
Mark Heber and his young comrades fired
avolIey
phe next moment a shower of bullets came
hurting towards the defender of the camp.
The gunP' cried Landlord. ''Gve it to
'em, Whitman
Whitman did ''give it to Them" moving
down three mounted sayages, horses and
riders rolling over and over in horrible death
agony.
The remaining savages again came to a
halt, but only for an instant. With terrific
warwhoop, they came on again to the on
slaught, firing as they came, and looking like
incarnate demons.
''All togetherr' cried the guide.
The other men and all the boys fired, each
with especial aim. Six mounted savages fell
before the deadly rain.
A panic Immediately seized upon the sur
vivors. In the midst of it Whitman grimly
touched off his field-picce anew.
This ended the conflict. The savages with
horrible yells beat an instantaneous retreat,
leaving their dead upon the field, and drag
ging away their wounded.
Armory had bullet wound in his shoulder
and Arnold's eldest son had flesh wound in
his arm, but neither OF these injuries was
serious.
care you safe. Gay? demanded Mark,
coming toward her.
"Yes, but Pm almost smothered,'' answer
ed Gay. Have the savages surely gone.
Mark ?'
Gay cautiously crept forth while she was
speaking. The remaining wagons disgorged
their crouchlng occupants, women and chill
dren coming forth pale and trembling, but
full of joyful gratitude at their ESCAPE from
DEATH or fate worse than death The camp
took on its usual appearance even before the
retreatng savages were entirely lost to view
in the far distance. That night they encamp-
ed upon the prairie, and met with no. adven-
ture. A guard was maintained as on the pre-
vious night, but no Indians were to be seen.
Every day for the week that followed the