The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1873-11-07
A SHOT FOR A LIFE.

Where the Kentucky river cuts its
way through the mountains, having upon
either bank bold, rugged cliffs, that lift
| their SUBMITS five hundred and thou
| sand feet, as the case may be, above the
! stream, there lived in early times q set
| tier by the name of Rufus Rranson,
who with his wife and little child, a
charming young girl of some eight OF
nine years of age, occupied the rude
cabin at the base of the precipice a lit
| tie back from the river.
| Although greatly exposed to danger,
the Indians at that time being very plen-
tiful throughout the region, he managed
to live quietly for several years.
The Indians frequently visited the
rude home of the hunter, and being
always welcomed and provided with
such food as was in the larder, they
maintained a friendly attitude. Espe
cially were they fond of the child,
Maggie, and more than one fierce war
rior had been seen sitting on the grass
in front of the cabin, listening to the
childish prattle of the little one, or else
engaged in making her some toy or
plaything from willow twigs or plant
bark. ....
In this manner several years had been
passed, and Rufus Branson came to feel
as secure as though he was within the
walls of frontier fort. One evening
Branson and his wife were seated near
the doorway, when suddenly shadow
fell across the threshold, and the next
moment a tall savage, whose reeling
step and bloo5shot eyes told that he was
intoxicated, appeared, and staggering to
the log steps threw himself upon them.
His first demand was for fre-water,
which was of course refused, on the
ground that there was none in the
house. The Indian became cross and
ugly, and declared with terrible oaths
that if the liquor was not produced he
would murder the whole household.
Branson was a brave, determined man,
and although he dreaded the necessity,
yet he saw he would be compelled to
take prompt steps to prevent the savage
from executing his threat
Waiting until the warrior had made
demonstration, which he soon did by
attempting to draw his tomahawk,
Branson sprung at him, knocked him
down with blow of his fist, and then
quietly disarmed and bound him where
he lay. After few moments of furious
rawlings and futile efforts to free himself,
the savage rolled over and into a
drunken sleep. He did not awake until
the next morning, but before he did so
the settler had quietly removed his
bonds and restored the weapons, which
he laid by the sleeper's side. The saw
age, on awakening, rose slowly to his
feet, felt his wrist, as though the thongs
had left feeling there, took up his
weapons and, without word, left and
disappeared in the timber near by.
'What do you think of that?" asked
the wife, turning to her husband with
frightened look.
"Pshaw Don't trouble your head
about the drunken brute !" answered
the settler, lightly; but as he turned
away and stepped into the yard he NUT
tered:
Like it? Well, not much. The fell
low must be watched. 1 was in hopes
that he would not have remembered,
but that lump, where my fist landed, |
was enough. if nothing else, to recall
the circumstance.
The summer passed, and they saw
their drunken guest no more. He
failed TO make his appearance. But as
the leaves began to fall, the settler one
day, while returning from hunting on