Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1874-07-30
A SHOT FOR 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 thousand feet, as the case may
be, above the stream, there lived in
the early time settler by the name OF
Rufus Branson, who, with his wife and
little child, a charming young girl of
some eight or nine years of age, Occu-
pied the rude cabin at the base of the
precipice, little back from the river.
Although greatly exposed to danger,
the Indians at that time being very
plentiful throughout the region, he
managed to live quietly for several
years.
The Indians frequently visited the
rude home of the hunter, and being al
ways welcomed and provided with
such food as was in the larder, they
maintained d friendly attitude. Fs-
pecially were they fond of the child,
Maggie, and more than one fierce war;
rior had been 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 and pill
ant bark.
In this manner several years had
been passed, and Rufus Branson came
to feel as secure as though he was with
in the walls of frontier fort.
One evening Branson and his wife
were seated near the doorway, when
suddenly shadow fell across the path,
and the next moment tall savage,
whose reeIing step and blood-shot eyes
told that he was intoxicated, appeared,
staggering to the log steps, threw him.
sell upon them. His fist demand was
for fire-w water, which was, of course, re-
fused, on the ground that there was
none in the house. The Indian became
cross and ugly, and declared with ter
rible oaths, that if the liquor was not
produced, be would murder the whole
household. Brapson was a brave, de-
termined man, and although he dread
ed 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
a demonstration, which he soon did by
attempting to draw his tomahawk,
Brauson sprang at him, knocked him
down with blow of his fist, and then
quietly disarmed and bound him where
he lay. After few moments of furi-
Gus rawlings and futile efforts to free
himself, the savage rolled over and
sank into drunken sleep. He did
not wake until the next morning, but
before he did so, the settler had quiet
ly removed his bonds and restored his
weapons, which he had laid by the
sleeper's side. The savage, on ava.
kenfng, rose slowly to his feet, felt his
wrists, as though the thongs had left q
feeling there, took up his weapons, and
without speaking word, left and dis.
appeared in the timber near by.
What do you think of that?' asked
the wife, turning to her husband, with
frightened look.
sPshawv Don't trouble your head
about the drunken brutep answered
the settler, lightly; but as he turned
away and stepped into the yard, he
muttered:
Like il? Well, not much The fel.
low must be watched. l was in hopes
that he would not have remembered
hut that lump where my fist landed, II
was enough, if nothing else, to recall
the circumstance
The summer passed, and they saw
their drunken guest no more He fail
ed to make bis appearance. But as the
leaves began to fall, the settler one
day, while returning from hunting on