Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1877-12-14
The Merchants Storv.

Yes, it was rather a curious start
that l had in business. The first
thing did, after having saved lit
tie pile of money, was to set up a
shanty in Sioux City. Ihad all sorts
of traps to allure Indians, and Lwant.
ed to buy any kind of peltries, scalps
excepted. But was a new arrival,
and the noble red man could not be-
leve IN me without help, and l found
trade rather dull. Late one night,
however, as | was sleeping among
my stock, there came a tremendous
banging at my door, and when I un-
barred it, there was tall fellow who
seemed to me little drunk;and said
he: l want a butcher knife. All
right. Come in, SAID l. 1 want a
reliable one, says he. l want it to
kill man with. Give me a strong
handle. l want a knife that l can
put in and turn it around. Says /,
l think can suit you. Walk in and
take look. l knew him by that
time. He was Virginian, splen-
did looking fellow, and belonged to
good family, as l understood, but
he had gone wild on the frontier, and
done a great many illegal things, and
been forced to herd with the Indians.
The consequence was that he spoke
their language and was a person of
influence among them. Well, l felt
little doubtful about his intentions
not knowing but what l was the
man he was after; but all the same
got out my stock of tools and show
ed them.
There was one, nearly two feet
long, which l had bought for a
cheese knife. Says l, think that
would answer your purpose. Yes, |
should think it might, says be. How
much is it? I told him the price
about four shillings, / think. I'll
take it, says he. But I haven't any
meney. Under the circumstances,
seeing he had the knife in his hand
in his fist and was ready to turn it
around, I thought l had better offer
to trust him. You'd better not, says
he. You don't know me from any
other gentlemen. But Pve got to
trust you, says l. You've got the
butcher knife by the handle, and Pm
at the sharp end of it. Besides, l be-
lieve l can trust you. OFF he went,
and | heard no more of him for a
time, not even whether he had killed
a man. But some weeks later he
put in an appearance and paid for
the knife. And now youngster, says
he, [ like the way you treated me
when reused you out for that trade.
You didn't show the white feather.
Some men hustled up at that time of
night, would have been scared. But
you behaved every way like a gen
tleman, and now l want to behave to
you as one. There are some Indians
coming in to-day and Pll bring them
to your shanty to trade. Have you
got any rum? 1 hadn't any rum; l
didn't keep it. Well, says he, we
must have some rum. No rum, no
Injun. Give me couple of dollars.
l gave him the money, and he went
off. When he came back he had
demijohn full of drink and some tum-
blers. An hour or so later the In
dians appeared, some two hundred
of them.
First came the warriors, with their
rifles, bows and tomahawks; then fol-
lowed the squaws, STOPPING almost
to the ground under their loads. My
man halted them, but they didn't
want to trade with me; they didn't
know me. There was long palaver,
and at last he threatened to kill some
of them if they didn't follow his friend
ly advice; and the end of it was they
gave in, to save a quarrel. They
crowded into my little shop, and
drank my demijohn empty, and
bought my stock clean out, and filled
me full of peltries. made $2,5O0
that season, and went off in high
spirits to lose it somewhere else, and
then to pick it up again. As for the
Virginian, l lost sight of him, and
never learned how he ended. didn't
even inquire whether he put his
butcher knife in and turned it around.
1t seemed to me too delicate a sub
ject. atlantic Monthly.