The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1877-12-22
The Merchants Story.


Yes. it was rather curious stan that
| had in business. The first thing did,
after having saved little pile of money,
was to set up a shanty in Sioux City. /
had all sorts of traps to allure Indians,
and wanted to buy any kind of pei
tries, scalps excepted. But was new
arrival, and the noble red man couldn't
believe in me without help, and l found
trade rather dull. Late one night, how
ever, as Twas sleeping among my stock,
there came tremendous banging at
my door, and when | unbarred it there
was tall fellow who seemed to me a
little drunk; and said he: Il want a
butcher-knife." "All right. Come in,
said |. 81 want a reliable one," says
he. Il want it to kill a man with. Give
me good strong handle. | want a
knife that l can put in and turn it
around" Says l: II think | can suit
you. Walk in and take a look" l
knew him by that time. He was Vir-
gilman, splendid-looking fellow, and
belonged to a good family, as l under
Stood 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, [ felt
little doubtful about his intentions,
not knowing but that | was the mamie
was after; but all the same got out ny
stock of tools and showed them. There
was one, nearly two feet long, which |
had bought for cheese knife. Says e.
Il think that would answer your pur-
pose" Eyes, l should think itmight, :"
says he How much is it?' told him
the price-about four shillings, think.
I'm take it," says he. "But haven't
any money" Under the circumstances,
seeing he had the knife in his fist and
was ready to turn it around, | thought
| had better offer to trust him. "You' d
better not says he. ''You don wknow
me from any other gentleman" but
I've got to trust YOU saysL. you've
got the butcher-knife by the handle,
and I'm at the sharp end of it. Be
sides, | believe L can trust you"
Off he went, and l heard no more of
| him for time, not even whether he
had killed man. But some weeks
later he put in an appearance and paid
for the knife. And now, yourgster, y
says he, Il 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 gentle
man, and now | want to behave to you
as one. There are some Indians COM
ing in to-day, and I'll bring them to
your shanty to trade. Have you got
any rum?" hadn't any rum; didn't
keep it. "Well," says he, ave must
have some rum. No rum, no Injun.
Give me couple of dollars" gave
him the money and he went off. When
he came back he had a demijohn full
of drink and some tumblers. An hour
or so later the Indians appeared, some
200 of them. First came the warriors,
with their rifles, bows and tomahawks;
then followed the squaws, STOPPING al
most to the ground under their loads.
| Ny man halted them, but they didn' t
want to trade with me; they didn't
know me. There was a long palaver,
and at last he threatened to kill some OF
them if they didn't follow his friendly
advice; and the end of it was that 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 $1,000 that season,
and went off in high spirits to lose it
somewhere else, and then to pick it up
again. As for the Virginian, | 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 deli
cate subject.-AtLantic Monthly.