The Grange advance. [volume] (Red Wing, Minn.) 1873-1877, 1877-02-21

fust sighted him, and he stood in his
tracks and killed two ponies and one
injun. There was a gang of forty or
fifty reds, and the white man moved
to get among the hills and have fair
play. Jist look thar -
Fifteen or twenty rods ahead were
three dead ponies lying close together.
The. band of redskins had made a charge
upon the lone man at this point, and
be had met them bravely. The snow
told everything. Standing in his tracks
and not lifting foot except to turn
around, he had whipped the whole
gang! There were three dead ponies
within hundred feet of the white
mans position, and again the snow
was crimsoned with two great patch
es of blood where the warriors had
fallen.
;, ''Great God! but how he fit 20
whispered the old hunter, as he saw
how the snow had been trampled
down. ''But they wounded him
here"
Nv they had. He had retreated SLOW
ly, seeming to have no fear, and along
his trail was a track of blood. The
first hills were mile away, and
straight for the hills ran the: bloody
path through the snow. There were
no sounds of confict-no red demons
in sight. (Which for who' had met
early in the morning, and the tragedy
had been played before the sun was
two hours old. Again, between the
three dead ponies and the first hill the
white man had been charged by the
full bald. They had circled around
him and then charged at common
center. One lone man, armed with a
carbine and an ak, was that center.
Thirty, forty, perhaps fifty to one, and
yet he had not weakened in the least.
On the right was dead pony, on the
left two crimson spots in the snow.
Ahead toward the hill a horse had
fallen and struggled up, and half a
dozen trails of blood could be counted.
The Indians had given way, and at a
slow pace the white man had resumed
his journey.
"You will see sight to make your
flesh crawl, over in the hills ~ whis-
| pered the hunter, land the party slowly
| advanced.
The lone man had not hurried his
pace. The yelling, bowling, whooping
redskins galloping around him, firing
upon him and sure of his scalp, had
not shaken his nerve. Over the hill,
across little valley, up ravine, and
there was the end. The white man
could go no further, land there he stood
at bay.
'May the Lord have mercy on him.
gasped miner, as the little band
looked over the field of battle. There
were dead and wounded ponies there
were blood patches on the snow, and
four Indians stark and stiff, were lying
to one side, the survivors not having
horses enough to carry off all their
dead.
At the head of the ravine the snow
had scarcely color except red. The
redskins had charged in a body, and
dropping his carbine when the last
cartridge was gone, the lone man had
used his axe with awful effect. They
had shot him and struck him with
their tOmahawks, and when life went
out he had more wounds than could
be counted. There he lay, the axe.
still clutched with giants grip, his,
eyes wide open, his body covered with
wounds, and before him was record
to prove more terrible fight than
Clusters. He had fought fifty men
single-handed. He had driven them
back again and again, and dozen
lives had been taken for his one.
(which for who,'' he had said, and
"who'' had Won, but it was not VIC
tory for the red men to boast over.
When they rode out of the valley
every horse had a double burden of
living and dead, and yet some had to
be left behind.
The party could not dig up the froz-
en- ground to give the brave man bur-
ial. Fifty miles away the gaunt
wolves were tearing at the bodies Of
wife and children. AS the party
turned away from the horrible sight,
gaunt wolves crept down to strip these
bones also. They rushed from corpse
to corpse, crashing their yellow fangs,
and before the sun went down another
record of the plains and hills were
hidden from sight of the traveller.