Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1878-10-24

slowing on me the hand Of his lovely and &C
complished daughter It is worth running
the risk of being skinned alive, to secure
wife as lovely and lovingly as my Anita"
A CLOSE SHOT.
Where the Kentucky river cuts its way
through the mountains, having upon either
bank bold rugged cliffs that lift their summits
five hundred and thousand feet, as the case
may be, above the stream, there lived, in ear
ly times, settler by the name of Rufus Bran
son, who, with bis wife and only child, q
charming little girl of some eight or nine
years, occupied a rude cabin at the base of q
precipice little back from the river.
Although greatly exposed to danger--the
Indians at that time being plentiful through
out the region-he managed to live quietly
for several years.
The Indians frequently visited the horne Of
the rude hunter, and being always welcome
and provided with such food as might he in
the larder, they maintained very friendly
attitude. ... .....
Especially were they fond of the child
Maggie, and more than one fierce warrior
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 it some
toy or plaything from twigs or bark.
In this manner several years bad been
passed, and Rufus Branson came to feel as
secure as though he was within the walls of a
frontier fort.
One evening Branson and his wife we're
seated near the doorway when suddenly a
shadow fell across the threshold, and the next
moment, tall savage, whose reeling and
bloodshot eyes, told that he was intoxicated,
appeared, staggered to the log steps and threw
himself upon them.
His first demands we're for 'ire-water,
which were, of course, refused on the plea
that there was none in the house: ."
The Indian became cross and ugly, swear
ing, with terrible oaths, that if the liquor was
not produced, he would murder the house
hold. Branson was brave man, and ell.
though he dreaded the necessity, yet be saw
that be would be compelled to take prompt
steps to prevent the savage from executing
his threats. Waiting until the warrior had
made monstration-which he soon did by
attempting to draw his tomahawk, Branson
sprang upon him, knocked him down with a
blow of his 6st and then disarmed him and
bound him where he lay. After few min
utes of futile efforts to free himself, the saw.
age rolled over and sunk into drunken
slumber. .,., ..-a .. .... ..
He did not awake until next morning, but
before he did 80, the settler had quietly re.
moved his bands, and restored the weapons,
c,k bo l., IL hx,t tho o1oonor5o osAa
The savage, on waking, rose slowly to his
feet, felt bis wrists, as though the thongs had
left feeling there, took up his weapons, and
without speaking word, left, disappearing
in the timber that stood near by.
"What do you think of that" asked the
wife, turning to the husband with scared
look.
"Pshaw! Don't trouble yourself about the
drunken brute auswered the settler. lightly.
but as he turned away, and stepped into the
yard, he muttered: Like it! Well not
much. The fellow must be watched. | was
in hopes he would not have remembered but
that lump, where my fist landed, was enough,
if nothing else, to recall the circumstance"
The summer passed they saw the drunk
en- guest no more. He failed to make his ap-
pearance But as the leaves began to fall,
the settler, one day, while returning from
hunting on the hills, and passing through a
dense piece of timber, caught sight of fig
ure lurking in the bushes, but which quickly
disappeared when be advanced towards where
it was. The figure was that of an Indian
warrior, and Rufe Branson would have sworn
that it was the Indian whom he had knocked
down and bound the previous summer. The
knowledge was not in any way comforting,
hence he did not tell his wife of the discov-
cry. 1t would have alarmed her without
perhaps, any good result. He merely told
her be had discovered bear tracks near by,
and she and the child must stay within or
close to the house when he was absent.
Several days afterward, Rufe Branson
heard his dogs in the timber, down by the
river, and, knowing that they never opened
without good cause, he caught up bis rifle
and FASTENED to where they were barking
They had struck a fresh bear trail, and as
he arrived in sight they fairly lifted it, going
on in a straight line down the river.
The chase had led him several miles, and
when at last he got his shot, that finished
Bruins career, be found that it was three or
four o'clock in the afternoon.
Swinging his game to sapling, out of
reach of cat or wolf, he started for home to
get the old gray mare and return and fetch
it that night.
Taking cut he approached the cabin from
the Western side, where the timber grew
heavy up to within few rods of the building,
and, consequently, he could not see the clear
ing, or what might be trsnspiring there, until
he had passed through the wood.
Thus it was that when within but very
short distance from his home, he heard wild,
piercing shrek; he could guess that some.
thing terrible must be taking place beyond
the screen of bushes and leaves.
Uttering loud shout, that his presence
might sooner be made known, Branson sprang
forward with the leaps of wounded buck, a
great fear at his heart, but he had only too
clearly recognized in that scream, the agon-
lied voice of his wife. 1t took but moment
for him to near the intervening timber and
underground, and, as he dashed out into the
clearing, holding his rife ready for instant
use, he comprehended in one swift glance, all
that had taken place and what was further.
Near the end Of the cabin, facing the cliffs
of which I have spoken, stood the mother,
her face as white as the dead, her arms out
stretched, and her staring eyes fixed upon the
precipitous height up which the form of an
Indian warrior was struggling.
my child my child p was all the woman
said, and then Rufus Branson saw that the
bundle borne in the Indians arms was the
form of their only child, little Maggie.