The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1880-07-08

ucu tArouBu Tue very HnaAs1s u t40 oeAoiD,
sweeping passage with my ponderous
weapon, and darted away toward the river
bank, followed at first by fight of arrows,
and later by the entire horde-a score or
more-yelling as though fends from the
bottomless pit.
What plan of escape I could followI knew
not. It was more simple desperation that
led me toward the river than any sober
thought; but as neared the stream con-
templated hurting myself into the water and
trusting to luck, either to cross to the other
side or to be swept out of my pursuers'
reach. When, however, I stood upon the
summit of the crumbling bluff, and gazed
waters beneath, that ran swift as a mill race,
lashing themselves to fury and filed with
debris, grew faint with fear, and turned to
face and fight the advancing Apaches, with
better hope of success than if cast myself
into the river.
turned to ight-armed with what?
The barrel Of q broken rife, and two
water soaked pistols.
placed my knife between my teeth, loos-
ened the pistols as q last resort, then grasped
the heavy gun-barrel with both hands, swung
it about my head, and sprang forward just
as my dusky enemies mounted the bluff
the next instant the death struggle began.
cannot describe it. Imagine Q wild, in
coherent roar, q tangled human mass, .
great bar of steel rising and falling with su-
psrhumsn power, crushing, breaking, de-
stroying: Q dozen knives thrust ct one
breast; dozen hands grasping at one
throat cries, groans, blood; and then .
sudden sinking Of the earth itself, shout of
horror, . rush, snd-nothingness .
Together we shot downward, and the yell
low waters of the boiling river closed over
us. The bluff upon which We fought had
given way, and precipitated white man and
red alike into the food. ..s-sH
Down, down, down! Would I never
reach the bottom2 Then up again, and,
half strangled, bufeted this way and that by
the mad swirl of the angry waters, I found
once more the light of day, and, with
drowning mans desperation, clutched at the
first object my fingers touched
That object luckily proved to be great
cottonwood log, whirling down the swift
current from some far-away bottom-land,
and, after terrible exertion, dragged my
self up, secured seat, and was saved. But
for what?
With half -crazed brain, looked about
me. Not an Indian was to be seen, either
ON river or shore. The undertow, more
fierce than even the surface current, must
have swept them away but all about roared
and ran the furious river, a seething, boiling
sluice-way, filed with great logs, treek and
masses of broken hood-wood, that ground,
and tumbled and fought together as men in
Q battle struggle-a river of destruction,
filed with the traces of its own rage and
power-a mad riyer-a river of desolation
and death!
shuddered.
And even as counted thus the frightful
dangers that threatened me, a new one was
added. A long, naked arm was suddenly
thrust upward from the boiling wrack, seiz-
ing the cottonwood upon which rode. A
hideous paint-smeared face followed, and
then an Apache-one of my pursuers
himself forward, and, before could prevent
it, seated himself also upon the floating log.
facing me. q,
For . moment We rode in silence, each
eyeing the other savagely, while the cotton
wood rolled beneath our united weight.
Then the red man, pointing toward the
shore, said, hoarsely: ea5 ta
"Too muchee brave! White man go !"
I made no response, but hung TO my
treacherous seat, while the great tree-trunk
grew each instant more and more unsteady,
threatening to lurch and throw us both into
the food again. 81.
"White man gol" repeated the Apache,
with still more Of anger In his tones.
"Quick!"
Still no reply from me, and, as our ark
made q sudden plunge deeper than ever in
the seething water, my dusky companion
uttered q half frightened, half curious cry,
drew his hunting knife from its sheath, and
began slowly to work his way along the log
toward me. ..J ri-
was totally unarmed-ride, knife and
pistols having been stripped from me in the
struggle ON the bluf. was . victim, SIM
ply, and the coming Indian my executioner.
Hope deserted me. .. Ht
Downward along the pathway of the swift
running river shot the cottonwood, nov
half submerged, and again thrust far ont Of
the yellow water, rolling as ship in q gale,
while chung to it rs . drowning man eings
to q rope; nearer and nearer drew
the demon-facs Of my enemy further and
further retreated, until retreat was no
longer possiLle--the end was at hand.
Already the arm that held the deadly
blade was raised over me-already the gleam
Of murder shone in the wild mans eyes
already my heart stood still, awaiting the
death -stroke-when clear and sharp over
roar of the food rang . single, whip-like
crack, the dull thud Of ball sounded close
at hand, warm blood splashed my face and
hands, and, without groan, the upraised
arm fell, the body of my enemy swsyed
heavily from side to side, his teeth closed
with snap, and, slipping from his seat,
the dead man plunged like q stone into the
surging river, never to rise again. I vas
saved.
Hardly had the truth of this impressed It
self upon me, dazed and half -crazed as
was, when with a whizzing sound q lariat fell
across the log before me, and CHEEKY voice
rang from the bank: .
Make fast the line, Joe-make fast thu
line, and I'll bring you in" .s
Then my spirit sprang mp, and hope re-,
vived again. The voice was thst Of my
partner, brave old Billy Nichols.
With earnest hands caught the slipping
line, passed it quickly about the cottonwood,
and then turned my face shoreward with
glad cry of joy and thankfulness.
Ten minutes later stood upon the mar