National Republican. (Washington City (D.C.)) 1872-1888, 1881-03-19
THE BOY AND THE BRAVE;
Or, the Savage Combat In the Gloomy
Jungle.

| Brightly the golden glare of the noon
tide sun beat down on the prairies and canyons of
| Brooklyn. The heavy SHOWS of hard winter lay
on the bunch and buffalo grass, and down the ifs
| sures of the rocky mountain side the stormy tor
rents poured resistleSsly.
! Ferdinand Dc Leon gazed upon the beauties Of
nature with a cloudy brow. Fourteen summers
| had invested him with noble ambitions not alto
gether disconnected with buffalo and Indians and
as he gazed across the valley in which he lived,
his face turned stern and cold, for he remembered
| that the buffalo were travelling further TO the
south, and his faithful runners had told him that
the Sioux in the Northwes were falling like plums
into the hands of their enemies.
| His young soul painted as the swift thought of
! vengeance hurried through his burning BRAIN
And this is the pay of pirate !" he muttered
90 For years have roamed the stormy coasts Of our
! streets, and yet no scalp decorates my belt. My
| wigwam shows no sign of the chase. 1 see the
| trail of the enemy ON every hand, but he eludes
me. Enough of this must have blood In the
! deep jungle underneath my house dwells E.
| Tonche- Oappe Mnne-K and ere yonder sun
| has tipped the spire on Fulton canyon will have
| his hairr'
| The young warrior turned and went into the
house, but the smile ON his compressed lips BODIED
no good to the savage chief upon whom he had
| fixed his vengeance.
Ferdinand De Leon, the Screech Owl of the
! Third ward, was terror to his bailiwick. He had
never killed anybody particularly, but he had
bossed around considerably, and the gloomy glance
of his eye had warned than settler that he
was dangerous when aroused. The dusky maidens
of the surrounding friendly tribes had contem-
plated him with favor but they brought no incense
to his thirsty soul, which nothing but blood could
satisfy. E-Toncha- Oappe- Minne-Kua had ever
been his friend. In the long days when Ferdinand
was out of q job, he had sat on the old chief and
ate picked oysters, and many hole he had bored
in the stomach of the wary savage when, in his
inventive days, he had tried to fit hinge ON the
broom handle that it might fold up and be used
q clothes pin. But the hour of friendship had
passed out upon the sea of war, and the solitary
Indian was doomed.
"Thoult have work before night, my trrsty
Brown Bess" muttered Ferdinand, the Screech
Owl, as he tendery stroked the sympathetic barrel
of his faithful revolver Then, as if ashamed of
the momentary feeling of softness, he thrust the
weapon into his jacket pocket and plunged into
the jungle under his house.
Far away in the shadowy corner he saw his prey
lying upon the ground. In the dim and itful light
of the Pickering gas-jet it looked like log, but
Ferdinand knew better, and embarking upon his
light canoe, with a slight movement of his sturdy
arm he sent the frail bark far out into the middle
of the gloomy cellar.
"Think not to deter me-" he muttered as he sat
in the coal bin and rested on his paddle. "There
is not room for thee and me in this canyon Art
heeled?'
The Indian made no response, but lay quiet in
his ambush of shadows
Prepare to diei" shouted the brave boy scorn-
ing to take his enemy by surprise; and, holding
one hand over the muzzle of his trusty Brown Bess
to deaden the report, lest it alarm the neighbor-
hood, he turned his head from the sickening sight
and blazed away.
81 thought not to die so young said Ferdinand,
as several friendly tribes carried him out of the
cellar and laid him out a stool in his WigwaIn
had hoped-is he dead?" he asked, interrupting
himself
HE fain still hveth,' said the medicine man,
"if you mean the log down cellar" and he yanked
the bullet from Ferdinand's fist. "You can go
seven more fingers and two thumbs on him." and
the faithful servant turned away.
And the peaceful night fell upon the canyons
and prairies of Brooklyn: fell upon the dismal
iunglein which E. Toncha- Mime Kua slept peace
fully; fell upon the wigwam in which the Screech
Owl of the Third ward lay in calm, pale agony try
ing to swap his trusty Brown Bess for roll of
sticking plaster.