Smyrna times. [volume] (Smyrna, Del.) 1854-1987, 1881-02-16
The Scouts Last Shot.

noat on lazy wings, and birds are singing
their sweetest songs. 1t is a scene of deep.
est peace. Away to the right is the Little
Bear range Of mountains-to the left of
the prairie ocean extends as far as the eye
can reach. Ten miles ahead is grove of
cotton.woods and a. spring-behind are
thirty half'naked savages on horseback
Here is frontier scout as the pivot on
which the scenery swings. On his way
from fort to fort with dispatches, his trail
has been struck by war party of Pawnees,
and they have hung to it since dark last
night, following it across the levels and
over the swells at slow but never ending
gallop. They know that he was a full
hundred miles from help, and they knew
that his bloody scalp would add another
to their trophies.
You're a rubbed.out man." said the
scout, as he looked back at dusk and saw
them coming at a slow gallop over his trial
They could not have Overtaken him in a
dash of two miles, but in gallop of fifty
they would tire him out
At an easy gallop of five miles an hour
the mustang forged ahead through the
long and weary night, changing his pace
only when the rider got down and ran be.
side him.
Two miles behind him, riding thirty
abreast and covering a front of half a
mile, followed the implacable foe, gaining
a little, losing little; but ever confident.
When the sun came up from his prairie
bed not savage was missing. The scout
turned in his saddle and counted them,
looked ahead for landmarks, and coolly
said
You took the chances, and you have
lost, but you will die game"
The mustang was almost blown. For
the last half hour he had labored heavily,
and had almost been held up by the bits.
The grove would have been a better
place, but the end would have been the
same" said the scout, as he drove up and
dismounted.
The Indians were two miles away. In
ten minutes they would be within rife.shot.
"Good-bye, old pard-I must do it,"
said the scout, as he took hold of the
mustangs head and drew his knife across
the faithful equine's throat.
He wanted breastwork, and here he
had 1t. Two minutes were time enough to
cut bride and saddle to pieces, and then
he mounted the body Of his dead friend
and calmly awaited the approach of the
Indians
No shout of triumph was sent across the
prairie as he was brought to bay. That
had suddenly appeared on his trail without
a sound, seeming to rise out Of some fissure
In the hower'covered prairie. Not once
through the long night had the scout heard
from them except as he dropped from the
saddle and placed his ear to the ground.
But for the steady thud, thud, of their
horses feet, he might have almost made
himself believe that he was being pursued
by shadows.
sixteen bullets in this Winchester, and
SIX in the revolver" soliloquzed the scout,
as the Indians were within a mile of the
spot. Did they mean to ride him down d?
Each rider was bent over his horses neck,
and each kept the pace he had had for
hours.
My scalp is worth the scalp of ten In.
dians" said the scout, as he raised his
rifle, "but mebbs l can't get over six or
seven"
Straight at him rode the line Of thirty
redskins until he raised his rife for shot.
Then the band divided right and left
and inclosed him in circle. Not shout
from any tongue. 1t might have been
called a still hunt.
The line was out of riAe.shot at first, but
1t gradually worked nearer, and at last the
report OF the scouts rifle broke the still.
ne-s of the morning.
"Twenty.nine left - he said as he threw
out the empty shell.
Not a shot came from the Indians in re.
ply. Every warrior threw himself on the
opposite side of his horse, and the hardy
ponies followed the circle at a steady gaIlop.
Twenty eight left II said the scout, as
he fred again.
No shout or shot in reply, but the circle
was growing narrower.
Twentyseven left |"
Three Of the horses in tho ring were gal.
Looping without riders.
"Twentysix left"
The scout had fred cooly and deliber.
ately, shooting every victim through the
head. His rife had longer range than
those of the Indians, but now they were
near enough to open in reply.
twenty-five left ~ he said, as another
savage fell into the grass with wild scream
of rage and pain.
Five of the thirty were dead. Now q
yell runs around the circle, and every
horse turns his head towards the common
center and charges the scout.
"Putfl bang puff bang bang bangp
Three horses went down, and two more
riders fell backward from their saddles.
Twenty three left |" counted the scout,
as he dropped the gun and leveled his re
volver.
They were upon him. They shot o.
him, struck at him, and tried to ride over
him.
Puff bang puff bangl
Five shots struck men or horses, and
when the hammer fell for the sixth time
it sent the last bullet into the brain of the