The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1883-11-21
SNAKES IN THE GRASS.

Is the wagon OF the lone eml2rdnI laf1lly,
its cover weather-worn and rent to prove
that the journey has been long and
weary. Ten feet away are the embers of
the FIRE on which the evening meal was
cooked. Between the wagon and the
fire is the rude bed of robes and blankets
on which mother and children are Sleep
ing. On the other side of the, vehicle
stand the horses, munching at the short,
sweet grass or listening TO the far-off
voice of the wolf.
This is the back ground. In the fore
ground a sentinel sits with his back to
the solitary cottonwood. AT his right
hand runs a little brook-at his left is
the boundless prairie o'er which night
has spread her mantle. Forty feet away
are wife and children trusting in his
vigilance. Overhead gray-white clouds
are driving across the star-lit heavens,
and the moan of the wind has an uneasy,
nervous sound. Away out on the prairie
the wolf gallops from knoll to knoll
and snuffs the air, and the coyote gnaws
at the bleached bones of the buffalo, and
utters his short, sharp cries of hunger.
Is there dangerP All day long as the
tired horses pulled the wagon at a slow
pace, the emigrant has carefully scanned
the circle about him, but without cause
Indian country, and for the last twenty
four hours his nerves have been braced
to hear their dreaded war-whoop and
to catch sight of band riding down
upon him.
1t is midnight as we find him. His
ear has been as keen rs fox's and his
eye has not rested for q moment. The
stakes are human liYes-his life with
the rest. The odds are ten to one
against him.
.sAhl if we were back ut the old
home in Ohioi You remember the old
farmhouse hidden away among the
cherry and pear-trees2 There is the
highway, lined with dusty May-weeds.
Half n mile beyond is the quaint little
school-house, where the children
learned their A, B, c.. Half 3 mile
above is the bridge across the"
The sentinel rouses up and rubs his
eyes. 1t was the creek talking to him.
As he listened to its monotonous babble
| it suddenly began to converse in plain
| tongue. For q moment he is thrilled
and alarmed. He looks keenly about,
and he listens with bated breath.
| There are the same sounds-the wall of
the coyote-the munching of the horses
the babbling of the brook-now and
then half groan from one of the chill
dren sleeping an uneasy sleep. And
now the brook talks again:
There was the big brown barn full
| of sweet-smelling hay-the pasture lot
with its cows--the pond in which the
bare-legged children used to wade--the
orchard with its burden of fruit. Don't
you remember how you used to sit on
the stoop at evening-time and smoke
your pipe and watch the children at
| play on the grassp How peaceful every
thing wasl There was drowsy feel
ing in the summer air-the lazy hum of
insects low songs of the good wife
as she rocked baby to sleep-who, you
sometimes fell asleep and let your pipe
| drop from"
| The brook babbled aud the man slept.
| Aye, the sentinel who had five lives in
his keeping slept and dreamed, and in
his dreams wandered back to the old
home and heard the old familiar sounds.
"Shi'' 1t was q rustic in the grass!
Turn to the left a little more. There it
| isl Thirty feet from the sleeping man q
rattlesnake rears its head above the
grass and looks around. It's eyes gleam
like stars. The neck swells, the tongue
flashes in and out. and it coils and un-
coils itself as if il fierce combat. Now
it is advancing-now it swerves to the
right-now to the left-now il halts and
coils itself to strike. 1t might creep up
and bury its fangs in the flesh of the
sleeping man, and it will 1t creeps
again. 1t glides through the grass like
a gleam-now to the right-now to the
left--now straight ahead.
s'S-s-s-hr'
The serpent halts. Twenty feet more
auu It cou1u Tavs struck the sleeper. bui
some movement of his has alarmed it
and it glides away for fifty feet as fast a:
4 shadow travels.
Now look teyOnd the snake! Is it 6
second serpent worming its way over the
ground to surround the sleeper with
peril? Is it wolf or panther creeping
forward to make a victimP Now you
can see more clearly. There is the
scalp-lock and feathers-the dark face
the cleaning eyes-the shut teeth and
bronzed throat of Blackfoot warrior.
A courier from one branch of his tribe
to another; he has discovered the equip.
ment, circled around it twice, and is
now creeping upon the man. who sleeps
instead of watches.
How softly he movesI A panther
stealing upon n listening doe would not
exercise more care. Almost inch by
inch, and yet he is slowly approaching.
He was a hundred feet away. Now be
is ninety-eighty-s y-seventy-sixtyl He
can see a dark mass at the foot of the
tree, and he knows that the sentinel
must be asleep or he would not be in
that position.
See the rattlesnake! 1t has faced
about. If it was daylight you could see
q fiercer CLEAN in its eye-a tightening
of the cords and MUSCLES fiercer flash
of the red tongue. A straight line OF
sixty feet drawn from the Indian to the
tree would pass over the snake. Now
the warrior creeps forward again not
q weed breaking-not rustic to prove
his presence. Two feet-four-six
See the snake! Its head is thrown back
its eyes shoot sparks-there goes the
deadly z-z-z-z-z of his rattle. The head
of the Indian is not three feet away as
he hears the ominous sound. He draws
back, but there is a dart, flash, and
something strikes him full in the face
and is not shaken off until he springs
to his feet with a cry heard for half q
mile around and rushes away IN the
darkness.