The semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1882-1886, 1883-10-24
oiled Came"
1t is morning on the prairie.

the dim, faT-aWay outline OF q noun
tain range; to the moth q shadow,
lire which may mean hills or timber
to the west and the south 8 broad
level ocean o fgreen grass which ha
no limit. It seems as level as q foo
to the eye, but it is cut up with DRY
ravines and bitches, and there ar,
sharp ridges and pitches and sunker
spots.
The sur is warm, the air still, anG
every blade of grass is loaded with
diamond dew drops. There is nc
bird to cDirp, and no crickets to cal
out, but there is no feeling OF loneli'
ness. One who faces that morning
sun and feels the vastness of the
prairie is lost in quiet amazement.
There is an awe upon him akin Ia
that which man feels when he sees
the ocean dashed in mighty fury
The n is an exhibition Of Divine
anger-the other of Divine peace.
See! A rough clad, full bearded
man, Of iron muscles and fearless
: courage, suddenly arises up from q
hollow, losses aside his blanket, and
slowly turns his head in every di.
rection to a the green grass sea.
At the same moment bis horse
emergts from a DIP which has hereto
fore sheltered him, and with a whin-
ny of recognition and pleasure adj
vances straight toward his master.
Acne! Man and horse ale the on
ly living creatures il. in sight. They
are as much lost to the world as two
grains of sand washing to and fro in
the Atlantic. The masters hand
steals up until it rests upon the
horses neck, and the faithful animal
crowds 4 bit nearer. Both are awed
by the broad expanse. The mighty
grandeur Of nature steals ia upon the
mans soul, and it seems to pass like
an electric current to the horse. He
raises his head. His nostrils expand.
His eyes grow clearer and larger.
~urely he must see the picture spread
out before him there, and something
of its beauty must BE- felt.
See that! The mans hand goes w
to shade his eyes. He is looking
straight to the west. He stands like
a rock, and his eyes are as keen as an
eagles. The horse is looking in the
same directiOn;ears pricked forward,
lips quivering and every muscle in
his legs frightened up as if for a race
What is ii? a fiutt r on the surface
of the prairie caught the mans eye
for an instant and then disappeared.
1t was two miles away. It was only
a trife; but on that trife depended
his life. A shipwrecked sailor catch
es his breath at the sight of. every
white cloud creeping above the water
line. The hunter OF the prairie feels
his heart pound at the futter OF a
birds wing-the bark of a cayote-
the h0"t of an owl-at the sight Of a
boof print or a broken bush. These
may mean nothing, or they may
mean an ambush-a race for life
capture and torture.
"Yi! vi! VII"
The le~vel-seeming prairie is broken
two miles away by a dry ravine
deeper than a mans height. This
curves and bends and leads on four
milf 8. Scrambling out of its depth,
and each n sounding his war-hoop
as he mounted his pony. are a score
of Indians.
For two days the hunter had swept
the horizon in vain. He was alone
in the great ocean. Night had been
tranquil and full of sound sleep.
Here, now, rising like spectors from
the earth before him, is a band Of
blood-,hirsty demons raving for his
life. The sight stuns him for a few
seconds. Then flinging the saddle
his horse, picks up his rifle, and
yet the Indians are a mile aud
a half away, he mounts and heads
for the east.
A race for life has begun.
The hunters horse strikes into a
long, steady gallop, which would
keep him alongside a train of cars.
There is a chorus Of yells from the
redskins as they make the first rush.
Then the silence of the prairie is
broken by the thud, thud, of horses
sect. The very silence is ominous,
and speaks of the grim demonstra-
ion to run the victim down..
Steady, now! The hunters horse
levours mile after mile of the green
prairie, now at the crest of a swell
now almost hidden in a dip-now
or while out Of sight of those who
They gain Il little, the hunt
n plans that they shall. Every yard
gain requires an extra sreed that
axes ten minutes off the race after
high noon. At ten o'clock they have
half a mile. Then the pace
S even, and neither loses nor gains.
There is something terribly grim
n following a man to his death. Not
shout, not a call, not a rifie-shot, /
Chud, thud, thud, over level and {
idge and always to the east. The
un rises higher and higher, and
low and then the hunter glances
Jack with a faint hope that the pur- ! !
nit has been abandoned. No! He G
night as we'll expect a wolf to quit {
he pursuit of a wounded deer Ieav- !
ng its life-blood to stain the grass at '
very rod. 6
1t is high noon. !
The pursuit began over sixty miles y
way, but the breeze bringst, the Z
lunter's ears the same monotOnv OF 9
and he chances back to c
ee that same dark line strung out at r
is heels 1t has became a question =
f endurance. He shuts his teeth y
new, reaches forward to caress his S
Orse--
He is down! A burrOw caught a
,ot as the horse sped onward and
and animal roll to the ground
he race is finished. The poor beast :
'hinnies an apology 1or his fall as
e founders about with a broken
g. and the exuitant shouts of the A
edskins hardly reach the hunters r
ars before he is down alongside of =,
ne crippled horse and bis rifle aimed :,
t the approaching foes. B
1t is another bright, peaceful dav. to
[ere are the same pure air, the same y
|ue sky, the sauhe panorama Of grass o
M flowers and dimly outlined t!
~
A band of hunters are crossing the e1
rairie at a steady gallop, instead OF b,
single man riding for his life. A al
llture rises w with a hoarse scream, al
second, a third, and the odor of de- ~ y,
Y reaches the nostrils of riders and 81
)rses. The band halts, rides to the te
fl, and presently all look down up +.
| a sight which tells its own story. bl
be swollen carcass of q horse, the 81
alped and disfiured bodv of a "