Connecticut western news., 1883-07-25
VOL. XIII.

| snOutS or pursuit ana the louder Inuml of the hoof-beats he will straighten away and show the pursuers gait which noth ing but whirl wind can equal.
 Look It is only quarter of mils now to the turn in the valley. The lone horse had suddenly stopped to sniff the air. His ears are pointed straight ahead his eyes grow larger and take on { frightened look and he half wheels as i he would gallop back to those who have seemingly pursued. Five, eight, ter seconds, and with snort of alarm he breaks into terrific run, takes the ex treme left of the valley, and goes tearing out of sight as if followed by lions.
 < Halt r es,sssas.fsss ,sssas..fsss
 The grim sergeant sees 'ssigns" in tho actions of the horse. Every trooper if looking ahead and to the right. Ths green valley runs into the fringe, tho the fringe into dense thicket, the thicke into rock and pine and mountain slope No eyeAcan penetrate that fringe. The Indians may be in ambush there, or the horse may have scented wolf or grizzly.
 Forward P
 No man knows what danger turks ir the fringe, but the order was to scout beyond the bend. To disobey is igno- miny and disgrace to ride forward is- wait ]! There is no air stirring in the val. ley. Every limb and bough is as still as if made of iron. There is silence which weighs like heavy burden, and the harsh note of hawk or buzzard would be 8 relief.
 Here is the bend. The valley con- tinues as before-no wider-no narrower level and unbroken. The wild horse was out of sight long ago, and the six troopers see nothing but the grass as their eyes sweep the valley from side to side
 "Turn the bend and ride down the valley for mile or so and keep youl eyes open to discover any pass leading out.
 ssHalt p
 It is. more than a mile beyond the bend. No pass has been discovered. No sign of of trail have been picked up. The sergeant has raised himself up for long and careful scrutiny, when an exclamation causes him to turn his face up the valley. Out from the fringe ride the demons who have been lurking to drink blood. Five-ten-twenty-f fifty the line has no end. It stretches clear across the valley before word has been spoken. Then it faces to the right and 200 Indians in war paint face the grim old sergeant and his five troopers.
 "Into ine-right dress
 It is the sergeant who whispers the order. Six to 200; but he will face the danger. To retreat down the valley is to be overtaken one by one and shot from the saddle or reserved from torture. Down the valley there is no hope; up the valley is the camp and rescue. The tive lines face eace other for moment with out a movement.
 "Now, me, one volley-sling carbines draw sabers and charge p
 A sheet of fame-a roar-a cloud of smoke, and the six horses spring for ward. Then there is a general yell, 8 rush by every horse and rider, and a whirlpool begins to circle. Sabers fash and clang-arrows whistle-revolvers pop-voices shout and scream, and then the whirlpool ceases. It is not three minutes since the first carbine was fired, but the tragedy has ended Every trooper is down and scalped, half a dozen redskins are dead or dying, a dozen horses are struggling or stagger- ing, and turning the bend at mad gal lop is the sergeant's riderless horse. He carries an arrow in his shoulder, and there is blood on the saddle. In five minutes he will be in camp, and the notes of the bugle will prove that the lost trail has been found--Det,oI Free Press.