The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1883-09-06
ssDIED GAME"

It is morning on the prairie.
To the east is the rosy sunrise and the
dim, PARKWAY outline of q mountain
range; to the north n shadowy line
which may mean hills or timber; to the
west and south a broad, level ocean of
green grass which has no limit. 1t
seems as level as a floor to the eye, but
| it is cut up with dry ravines and bitches.
and there are sharp ridges and dips and
sunken spots.
/ The sun is warm, the air still, and
/ every blade of grass is loaded with dia-
mond dewdrops. There is no bird TO
/ chirp, and no crickets to cal, out but there
! is no feeling of loneliness. 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 to that which man feels when he
sees the ocean dashed to mighty fury.
/ The one is an exhibition of Divine anger
the other of Divine peace.
See! A rough clad, full-bearded man,
of iron muscle and fearless courage,
suddenly rises from hollow, losses
aside his blanket, and slowly turns his
head in every direction to scan the
| green grass sea. At the same moment
his horse energies from a dip which has
heretofore sheltered him, and, with a
whinny of recognition and pleasure, adj
vances straight upon his master.
Alone! Man and horse are the only
| living creatures 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 a bit nearer.
Both are awed by the broad expanse.
The mighty grandeur of Nature steals
rs
| pass like an electric current to the horse.
He raises his head. His nOstrils ex-
| pand. His eyes grow clearer and larger.
| Surely he must see the pictures spread
out before him there, and something of
its beauty must be felt.
See that! The mans hand goes up
to shade his eyes. He is looking
straight to the west. He stands like a
rock, and his eyes are keen as an
eagles. The horse is looking in the
same direction, ears pricked forward,
lips quivering and every muscle in his
legs tightened up as if for a race. What
is it? A fiutter on the surface of the
prairie caught the mans eye for an in
slant and then disappeared. 1t vas
two miles away. 1t was only trife;
but on that triie depends his life. A
shipwrecked sailor catches his breath
at Sight of every white cloud creeping
above the water line. The hunter on
the prairie feels his heart pound at the
flutter of a bird S wing-the bark of q
coyote-the boot of an owl-at sight of
a footprint or a broken bush. These
may mean nothing, or they may mean
an ambush-a race for life-capture and
torture.
"Yi! vi! vi!
The ievel-seeming prairie is broken
4, 4
than mans height. This curves and
bends and leads on for miles. Scramb-
ling out of its depths, and each one
sounding his war-whoop as he mounts
his pony, are a score of Indians.
For two DAYS the hunter had swept
the horizon in vain. He was alone on
the great ocean. Night had been tran
quill and full of sound sleep. Here,
now, rising like specters from the
earth before him, is a band Of blood
thirsty demons raving for his life The
sight stuns him for a few seconds.
Then, with a growl of chagrin and def
ance. he filings the saddle upon his horse,
picks up his rifle, and while yet the In
dams are n mile and 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 of train Of cars. There
is q chorus of wells from the redskins as
they make the first rush. Then the ST
lence of the prairie is broken only by
the thud! thud! of horses feet. The
very silence is OminOus, and speaks of
grim determination to run the victim
down.
Steady, now! The hunters horse de-
yours mile after mile of the green prai-
! RE, now at the crest of n swell-nOw
almost hidden in a dip-now for an in
slant out of sight of those who follow.
They gain a little. The hunter plans
that they shall. Every yard they gain
requires an extra speed that will take
ten minutes off the race after high noon.
At ten o'clock they have gained half a
mile Then the pace is even, and
neither loses nor gains.
There IS something terribly grim in
following a man to his death. Not a
shout-not a call-not a rifle-shot.
Thud! thud! thdd! over level and ridge
and always to the east. The sun mounts
higher and higher, and now and then
the hunter chances back with s faint
hope that the pursuit has been aban-
doned. MOI He might as well expect
a wolf to quit the pursuit of a wounded
deer leaving its lite-blood to stain the
grass at every rod.
1t is high noon.
The pursuit began over sixty miles
away, but the breeze brings TO the hun
ter's ears that same monOtonv of hoof-
beats, and he glances back to see that
same dark line strung out at his heels.
1t has become n question of endurance.
If he can tire them out he will escape.