The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1883-09-27
The Editors Indian Fight.

"Whoopl" sang out the boy, as he
came bounding into the room, with his
sun-kissed golden locks msheyeled and
splash of mud on his nose. "Did you
see the Sioux Indians in the circus pa
rade ?"
Circus parade!' sneered the ex-
change editor. do You suppose that a
Sioux brave would allow himself to be
pulled around the country on Dutch
metal band wagon for the sake of a few
dollers and an occasional drink of
whisky? Those fellows you saw weren't
Indians"
We'll, 1 don't know" said the boy
thoughtfully, the varying expressions of
doubt, diffidence aud IA desire to drop a
cockroach down the exchange editors
neck chasing each other fitfully over his
mosaic features. "rhey were the color
of half-burned brick, and they had
hens feathers sticking in their ears,
and they smelt like cow-house. If
they weren't Indians they were very
good imitation, seems To me-"
"Ah!" said the exchange editor, a far
away look in his eyes aud his right hand
unconsciously clutching the boy by one
of his shell-like ears. You should see
the noble red man as / have seen him
when L ran the Weekly ScdlLer in
Wyoming Territory. There was no
circus parade about him there. His
splendid physical proportions, his
graceful ways of stealing whisky and
horses, and above all, the unerring GER
tainty with which he would get drunk
every time he showed up at the agency
for supplies, were enough To make IA
man wish he was one of the tribe him
SELF And the exchange editor shook
his head until he loosened his store
teeth. and knocked all the stiffening out
of his stick-up collar.
Did you ever see the Indians fight y
loose, and looked admiringly at the
diamond in the bosom of the editors
dirty shirt.
Did L? Well, should say so. Look
at this deep scar on my head.
"Do you mean tina crack on the top,
where all the dust has settleI?" in
CURED the lad, innocently.
Never mind about the dust. That
scar is memento of a combat | had
with Perspiring Horseshoe, a Sioux
chief, who wouldn't pay up his subscrip-
! tion for the SCdipeT. We fought for
! three hours, and L wore my bowie knife
down nearly To the handle by hacking
! him in different parts of the body. Just
as | gave the last stab that finished him
he drove his tomahawk into my skull so
that the two halves fell apart like leaves
of photograph album"
/ Il la y
"Oh, yes; you couldn't easily kill
me-" assented the exchange editor, with
a condescending shipper.
NO; l heard that the policeman who
banged you over the head the night you
went to the Press Club banquetsw as
going to make you pay Tor the splnters
you knocked off his club. He said that
on had head like leather-co, cred
trunk, and If he hadn't known YOU all
your life, and tia you were never out
side of Pittsburgh, he'd have taken you
for mississippi deck hand.
You young scoundrel!" howled the
exchange editor, suffering around for
something to thu ow at the evaporating
lad.
"Good-by," chirped the boy through
the chink of the door. Il shouldn't
wonder if some of the splinters from
the hickory club was TO take root in
that crack in your head There is
plenty of real estate there, and if u
tree was to spring up good and strong
you wouldn't have to use any more hair
restorer."
The exchange editor was SO sardon-
ically mad that his weird "Ha, ha!"
pursued the boy like an avenging spirit
all the way down stairs to the front
door and induced him to get into fight
with bootblack before he was five
minutes older. -PiuSburgh Sunday
TrdUeler.