Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1884-03-01
IN THE auLcH.

!,
dips here-rses there-turns to the right
and left in an erratic way, and one who
picks his path through the place must feel
the solemn stiffness chill his very soul.
Look there! Just where the gulch
widens q bit, as if to expand its lungs,
great cinnamon bear is taking his after
noon nap, in front Of his den. Men read
of the ferceness of the grizzly and forget
the terrible hug, the sharp claws and the
awful teeth Of the cinnamon. Look at
that paw covering his nose! The claws
are iron hooks with points like needles;
the paw is u mass of meat and muscle ten
times as hard as the fist Of 3 pugilist, and
more dangerous than the kick Of horse.
The leg, almost as large as the limb Of
strong man in his prime, has muscles
which never tire, and bone which would
stand blow from 4 lcdge-hammer. Bet
Ter open the throttle Of locomotive and
let the mighty machine rush away than
to arouse this sleeping bear to anger
Hark!
The cinnamon opens his eyes. The re-
ports of rifles and the yells of Indians
come to him from down the guich where
the immigrant trail crosses. These are
no new sounds to his ears, but as he drops
his jaw and lifts his head he catches some
thing less familiar. 1t is the frightened
Of ~ Nyh hiph
there is n mingling Of sobs of grief. Above
these cries come the shouts of the red
men, and the bear utters low growl as he
realizes that he may be disturbed.
Patter! Patter Patter!
1t is the footsteps Of some one in flight
some one coming up the gulch. a still
deeper growl, snort of astonishment,
and a boy or years old, bare-headed,
white-faced, and eyes full of terror comes
running for his life. Behind him is an
Indian warrior with tomahawk ready to
strike. In tho brief but terrible struggle
around the wagon this child crept away,
and terror lent him wings to fly.
within striking distance. Pity? Look
into his bronzed face, daubed here and
there with war-paint, and find trace of
pity or mercy. lie will not even make
the child prisoner.
A scalp is a trophy, whether from the
head Of an adult or babe. Curious that
a. -, ,Lo,,I1 Iol,l hin, snob a rocn uybon
fright and horror are pulling at the mus
cles to weaken them; he strains every
nerve and heads straight up .he dark and
rugged gulch as If the lonely shadows
would wrap him in mantle of safety.
A brown body suddenly rises up before
the boy, and there is growl and roar in
his very face. He throws up his arms
with shrek and falls upon the rocky
path, and the brute leaps over him to face
the pursuing warrior.
Strange tableau!
They arc not ten feet apart. The Gin
namon sits up and stretches out one fore
leg and then the other, as il making ready
to box, and his lips part TO reveal teeth al
most as sharp as tho warriors tomahawk.
The Sioux stands with one leg thrown
forward and his hatchet half-raised, and
he looks straight into eyes Of the foe bar
ring his path.
Tomahawk rersus teethi
Hunting knife ursus claws!
The grasp of al athlete versus the hug
of a cinnamon.
The boy rises to his knees and creeps to
the aide of tho gulch opposite tile den, and
with his back to tho rocks becomes spec
tator Of the tableau.
One!
There is long growl from the bear. He
is looking into the eyes Of the Indian, and
he sees defiance written there.
Ttcoi
The warriors clutch tightens over the
handle of his tomahawk. He sees the
wicked claws working and he knows what
is coming.
Three!
A roar-a yell-a rush, and two bodies
weave to and fro in the gloom-wrestle
from side to side, and the cinnamon is the
victor. 1t is well for the boy. Better be
in the power of the bear than the warrior.
The cinnamon bends over his conquered
enemy with growis and shifts, and then
slowly turns and approaches the boy.
The child does not move. He lives and
breathes and sees and hears, but the acme
OF terror has killed all muscular action.
The bear comes close to him-smells Of
his foot-sniffs at his sbreast-breathes into
his face, but lie neither draws back nor
cries out. His great blue eyes ask for pity,
and the cinnamon turns back to the body
of the dead.
Ga,mchi
Those terrible teeth seized an out
stretched arm and crushed the bones as II
they had been pipe-stems.
Grgle,
The severed arteries and mangled veins
pour forth their stores Of hot blood, but il
is not wasted. The cinnamon Is thirsty.
Hero is something better than the cold
spring water of the foothills.
Rend and tear.
The feast has begun. The boy closes
his eyes, but he cannot prevent those hor-
rible sounds from filing his ears.
The sun was not two hours high when
he fled from the wagon. The feast is not