Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1888-11-15
FAIR PAPITA'S LEAP.
Pursued by a Bear She Takes G
Last Chance for Life.
Bruin is Killed by a Mountain Lion, the
Lion is Shot by Gallant Hunter,
and Papita Bobs Up serenely
From Below.

The Silver City Mont.) correspond
ent of the Cincinnati Enquirer sends
the following remarkable tale:
These mountains are as rich in ad
ventures as they are in quartz-rock ant
big powders, he writes. Once in awhile
one of the first is heard of beyond it:
immediate participants, just as the
quartz now and then shows up a silver
vein to the. persistentinquisitive miner
Some of these have been duly chroni
cled, but not the tenth part of those
which have happened. even within
easy reportorial reach, have been
heard of by me. A few days ago Hank
Slicer, an old hunter. who fought the
Indians long before he came up into
the mountains ten years ago, dropped
into our little mining camp. casually,
as it were. The old man is garrulous,
after he has taken On about a half q
dozen three-fnger doses of Bourbon.
and he told half dozen beautifully
tinted stories of life in the mountains.
That is, the stories were rose-colOred
"a man with strong imagination and a
slight prejudice against Hank might
say they were ''lurid." All of them
were highly entertaining. Fortunately
he had collateral evidence of the truth
of some of them, though no one ever
disputed any statement by Hank Slicer
unless Hank was either asleep or out
of sight and tolerably certain not to re-
turn for some time. One of his stories
1 shall give. It's pity it can not be
given verbatim and with all the orna-
ments of adjective and expletive, gest-
ure and facial contortion with which
it was duly embellished by the old
man. But to do so would require a
special font of type with several new
characters. Stripped of all DISCUSSES
the story is about as follows:
Slicer has spent the summer camped
on a spur of the mountains, thirty or
forty miles from here, known as Big
Tree Mountain. This spur is wide
one, and has many lovely little valleys
and charming hooks. Its chief charm
in old Hanks eyes, however, was the
fact that its valleys and glens are the
chosen feeding ground of the deer, and
that its many pellucid streams are
chock-full of the finest trout. With
Hank was an old Indian, a half-breed,
who, of course, took along his squaw
and her membranes, a rather bright,
copper-colored girl of fourteen or fif-
teen, three or four smaller fry, their
number. ages and sex being quite i'm,
material Running Antelope" was
his tribal name, though Hank always
called him ''Half-breed jim" when re-
ferring to him in mixed society OF
which the latter was not part. The
two had known each other and camped
together off and on for score or more
of wears. This summer they must have
mad particularly royal and hilariou;
time. with the squaw to do their cook
ing. the kids to do the chores, veniSor
steaks running free and thick in theil
outdoor pantry, and trout fairly crowd
ing around every hook that was thrown
into the streams. Such a state o.
affairs means beatitude itself to al
indian family and an old Rocky Noun
ain hunter. and that it was enjoyed
goes without saying.
One day, just about the time of oul
warmest weather here, when the black
berries In the scattered brier patche:
were laxuFiantly ripe. old Hank ha6
lazily strolled out with his gun ant
dog, ready Cor any thing which NIGH
cross his path. Nothing showed up
howeYer-the day was sn exceedingly
sultry one in August-aBd the old mar
had turned his face toward camp. and
was within two miles Of it, when ht
came out upon little opening on &
southern exposure that was fairly vel
set IN blackberry bushes, nov bending
under loads Of ripe berries. They were
tempting, and the old fellow IeisureI,
browsed along the edge of the patel
for some distance. picking only ths
biggest aud ripest berries as be went
His dog had finally made lazy eXcur
sion a little further down the hill 4
the right, nosing about in a perfunctor.
way and keeping half an eye on hiI
master as he slowly moved along.
The day was as calm as Sabbath il
Eden; the heat was just enough to b
relaxing; the air was soft and resinou
and slumber-proyoking. The old MAJ
moved slower and more and more Eel
an inclination to lie down and take
nap. He cast glance ahead and say
that at the further side OF the brie
patch was yawning canyon, perbap
five nun6FSd feet deep, that scanned th
mountain side for a long distance. o
course he must retrace his steps. II
turned TO do so. But the invitation 9
nature to take siests was almost IRE
sistibIe. He had just picked out mic