The Jersey City news. (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1889-1906, 1889-08-06
BESIEGED BY MODOCS.
An Indian Story for Boys
by Joaquin Miller.

inc 6uOlIeSI possible leDS. Ills legs were
so short that when he walked he wad-
died along like a very fat duck. And
that is why he was called Capt, Duck at
the stage station, which was at the foot
of the great white mountain in the heart
Of the Modoc country, Mount Shasta.
Some said his legs had been shot off in a
battle. And then some said his legs had
been eaten off by a bear. But l do not
very well see how that could be, for his
feet were there, all right. And very big
feet they were, too; wide and big and
fiat like ducks feet. SO / think he must
have been born that way.
Poor Capt, Duck could not hunt very
well, OF so on the war path with the
other Indians, and SO he came to the
stage station to hire out with the few
rough men who kept the old log fort and
took care of the stage horses there.
These men did not like the old Indian,
but as they were a lazy set, they were
glad to have him at the fort to rub down
and water the stage horses when the sun
was hot or there was frost in the air.
But they made all sorts of sport of the
poor Indian. And, indeed, they laughed
at him SO much, and made so much fun
Of his short legs and big feet, that he
often wished he was dead. For he was
very sad and sensitive.
One day, Big Dan the stage driver left
at the station a little boy whose father
and mother had died; for the boy had no
money to pay fare further. The rough,
lazy men there put him to work with the
Indian, and they named him climber
Tim," because he was SO slim and linn
Der. And then they did not know his
name. But l suppose that would have
made no difference, anyway; for, in the
mountains of California, they name folks
just what they please, And if a boy
looks as If his name ought to be climber
Tim" or Climber Shm," or anything of
that sort, why that must be his name
and he can't help it,
The little orphan boy wal sent out
every day with the short legged Indian,
up on the side of the mountain, to herd
the stage horses and keep guard over
them. He had a belt, and a pistol in it,
and a bowie knife in it; and also a gun
to carry on his shoulder.
Pretty o he came to like this very
much and began to grow like a weed
and get fat. He and the Indian were
the best friends in the world. But the
men of the station, somehow, were hard
er and harsher than ever.
But Capt. Duck and the boy did not
mind it SO very much now, for each had
a friend-a friend In the other.
They would buckle on their pistols as
500 as it was daylight and they had had
a little breakfast of crackers and broiled
bear meat or venison, and, each mount
ing a horse and driving the others, they
would 60 up on the mountain side and
there, by a little grove of thick wood,
they would stop and let them Craze all
day. Sometimes Timber Tim would go
to sleep on a warm, fiat rock, while he
was supposed to stand guard and look
away to the right and to the left for In
dams on the war path. But Capt. Duck
would never betray him.
Every time that Big Dan, the stage
driver, came by he would make all sorts
of fun of Capt. Duck, as he hobbled
about and hitched up the four stage
horses, while the driver sat high up in
the box and snapped his long whip.
The Indian did not like Big Dan, and
Big Dan did not like the Indian. Dan
said the Indian was q spy, and told the
men at the stage station that some night
Capt. Duck would set fire to the place
and run away by the light of the blaze.
One hot day, as he sat on the box with
the four lines in his hand ready to start
off at a gallop down the great mountain,
'waddle in on his duck legs" and get
him a drink.
The Indian did not move. Then Dan
struck him with his whip. The men
standing around roared with laughter.
Still the sad faced cripple did not move.
Then Dan struck him another cut across
the face.
The Indians brow grew dark and ter
rible, but he did not stir. Some one else
brought the drink, and then, the driver
swapping his whip, the stage dashed
away down the mountain and left the
Indian standing there, with the boy ten
derby wiping his friends bleeding face
and speaking kind and pitiful words to
him. The two friends went up on the
mountain side by the little pine grove,
and watched the horses as before, and
the Indian never spoke at all of what
had happened.
A month or two went by and every
body forgot about the trouble between
Big Dan and the sad faced savage. Ev-
erybody, did l say2
One day the stage came laundering in
with Big Dan, the driver, leaning for
ward helpless on the box. There had
been a shot fired from the thick wood
back upon tho mountain side. The man
was dying, and the -four reins were slip
ping through his helpless hands.
Who could have fired that shot? When
the stage driver was dead and buried
some of the men took Timber Tim aside
and asked him whether he had been all
the time with Capt. Duck the day the
shot was fired.
"AIl the time, every minute, every
second answered the lad. earnestly.
For he had no suspicion at all that Capt.
Duck had shot the stage driver. Indeed,
the boy believed what he said, and would
have maintained it at any hazard. He