, 1889-09-05

TOT ne uau no busplCiOn al All that Sdpl.
Duck had shot the stage driver. Indeed,
the boy believed what he said, and would
have maintained it at any hazard. BE
forgot that he had fallen asleep on the
warm fiat rock that cool autumn day.
The mex summer signal fires were
seen one night on the mountain tops.
The men at the stage station hastened to
fasten the old log fort. For this, they
knew, meant war. The Modocs were on
the wal path.
The men made their guns ready and
gave Timber Tim an extra pistol to put
in his belt, so that he might fight with
all his might and help save their lives.
But when they came to look for Capt.
Duck next morning he was gone. He
had Joined the Indians.
Then the men at the stage station were
very much afraid, for they had been
very cruel, not only to the cripple, but
to all the Indians, and they knew that if
they fell into their enemies hands they
had no right to expect any mercy at all.
The next night the Indians set the
woods on fire, and all the land was dark
with smoke. The great pine trees were
falling across the road, and no soldiers
nor anybody could come to help the men
shut up in the little log fort, and sur
rounded by the blazing forests.
The men looked one another in the
face as the air grew dark and dense
from the smoke, and shook their heads
sadly-for they believed their time to
die had come.
About 10 o'clock one morning the In
dians appeared behind the stables and
began to fire on the fort. They took the
horses out, mounted them and then set
fire to the stables.
And now there was little hope, for the
flames would spread to the fort, and then
all must perish. The smoke was so dark
and thick that the men were almost
choked. They could not see to shoot the
Indians, for it vas like night.
what can we dor" cried the men shut
up in the fort, and hiding their eyes
from the smoke. 1.-THE Indians will not
come near enough for us to see them and
fight. If we go out to find them we shall
be shot down from behind the rocks and
trees, and not one of us will live to tell
the tale"
"Let me go outI" said little Timber
Tim. IF l can find Capt. Duck, l will
save you ALL"
They hurried the boy through the
great wooden gate of the fort, as he tied
a white towel on n ramrod and held it
high over his head in the thick smoke.
Then the men bolted the great gate and
left the brave little fellow to do his best
with his white flag.
By and by the boy with the white flag
on the ramrod came pounding at the
gate, and the men gathered around wild
and eager as they opened it.
what luck? What hope?'
"Well, if you will all leave your guns
and go put one at a time down the stage
more, you can go"
Never come back here any more?"
cried n man as he jumped toward the
gate; catch me comm back mere any
more, if l ever get out of thisi" and he
leaped out through that gate like newly
sheared sheep leaping over the bars.
Then another followed and another, all
feeling very much ashamed of the way
they had treated the boy. But somehow
they did not nave the manhood to hold
up their heads and say So.
When the men had gone, glad to &c
and never thinking of looking back OF
ever returning to the Modoc country,
Capt. Duck came %hobbling in. The In
dams helped Tim to put out the fire and
then went away, taking all the stage
horses and guns and blankets with them.
So, when the soldiers came, three days
after, they found only these two in
charge of the fort-little Timber Tim and
Capt. Duck.
The government left some soldiers
there after that, and Timber Tim was
made station master by the stage COM
panyl
He was the youngest station master, /
suppose, hat ever was on the border.
When 1 passed by there, last year, on
a visit to my parents in Oregon, 1 saw
him once more. But he is a man now.
He has long hair, a small black mus
tache, and wears two pistols in his belt;
for the frontier ways prevail in that
country still.
AS for poor Capt. Duck, he is shorter
in the legs than ever, l think. His face
is deeply wrinkled now, and his long
black hair has turned as white as are the
shining SHOWS of mighty Mount Shasta
when seen against the cold, blue sky
above. He never speaks to any one.
But he loves Timber Tim with all his
heart, and never is long away from his
side nor out of his sight if he can help it.
Capt. Duck was sitting in the chimney
corner by the great log fire, smoking his
pipe, when | saw him last. He was
looking straight into the fre-thinking,
thinking. And what was he thinking
about? Maybe he was thinking about
the dead stage driver who had struck
him with a whip. 1t may be SO. 1t may
be so. -Joaquin Miller in st. Nicholas.
A Classic.