The Globe-republican., 1890-03-05

captive was to be surrounded 1T scme
little distance, and permitted to escape
if he could.
But must not the trial be a mere
mockery of hope? The Indians would
take care not to make their circle too
large, and at signal they would close
in upon their victim from all sides at
once. 1t would be excellent fun for
them, with the chances of the game
wholly in their favor.
| John Miller saw all this in an instant,
yet even such q proposition gave him,
for the moment, sense OF relief. he
hoped only that they would free his
arms, and this they soon proceeded to
do, as, of course, they must wish him
to run we'll, in order to heighten the
sport which they anticipated.
Two of the band remained with him;
one to keep guard over the weapons of
which the runners had relieved them
selves, and the other to hold the lariat;
while the remaining fifteen strobe of
to all points of the compass, forming a
circle that grew wider and wider as they
rods in diameter and, of course, three
times as great in circumference. Then
facing about, the tall, dark ring Of
athletes stood ready for the signal to
start.
John had watched the widening of the
circle with feelings impossible to de-
scribe. Every outward step of his
enemies had added something to his
forlorn CLEAN of hope. At every stride
of their moccasined feet he had caught
his breath, praying inwardly that they
would not yet turn.
| Now the lariat was united from his
waist, and the savage at his side, who
appeared to be master of ceremonies,
gave resounding yell. The thrilling
crisis had come.
From the wide circumference of a
hundred and twenty rods the fifteen run
ners came leaping toward the center,
the two Indians who were already there
taking no part except to shout and yell
loudly in their enjoyment of the wild
| scene.
John Miller saw that his only chance
lay in lodging suddenly from one point
to another. A direct run would GER
tainly be headed off, and he felt that
his sole dependence must be upon some
quick and unexpected dart like that of
swallow.
He commenced by making feint to-
ward one side of the ring, then he turned
in the opposite direction, as if confused,
and next he described circle.
| BY this time the Indians had so closed
in upon him that it seemed as if the
whole must come together in heap.
He had made no decided attempt to
break through their scattered line, and
they must have feared that their cap
tive was to furnish them no great sport
after all in the way of running.
Not until the nearest of them were
within thirty feet of him did he make
his grand effort-and that effort was like
a fash of zig-zag lightning.
| First to right, then to left he darted,
and plunging under the arms of two
stalwart Indians, he was in an instant
outside of the circle and speeding away
toward the hills
| Yelling in their intense excitement,
the whole seventeen warriors pursued
him. Surely there could be little dan
ger of his escape; for what was he but
despised STRIPPING of paleface, while
they were the hardy runners of the
Sioux?
Their rifles were left at the spot where
they had been flung down, and all de-
pended upon their feetness of foot.
They simply put their speed against his.
| 1t was we'll for the brave boy that his
limbs were strung with such steel-like
sinews. Looking over his shoulder, he
soon perceived that all of his pursuers
were losing ground. In a few minutes
he had gained the shelter of the hills
and was comparatively safe. The In
dians would, of course, return for their
guns before following him for any great
distance, and the nature of the country
would render it impossible for them to
take his trail.
After few hours, he fell in with his
three friends, who had been searching
| for him, and all then fastened to alarm
the miners. The several camps were at
once abandoned. and their occupants
lost no time in fleeing to safer quarters.
John Miller is now a man in the prime
of life, and occasionally hear from
him by letter, for we have always kept
up correspondence with each other. :.
Sometimes he makes an incidental al
lusion to his extraordinary adventures,
but he is no boaster, either in that di-
rection or any other.
l remember, however. that it made
my flesh creep to hear the story, as
once did. from his own lips, for he told
it much better than can.-George H.
CoOmer, in Golden Days.
GAMES OF YOUTH.