The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1891-08-06

II L 4 ANIlL L NV LuL Il.
Never 90 Cumming with an Apachep
You smile at such strange advice? Well,
| might have smiled 1T it once myself.
But We are all creatures of circum-
stance. and | was Il tenderfoot then.
ANYWAY This is how | chummed it
with my little Indian:
| was swinging my Ted-and-bIue
clubs under the pepper-tree ut the
back of the station. This | did be-
cause had theory that exercise was
good for 4 man living on desert.
Tie lazy Mcxicans aad most of the
Americans thcrcabouts had no ruddv
glow on their faces. They were all
sallow. What | wanted was n ruddy
glow.
My rcd-and-blue clubs circled about
very prcttily that day, and the ruddy
glow came; also dripping cpidermls
and a biz desire TO sit down in the
shade of The pcpper-trec and blow to-
baCcO smoke. The tree was small
one. When the station tank ran over,
which was not often. It's roots received
a little moisture. So it grew slowly.
As soon as | dropped my clubs a
squeal of disgust went up from some
where. and, rs turned about / saw
small, brown head dart behind
cactu5-lincd rock.
| said nothing, but leaned back in
my seat pulled my sombrero down
over my face and slammed sleep, with
onc-half closed eye OH the rock and the
big cactus shrubs. No use. You can
not get an Apache out of his hole in
that way.
Next day, with nv beautiful exer-
else theory still bri,tling in my brain
| turned quickly. while in the midst of
my club swinging, and saw the wide
open eyes and gaping mouth of the
cunniu9est little savage | had ever be-
held. He spramg about and fled be-
hind the rock. but not too quickly for
me to read INN Family Flour" in
large red letters on his back. His one
short garment was cotton sack. with
holes cut through it for his mead and
arms.
Come. TadS" | cried, christening
him in that ileetiug second with a
name that stuck 10 him all his life.
''out of thatr' And l jumped behind
the rock, swinging an open hand that
did not grasp the tlour-Sack. rs | had
intended it should.
Where was the wee savage?
Like Il lizard. he bad dartcd from
sight somewhere in that little patch of
rocks and cactus. though there did not
appear TO be cover enough there to
conceal a iack-rabbit.
The spiucs must scratch him. |
thought, US | looked at the prickly
eacsu~; but did not know then how
Apaches put up with such small irri-
tations. Not wanting to give the boy
unnecessary torture, | went back to
my clubs. Throwing my eyes about
again, | caught another tieGting
glimpse of the brown head rs it lodged
behind the rock.
Tads must have been disappointed
next day, for there was no ciub-swing-
inc under the pepper-trcc. The duties
of telegraph agent lay too heavily up
on me and the sun lay too heavily up
on the desert | saw Tads steal away
from his lair about two hours after my
usual exercise time and walk down the
sand-drifiS with detected air. his one
garment ilapPin@ in the hot wind.
A wild nature like his was proof
against such snares aS the toothsome
c0nfcction. the golden orange, or the
uealy peanut. | found that out by
trial in the course of the next week.
But an old jick-knife won him over.
That was something his Apache mind
could grasp. 1t was a greater delight
to him than the red-and-buc clubs.
Sworn friends from that day were
Tads and |. His talk was ridiculous
mixture of English, Spanish and
Apache, and his voice was very throaty.
But ! understood him. lndian-likc he
said little. Il was, therefore, easy to
get along with him. He would sit for
hours on high stool listening to the
"iunk-tuuk-tunk of my souudcr. The
telegraph was IN awful mystery to him
al first. and il SQueiched his imagina-
ton; but he solved the problem at last.
A man away oil in the mountains
spoke with his fingers to NE. and
spoke back TO him. That was his idea
OF it, and it was not Il bad one either.
The humming of The wires overhead
were the voices of people with ponder
Gus fingers, but they were not of this
world.
How the cowboys laughed when
they saw lads and me in the station.
That tenderfoot's queer one, "
they said of me.
The dcspised Apache could not crawl
ints their heartS-not even if he were
/ a 6-year old.
He'll steal everything the tender
foot's got, they pleasantly averred.
| Bat he did not.
When Tads left the station of an
evening. his little brown feet battered
/ straight over the roads to the wickiupS.
/ bali mile away. In time he wore a
i narrow trail over to the hBts.
Pity veil" was what Tads would
grunt TO me every day when he came
shyly into the office, and greeted him
with friendly, ''How-lle-do?n Then
he would shru- his shoulders in way
| that would wrinkle the three Ks into
such bewildering folds that YOU could
not have read them unless YOU had
l-nnt,-t, what fEnl- haf al