The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1891-04-25

Win SINKING heart. Long Peter lay
on the floor of the hut, white and gasp
ing; a spear had entered one of the loop
holes and pinned him through the thigh
In response to my groan of utter dis
may the good fellow struggled into
sitting posture.
''Never mind me, Jem," he said;
eight it out to the last Take my gun,
there is one charge in it yet; but first
drag me into that corner"
Iobeyed in silence, handed him a pan
nikin of cold tea, and then took my
place by Mr.. Ashby's side. "Look out"
he whispered. 81 mean to fire at their
ringleader-that man with the blazing
log in his hand-I fear he has already
fired the roof. hear it cracking; but
it scarcely matters now, the end Is not
far off. We are doomed"
AS he spoke these despairing words
Mr.. Ashby fired, his bullet bringing
down the man aimed at, who, with a
wild screech, fell to the ground. There
was a pause of CONSERVATION after this,
and hurried talk among the savages
outside; then, with wild yells, the whole
force of the besiegers rushed ON our little
garrison. A moments surging round
the door, then it gave way with crash,
Mr.. Ashby's gun swinging on the crowd
of savages with terrific force, telling two
of them like oxen. l can scarcely de-
scribe what followed. There was wild
struggle with our guns and our fists;
then two black fellows forced me to the
ground; one was shortening his grasp of
his spear to drive it through my body,
when he suddenly fell on the top of me
dead, felled by the butt end of Mr.. Ash
by's gun. But knew little more. Dimly
seemed to hear loud hurrah from out
side, followed by the cracking of rifles;
then every sound died away into utter
silence. IL
"Well, 1 declare, you have had bit
of a scrimmage, and here's poor Jem
about done forl" It was the voice Of
Jerry, who was dragging away the dead
body of my assailant from off my chest.
'No, am not Dead" said, feebly
enough, mot even wounded, though
half choked with blood that is not my
own. Where is the master? and, oh, go
and look after Long Peter! He is terribly
hurt, know"
"The other chaps are attending to
him." said Jerry, "and as for the master
he says he is all right; he won't own to
single scratch, He is a game one, he
is. Well have You all carried to the
Head Station afore breakfast time, see
if we don't. But you should have seen
that dog of Peters. Why, his feet was
all skinned and raw, and he had an ugly
spear wound in the shoulder, so that the
letter was covered with blood. We
could scarcely make it out, but we
guessed quick enough that there was
something amiss, and came away at
once. We were just in time, Jem, my
boy"
"Didn't tell ye as Bouncer would do
it?" cried Long Peter, in rather a weak
and quavering voice. "Poor old chap"
he added tenderly, as the faithful brute
limped across the hut at the sound of
the shepherds voice and crept close to
his side. "You and me will never part,
Bouncer, never, as long as we live. ("
And they never did part till seven years
later, when, in extreme old age, Bouncer
died and was buried in grave dug for
him by Long Peter himself. sab"
he said, when the ceremony was over,
"why do them faithful brutes die so
soon? I'll never see his like again; he
was as wise as any Christian, and deal
more faithful than many.