The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1891-07-10
BURIED ALIVE.
A Murderous Trick of the Indians to So
cure White Victims.

A man was riding over the wild
stretch of prairie land-riding gallop-
ing mustang whose fiery nostrils were
| distended with fear or excitement, and
which swerved neither to the right nor
left as it ran. The rider was young
| and active and alert for some danger
that seemed to menace him; and as he
rode his rifle swung at his saddle bow,
and the handle of dirkknife shone at
his belt. He was riding for life-no;
for himself, but for his comrades, who
were engaged in deadly feud with
hostile Indians, with the chance of be-
ing cruelty murdered by excess of num-
berS.
The man riding at full speed was the
avenger of his people. He had vowed
to kill every red man he met on this
enforced journey, and if outnumbered
to sell his own life dearly.
Suddenly his horse swerved from its
long, swinging lope, and had he not
been a good horseman he would have
bitten the dust. AS it was, he swayed
in his saddle, and as the instructive fear
of the brute communicated itself to the
rider, he reached for his pistols, and in
moment was ready for the foe
But no foe was in sight, His eyes
swept the horizon and saw nothing that
looked like human life. A small grove
of scrub oaks was on his right, but he
could see the horizon through the scat
tered trunks A jack-rabbit or a
prairie dog could not have escaped his
vigilant eye.
But it was something nearer than the
trees that his wild Mexican mare was
looking with blood-shot eyes, while she
stopped stock still at the risk of throw
ing her rider over her head, and tremb-
ling as if she scented danger in the air.
The man who bestrode her was no
coward and he had will as untamed as
her own. He struck her over the head
with the butt end of his riding whip
and she reared with him and nearly lost
her balance, but advanced not one inch
beyond the point where she had swerved
and then refused to stir.
Her rider raised his whip again, but
before he could strike, buzzard sailed
slowly over his head darkening the sun
and casting It's baleful shadow on the
ground.
Then he saw ia grave-a long shall
low grave at his horses feet, the sage
brush spread lightly over it. and packed
with sticks and earth, and fattened
down to resemble nothing but the
prairie itself, Had not the keen in
stinct of the Mexican mare warned her
of danger he would never have noticed
! H. 8
with his keen vision.
What he did not see was pair of
treacherous eyes full of hate and re-
venge looking at him from the clods of
earth and the thin covering of sage
brush. The mare saw them and snorted
in terror, the buzzard saw them as it
poised lazily overhead. but the man
who bent over them saw nothing but
grave at his feet
Poor beggar"' he said gently as he
flung himself from his horse: another
victim of the cursed redskins, no doubt,
for this is white mans grave. God
rest your soul, friend, and give me
strength to avenge you"
His head was barred, his eyes lifted to
the pure sky above him. They had
looked their last on the beautiful world
and on his fellow-man.
The buzzard had alighted at little
distance and was waiting-waiting.
Bish. bish! bish
1t was the report Of Winchester
rifle, repeated to make sure of its deadly
aim, and the traveller fell prone on his
face, the bride of his horse dropping
away from his broken arm.
And sitting up in his grave, where he
had been buried alive, the painted
brave, still grasping his smoking rifle,
sent another shot after the galloping
mustang, and then shaking himself
clear of the grave earth sought the
scalping knife at his belt.
And the buzzard that had been wait
ing so long was not deprived of its feast
gained for it by this ruse and stratagem
of war.-Mrs. NJ. l.. Rayne, in Detroit
Free Press.