The united opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1881-1970, 1892-02-19

and the noble red man snored on.
Dubs tried on the cartridge belt and
became an Indian, all but the indispens-
able knife, and he concluded to borrow
that from the sleeper, whose fingers had
lost their grip on the buckhorn handle.
"It's bigger'n mommie's butcher knife,
amt it, Gayy" the young savage asked,
as he grasped the handle of the devilish
looking blade. "Now you 'tand over
we're and I'll get hind Wis wock. Ven
you tum along, an III jump out and kill
YOU"
Gay demurred.
"Oh, it's on'y make bleve. Vese kind
o. Iniuns don't kill nobody" and he
stuck contemptuous finger toward the
innocent Coyote. Its on'y PEACHES at
kills, an vey's none yound here, NOM
mic says. TN 'Pache, so you better
look out.
1t was dubious sport for Gay, and
when it came to the killing part she
screamed Justify.
you've wolled him up an 'poiled it
ALL said Dubs in a tone of accusation.
"Now he'll want his knife"
Sure enough, the Coyote That Bites did
shake his brown legs and arms quite Wig
orously, but the last two big swallows
of mescal held him down. So, after
turning over and burying his hatchetlike
face in the sand, he lay quiet again.
When he had thus turned over, was
brought into view the rifle, which had
been concealed by his dirty blanket
Dubs eyed the weapon with covetous
eyes. He could not withstand the temp
tation of feeling it all over, stand it up
on it's butt and trying to shoulder it, but
this last feat he could hardly accom-
plish Just what it was that kept his
fingers off the hammer and trigger, and
prevented sound that would surely
have brought the Coyote to his feet with
yell, am sure cannot tell, but Dubs
played with that fascinating weapon for
nearly an hour, while Gay poured sand
over the cartridges, hiding nearly all of
them from view.
By this time the suns rays were on
the long slant, aud the children were
very hungry. By this time, too, the
Apache was growing restless, for the
mescal had nearly lost it's grip upon him.
A train laundering by, or, much less,
"swift" brushing against his black foot,
a spider dropping on his leg, or even a
big fly buzzing at his ear-any of these
would have set his demon force into play
again.
But the children could not wait for
such demonstrations as these, though
why it did not occur to Dubs that the
Coyotes ear needed tickling with a
grease wood twig, the Lord only knows.
The wind was up, and the wires were
louder than ever. The wee
ones had sported in the black shadows
long enough-had played with the fangs
Of the deadly serpent until they were
tired and their stonachs were empty.
So they set off on trot for home.
Just as they turned the bend and came
in sight of the low roof of the station,
dust devil swept by the rocks where
ay the Coyote-That-Dites. He jumped
20 his feet, grasped his empty sheath,
gave a mad whoop, and stared about in
everish rage. There was his knife, half
covered by the sand, and there was his
fife, far from his side. Here was the
belt, empty, and all about him
n the sand were countless little foot
,rints.
A bewildered look stole over his face, !
ut 1t passed away when his eyes rested
n the empty demijohn. The expression
erocity, and the lust of slaughter lay
cavity upon him. But the cartridges
yhere were they? He saw Gays mound,
f sand, and kicking it, gave grunt OF
eight to see the brazen capsules that
we're scattered right and left by his foot.
He picked them all up, grunting over
ach one. Filling the belt and grasping
is rifle, he started off in the direction ,
4 which the small footprints led. Like I
BLOODHOUND, he chased along the track.
lis eyes scanned the plain at every turn,
nd his breath was hot and strong. But
'hen he turned the big curve and saw
he station, he knew that he was late ,,
90 late-and he gave a grunt of disgust ;
nd was Oft like the wind over u SHE
rail that led toward the sunset.
In the low rooted station house the
lother crooned to tired little Gay, lying ,
D soft and limp in her arms. She
ooked out over the desert, saw the sun
ouching the tips of the solemn giant
acti with purple dots, saw the prickly
ear shrubs holding their grotesque
rms above the great sweep of sand that
an down to the low horizon, and felt I
be inspiration of the scene, as she had q
ften felt it before. For the desert has
beauty that is all its own. She knew
nat other women in the great cities and
4 the cool, green valleys might pity her
4 that desolate spot, but she felt that
he needed not their pity. Dubs came
nd leaned his head against her arm,
'here she sat, and little Gay nestled
own with tired sign. Yes, there was
,uch, she thought, for which to be
thankful.
And in truth there was.-Frank B.
Iillard in Overland Monthly. 6
1t Pays to Dress Well. =