Blackfoot news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1891-1902, 1894-05-19

4
bed clothes and retire"
1t was awkward to leave my supper
like this, but there was determination
in his watery eye and half dollar in
his fingers.
Follow me-" said; and led the
way into the tent with the solitary
lamp leaving the tattooed man and
| my wife and daughter outside in the
growing darkness. He was bit
timid following me into the tent,
which smelt strongly of stale sawdust
and orange peel. And no wonder, for
| the figures were all wrapped in sheets
and looked ghostly. The Brighton
Prisoner stood between the Claimant
and Bautus. At my callers request l
withdrew the sheet that covered the
/ Prisoner.
Withdraw awhile, jameson" he
said. II should like to be alone with
my Christine" That was his own
name for her. He slipped the half
dollar into my hand, and left him in
the loneliness of the tent.
Early on the following morning, the
tattooed man, who slept on a folding
cot near Daniels den, ran to my bed
side and awoke me with the startling
information that the show had been
robbed. knew that we could not af-
ford to lose any of the valuables in
our collection, and, without waiting
odress myself, followed the tattooed
man. Sure enough, he was not mis-
| taken, for when my eyes rested on the
spot where the Brighton Prisoner had
stood from day to day, there was moth
ing left but the small wooden pedestal,
and the absence of the figure seemed
to give the place most gruesome APP
pearance.
Beside the pedestal / noticed that
the sawdust had been greatly dis
turbed, and after a moments study l
found the place where someone had
dragged the figure under the canvass.
Like a hungry bloodhound / started
on all fours under the canvass My
hopes were not dismayed, for l could
see the trail clearly-the foot of the
figure had made a sharp cut in the
ground and the footsteps of the thief
were clearly visible in the soft, brown
soil. So l followed the trail until
was almost broken down with fatigue.
Over beds of moss, over banks of wild
flowers, along solitary cattle paths,
under chaparral so thick that could
only force my way through it, down
into damp canons, over hillsides and
along fertile meadows the miscreant
had dragged the leading feature of
my show. l must have followed his
trail for nearly three miles, when l
came to a deep canon. The foot
prints and the cut made by the
foot were palmer than ever, and
as l entered this rsvine noticed at its
bend rejecting all the glories of Gods
early morning, beautiful waterfall.
/ 1t fell from the mountainside, seem
ingly as silent as the breath from a
maiden's lips, and all that told of its
life were the silvery beads of spray
| thrown off in its fall With my eyes
I full opened by the marvellous wonders
\ of the dream of nature, l forgot all
I about wife, child, tattooed man and
I performing lion, and rushed to meet
/ it as child hastens to find the end of
rainbow. Imagine my astonishment
when ! pushed through a thicket of
/ young willows and saw the young man
/ of the night before standing on log
4 that protruded from the bank and
stretched out over the boiling pool at
. the foot of the fall He looked like a
maniac with his disheveled hair and
wild staring eyes. The Brighton
Prisoner was clasped to his heart with
a strong grasp, and he was uttering
some inaudible words, with his right
hand outstretched to heaven. But
inferred that he had come to this wild
spot to perform an incarnation and
supplicate the Almighty on his behalf.
The diaphanous dress of the figure
was trailing in the water. She looked
as fair and queenly as ever, but the
stare in her CLASSY eyes was awful to
behold.
How he managed to stand on that
trembling log was as m uch a part of
the mystery as everything else. The
wavelets caused by the fall were
strong enough to keep it moving very
unsteadily.
What are you doing there?' l cried.
He turned and looked at me. Both
arms embraced the figure with
death-lilSe tightness.
NO, no, you shall not take her. Go
back! Go back" How wildly he
looked at me. Then kissing the cold
wax face he said: MY Christine,
speak. say that you love mel"
could stand no more Of this, for I
realized the peril of the figure. 1
rushed for the log, intending to re-
cover the figure and return with it to
the wagon, but in my haste my foot
Slipped and pushed the log with its
lovers into the stream.
Horror of horrors! I saw it caught
by the waves Of the boiling pool and
glide slowly toward the downpouring
torrent. l could not swim, and was
utterly powerless. Two minutes
more and all would be over.