Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1894-12-17

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She it qcas qUho knelt beside the grace of
the old hunter.
hunter, laid away in such unseemly
haste and with SO little ceremony, and
uttered short prayer in behalf of the
dead, and though some Of The wilder
spirits affected to ridicule, there was
look of pride on their faces as they
turned them upon the girl kneeling be-
fore them.
Who was Joe Blyn? An American of
twenty-four, ranchman, scout, gold
hunter; brave as a lion and tender as a
woman. He had been with Sheridan
and Custer, with Miles and Cook He
had carried dispatches from field to fort,
from post to headquarters. The soldiers
and civilians knew him as Joe; the In
dams called him 1.-The White Wind"
More than once they had found his trail
and pushed him hard, but never had they
overtaken him. And within an hour
from the time Toe Blyn helped Bess Har-
kins to a seat on the wagon he knew that
he loved her, and she realized that she
had fallen in with agreeable company.
Who was Taylor? An Iowa farmer;
man of will and nerve, who thirsted to
acquire wealth speedily. People at
home called him stingy and grasping.
An hour after the old hunters death
the light of avarice shone so brightly in
his eyes that a physiognomist would
have whispered to himself, "There is a
man who would do murder for gold"
With the others we have little to do.
Expeditions such as this are made up of
anybody and everybody. No one asks
where they come from and certificates
of character are not demanded.
When one speaks of the plains of the
great west you must not confound them
with the prairies. "God made the prai-
ries," says an Indian legend, while
satan made the plains. The one is
level, covered with rich grass and car
peted with flowers, and the soil turned
up by the plow is the richest of earth.
The other is rolling, broken ground,
ridged, tumbled, confused. Rock out
crops, the soil is almost flint and nature
can scarcely force a weed or bush to
grow Wolve and serpents are at home
on these desolate stretches of country,
but all other living things avoid them.
There is a lonesomeness and desolation
and a homesickness about them which
has caused men to go mad.
1t was over such q stretch of country
that the wagon train slowly picked its
way. Ridge after ridge, dip after dip,
always the same sterile scenery; always
the same vultures flying in circles so
high up that they looked no larger than
robins.
They speak of boundless prairies. So
are the plains boundless-or seem to be.
You may ride for 200 miles before there
is change of soil or scenery.
Noon comes and brief halt is made.
The men have grown more anxious
within the last hour.
"Signs" are more plentiful.
The feathered heads of Indians have
been seen above the banks of the dry
ravines at short intervals, and it is plain
to all that the train is under espionage.
Your noble red man is coward. He
must fight with the odds in his favor if
he fights at all. Honest warfare is I'M
known to him. In his death song he
will sing of his brave deeds, but he lies
about them.
Men and women argue and contend
that the red man of America has been
cheated, abused and maligned. They
view him from distance. In his native
state he lives by choice like q dog. He
is vicious in every sense. He was born
with desire to torture and kill. His
love is tyranny and abuse-his friend
ship to be avoided. If he believes in
great Manito1, that belief does not pre-
vent him fro n being beast and a devil
combined. lie betrays his own kindred.
He steals from his own tribe. He tor
lures prisoner of his own kind with as
much- relish as he does white man.
Taken as whole, he has not one single
trait or sentiment to prove his right to
cuElber the earth.
Aye! the red devils had been watch
ing that train for the last twenty hours
as a cat watches its victim when released
for the moment. They were aheaa of it
-behind-to the right-the left. At
first two or three-then seven or eight
then ffteen-then thirty. They were
the scouts and spies, and every half