Kansas City journal. [volume] (Kansas City, Mo.) 1897-1928, 1898-11-27
Spanish miners had cut into a subterranean
Old Blue Arrow.

Old Blue Arrow.
Six miles from its headwaters which have
their rise among the mountains of Newton
county. in Arkansas. the Buffalo river
flows straight against a rocky spur which
divides the limpid stream and sends the
waters tumbling away down narrow val
miles the two streams flow in separate
beds. and then gradually they approach a
Common point where again the waters
com!ningle and race away in turbulent pre-
cipitancy to join the broad flood OF he
White. making of the mountain spur an
midway between the dividing and reunit-
ing of the waters the little village of Jasp-
er. the seat of Newton county. nestles
in the valley on the south side of the
mountain spur. 1t was here that many
years ago a renowned Indian hunter. Old
lied the red men who inhabited that region.
RMS old hunter. so ruE.s the legend, left
his home and tribe in Kentucky and. he
cause he was disappointed in love. wan
dered away into the wilds of the Ozarks 10
live alone and TO make wal against all
living creatures, fish. fowl, beast and man.
Building his shack of bark among the
rocks of the island spur he terrorized The
surrounding, Indians by his tremendous
around the name OF Old Blue arrow was Il
nightmare to the aborigines. He got his
title from a peculiar arrow, which he alone
used and knew how to make. 1t was of 4
steel blue flint. hard as a Damascus blade
and keen as a razor.
The edges We're smoothly beveled. and
of appearance that al! other Indian ar
rowheads have. The workmanship was
perfect, and with such a barb Old Blue
Arrow could easily send his shaft clean
through the body of an Indian or a deer
and bury it to tie feathers in a buffalo
bull. The arrowheads may be found TO
where else have they ever been found. Old
Blue Arrows terrible reputation was the
cause of his ultimate undoing, for one night
more than 800 Indians surrounded him as
he slept ana made a porcupine of his gi-
gantic body with their arrows. But his
secret of making arrowheads died with
the red man.
Ashes of n Lost Race.
The weird and wonderful legend which
heart of the Ozark region might inspire an
imaginary writer with thoughts as strange
and romantic as those which Rider HaS-
gard writes down in his pages. Stories
that have TO DO with lost races. prehis-
toric peoples and the strange creatures of
humankind that live or have lived in the
earth are always fraught with a peculiar
interest and an irresistible charm that is
found in no other lore. In Stone county,
Ark. eighty-five miles from a railroad,
there is a high ridge, a sort of backbone
of the Sherman range of the Ozark mouu-
tains, running from Big Flat, in Baxter
county. to SYCAMORE, . boat landing on
Whlte river.
For twenty miles a mountain road runs
along the crest of this ridge, south and
east, through a magnificent forest of state
y white oak, hickory and pine. until!
descends to the water by a series of long.
curves. For a mile or more on
either side of this road before the level
fiat on the crest is broken by hundreds of
little canyons and gulches running north
ard south. the grass grows shoulder high
and deer and timber wolves: turkey and
prInt and -,.:-~. -
solitude and enjoy immunity from the pot
hunters who frequent the domains nearer
to civilization and railroads. About midi
way between Big Flat and SYCAMORE. an
Unusually large canyon makes off toward
the north, sloping gently at its mead from
the level plateau to the great ridge. and
the gulch pushes through IA tansle
OF hazel. giant ~grapevines and the usual
underground common to the mountains Of
Northwest Arkansas. 1t is on the east side
of the lonely gulch, about $50 yards below
the head. that the low. narrow opening of
the mysterious ash cave gapes in forbid
are In the very heart of the mountains
and your only companion is nature-conl-
pany enough sometimes. too much at 9TH
ers, and again none at all. But the legend:
Fancy il you can a vast wilderness. our
own broad country centuries before Column
bus. A race of sturdy people dwen here.
great mounds. Their pride is their health
and strength, and in all the wide domain
there are fewer senile. sick. halt and blind
than might now be found in a small city. |
Once in every five years these unfortli-
mates set out upon a journey. they know
to what bourne. Guided by their holy |
men, the melancholy procession winds over |
hi and down dale. across rivers and
through gloomy and almost impenetrabie |
forests, until some evening when the sun |
pauses on the western horizon for a last
iook. they arrive at the place of doom. 1t
is the broad plateau, and hard by is tho
cave where burn the devouring fires eter- |
nally tended by the sacrificial priesthood. |
One by one little parties are led away, |
slowly the army of the doomed disappears.
And now. in these latter days. as the in
truder pushes his way into the cave. he
sinks to his knees in great pillows Of the |
ashes of this departed race. Such is the |
legend which the Indians have handed
to the present day. and who shall
say that it is entirely fancifuI?
S. Z. SNYDER.