Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1901-12-23

noon, the riders at either end of his
trail taking extra laps until the wound.
ed man should recover
| The Indian raid had well nigh passed,
out of mind when Sandy, riding the
calico on his return trip from Cow
Creek one sunny morning, was sur
prised by crowd of Cheyennes upon
the same long slope down which the
regular rider had been chased.
Far to the northwest of Lapeers the
hills rose steadily in a succession of
ridges, cut by deep ravines and ditch
like washouts. Out of reach of gun
shot from these slashes, except at
single turn, the trail of the pony eX-
press followed the crest of long and
crooked ridge. At the turn mentioned
with a washout close upon the left,
the ridge dropped away toward La
peers. Past this cut, which had been
! the scene of more than one ambush,
the pony riders were wont to race at
full speed.
Sandy, upon his calico, had passed
over the height at a flying pace and
was now we'll within sight of the build
ings at Lapeer's. Suddenly in his
front, on either hand, there came
scrambling up the slopes three or four
squads of Indian riders. They had
timed their break from cover so that
there would be no space for a dash
between their lines.
Sandy's eyes and brain took in the
situation quickly The big war party
of Cheyennes had returned to attack
more express riders. There were a
score in his front, and he knew the
ravines and canyon cuts on either
hand and the washout in his rear
were hiding other squads ready to
cut off his line of flight
He was surrounded, and he deter
mined to go forward and trust, first
to an appearance Of good faith, and
finally to the quick wit and speed of
his calico pony. Thrusting a useless
revolver into boot leg, he unbuckled
his belt, with ammunition case and
holster and let it fall to the ground.
The mail pouch, which Sandy, like
every other express messenger, would
have refused to abandon under any
circumstances whatever, was fortu-
nately nearly empty, and added but
little to his own light weight and that
of his saddle.
Both parties of indians were now
nearly at the top of this ridge, and
some 800 yards in his front. Sandy
rode straight on at jog-trot, holding
UP hand in token of amity or of
surrender as the Cheyennes should
choose to consider
Seeing the express rider approach
them thus amicably, some 20 or more
befeathered fellows halted their po-
MES. Some were armed with guns,
but most had their bow and arrows
and long lances.
"How-how-how" they chorused,
rs Sandy came near.
The Cheyennes were delighted at the
apparent ease with which the man and
his pony had fallen into their grasp.
Three of their head men, each hold
ing out hand and grinning treacher-
ously, rode forward to meet him. This
was forcing his hand sooner than San
dy had expected. His pony was ap-
preaching the Indians apparently with
out fear or suspicion.
Sandy felt that it would never do to
let one of those Cheyennes grasp him
by the hand, and when his animal had
nearly touched noses with the pony
of the foremost, he gave sudden fierce
grunt, gripped his saddle with both
hands, and drove a Spanish rowel deep
into the calico's flank.
He had good need to cling to his
scat, for his ponys first leap nearly
jerked the breath out of his body,
while the calico lodged like fright
ored rabbit among the charging Chey'
ennss. 1t seemed to Sandy that a
dozen riders hurled themselves upon
lin and his pony in the same breath.
The Indians could not shoot in such
melee, but long lances were thrust
at the messenger as his pony lodged
hither and thither among plunging an
imals. Two of these awkward but dan
gerous weapons met in a clash and
broke above his head. A tomahawk hit
his mail bag and ylancing. grazed an
arm. And this harmless blow was the
only stroke Sandy or his pony got in
their zigzag dash through the Indian
lipes.
His race, however, had only just be-
sun, and Sandy knowing speed to be
his only hope. gave the calico free
rein and simply chung to his seat. He
Immediately found himself plungine
down the east scarp of the ridge and
straight toward a deep, precipitous
washout.
A crowd of yelling, shooting riders
launched themselves upon his heels
The Indians were appallingly close
but no man, red or white, can shoo
accurately with his horse going at full
speed, and if his animal be plungine
down a hill, his shots must be aimed
very much at random. In a short
quarter mile dash the angry Cheyenne.
wasted bullets and arrows recklessly
, upon the figure dropping down the
olD in, 'FRONT.' Of tbop,