The Montgomery advertiser., 1905-07-22
SALLY, THE PIONEER GIRL
BY FRANK H. SWEET.

Copyright. 1905, By Daily Story Pub
 Co.,
 "Pappoose heap sick." said harsh. sutteral voice. and Mrs. Tarbox turned iuickly from the fireplace to see a tall, blanketed Indian standing in the cabin doorway. He was looking at her daughter, Polly. who had stopped spinning and was now standing by her wheel with one hand on the dis iaff. Heap sick; no come. most sure lie. Bad-Much mad! Ugh"
 Polly can't go," said Mrs. Tarbox, decidedly. but with her face blanching ls she recognised the Indian. She hardly step. I'm very sorry for you Wassamon."
 Heap sick" the Indian repeated earnestly. Cure squaw no come. must lie. Most sure die. If save. no more fight. All prisoners go free"
 But she can't ,go. tell you, Wassa- non." insisted Mrs Tarbox. She isp't able"
 '''S'pose carryT
 Polly shivered The Indian camp was three miles away. across swamps and ravines, and iI was already grow ing dark. She shook her head.
 Wassamon fingered a moment. then turned away.
 "Pappoose die." ne said drearily. ''only one-some day big chief. like father"
 They listened to his footsteps until they were lost in the soughing of the pine forest, then glanced at each other with the same anxious foreboding.
 Wassamon was an avowed enemy of the whites, although open nostfli- ties had not commenced. He was vindicative and discontented, and his tribe was the most turbulent and mis- ehievous one in the whole valley. If | house was burned or a settler mur- aered, the deed was almost sure to be traced to his tribe. When ques- tioned, he would neither admit nor aeny, but always refused to give up the suspected; and the whites were too few in number to enforce their demands. Several men had mysteri- busly disappeared during the past year. and among them George Benton, young trader and the bethrothed of Sally Tarbox, Polly's sister. No clue to their fate had been left, but 1t was generally admitted that some of Was samon's tribe had murdered them. the more especially as since then he had allowed no white man to visit the camp.
 Mrs. Tarbox and Polly were think ing of the same thing as they lis- tened to the footsteps dying away into
  the refusal to accompany Wassamon hasten the impending outbreak? Two winters before there had been much sickness among the Indians. and Polly had gone to them and effected many cures, and had won for herself the name of the Cure Squaw. But Wassa-. mon himself had held aloof and re- Karded her presence with manifest dis content. This made his present visit seem m ore ominous It was the first time they had ever heard of him ask ing a favor from a paleface. and they knew 1t was only the peril Of his son and heir that could have wrung from him this concession. If the baby died. would it not mean all the horrors of an Indian war for their beautiful val ley?
 q wish my ankle had been strong enough for me to go." said Polly re- gretfully.
 Mrs. Tarbox shook her head
 There's the three miles of dark woods to go through. and bears and painters, and all sorts of wild var hints liable to meet you at any time, and Wassamon worse than any Of them. No, you couldn't go." :~==:
 Over in one corner of the room there had been a steady thud. thud.