The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1905-06-21

Wen take him into camp with us.
Fust rate evidence he is"
"You heap dogr gritted Pretty.
Hate-the bitter malevolence OF a
race refined in cruelty-glared out Of
the Indians eyes.
"Yepw and the six-shooter waved
rhythmically up and down the line Of
Pretty's body. "Yepw repeated Damer.
"Me heap dog. And you'll be dog meat
in just a holy second if you don't move
-Quickw
The command snapped outward from
his teeth like the crack of a Winches-
ter. In its harsh abruptness was all
the dominance of the men who had
conquered his people years ago. The
Indian stopped over and placed his
hands around Big Heads body. With
a yell he leaped backward, shrieking to
the soldier:
"Cocheo, pronto! Knife, knife,
quickw
A cold glance of inquiry started from
Damer's eyes as he looked, first at the
body of the dead man, and then at
Prctty's face.
The Indians hand was frantlcally
clutching at his knife sheath. The
soldier had not forgotten the knife
when he took Pretty's rife from him.
The shining blade of the Indian rested
alongside his own.
mo" answered Damer. The thought
of treachery was chill within him.
You stop this monkey business and
drag Big Head out here to the trail"
"LOokw
The word fairly rasped from the In
dams throat. Holding up both hands,
palms outward, Pretty supplicated the
soldier.
lie saw-on the palm of the left hand
two pin prlcks, about an inch apart.
Even while he stared, two tiny drops
Of blood started. A rattlesnake bite!
AS Damer hesitated, The Indian COM
menced, with an inhuman snarl, to bite
chunks of flesh from the wound. A
few seconds, and the poison would be
swiftly traversing its way to the In
dams heart.
"Herew
Damer whipped out his knife and
spun ii, hilt first, to Pretty.
A swift snatch at the blade, a cir
cular sweep of the steel, the swishing
sound of parting flesh, and half Of
Pretty's palm lay on the burning sand.
Pity filed the soldiers heart as he
stared, Ox-eyed and dumb, ,at the
frlghtful, bleeding hand, the glare of
horror in the Indians eyes, and the
dead body at their feet.
A rustling Of dry scales over drier
twigs acted as shock. Damer was
alert once more; his pistol arm brought
the Colts to the front, as he saw four
feet Of sinuous, twisting body, the
gyrating tail and cold, emotionless eyes
of death incarnate, glide out from un-
der the dead mans body, and coil as
though to strike again. He blew off
its head, and turned to the Indian.
Already hideous gray nothing was
appearing through the bronzed skin.
The trailer's eyes were twitching, while
great sobs burst from his lips as he
struggled for breath. Too late-no
chance for life. AS the deadly poison
swiftly sought his heart and the cold
damp Of fear burst out on his brow,
more swiftly did the thought come to
Pretty of revenge.
Damer had partly turned away, sick
of the dreadful sight, when, with a
noiseless spring Pretty was upon him.
They tumbled to the ground. Damer's
gun had been knocked from his hand.
As the Indian struck, again and again,
with his knife, the soldier knew he
was struggling for life, the Indian for
a double death. With the trained mus-
cles of clean frontier life, Damer
evaded the knife thrusts, twice, thrice;
then he felt the cold steel crate against
his ribs-a glancing blow. But the
next one! There must be no next.
With frantic effort he managed to
seize the hand which held the knife,
and sought for Pretty's throat. He
knew that his only hope for life lay
in the quickness of the poison's work.
Could he hold out against the last
frenzy Of death?
Over the dead body of Big Head they
rolled, over the bloody headless body
Of the rattlesnake. Pretty was beat
ing him in the face with the mangled
hand.
Covered with blood and slowly weak
ening from his wound, the tensity of
the soldiers grasp relaxed. With a
sudden jerk, Pretty tore his arm free
and drew back for the full stroke. AS
he glared in Damer's face, the soldier
closed his eyes.
There was a sudden gasp, a mighty
upheaval of the body, and Damer was
tossed aside.
Pretty was dead. AS Damer arose
and looked down at the tragedy, far
off, in the blue sky, the buzzards could
be seen coming to their feast-Outing.
Force of Habit.
A AL L.