The Montgomery advertiser., 1906-11-18

which to poison their arrow tips These alone would form that company that should go with Muk-war-rah to bear the sachem's message to the Texans in far-off San Antone.
 Tn peace, they rode over the moon lit plains and along the silent trails. Just as the down was railing from the cottonwoods, two Camanche warriors entered San Antonio. They announced the arrival of sixty-five Indians who had with them little white girl Matilda Lockhart. Twelve mighty chiefs walked into the council cham bers of the whites. There they stood the embodiment of war and fearless ness.
 From his pouch old Muk-war-rah drew his peace-pipe. It was very old and strangely fashioned. The pipe head was made of red stone brought from the land of the Dakotahs. It had stem whose reed was covered with feathers taken in the eagles flight. He filled the pipe with bark of will lows and put burning coal upon it. Around their own counc1 fires, in the wigwams of their mighty chiefs. the peace of bOundles territories hinged up- on the white and the red man smoking this pipe of peace. Would the Texans smoke it7 So wondering. the chieftain handed 1t to his host, The Texans, and began to speak:
 we have brought the only one we had; the others were stolen by other tribes"
 Girl Disclosed PerfIdy.
 But in an hour of the merest chance, little Matilda Lockhart mad whispered her story to the Texans. She told them that many other prisoners were in the Indian camps far away, and that they brought her TOT high ran som from her people. And so they would bring them one by one.
 No sooner had the chief spoken than an unbearable minute of death-Iike stiffness hung over the council cham Der. Blood was boiling at fever heat. The memories of midnight massacres bore in upon them. The cries of help less children tied fast to Indian pom ies, and carried far away, were ring ing in the Texans ears. The oft-re- peated perfldy of the Comaches was crowding into that moment of sus pense. Who could speak? The chief tain caught the meaning of that in- stant. He cried: How do you like the answer?'~
 A military company had been station ed at there of the council room; another, brought inside now.
 The hour was becoming tragic. All knew 1t. The very air seemed like that which goes before the whirlwind storm. The Texan uItimatum rang out -''Your mighty chiefs are prisoners of war until every white woman and child. held captive among your tribes, is delivered into our hands,"
 Terrific! Sudden! The chiefs sprang forward-a strange glitter in the eye. The twang of the bow-string drove arrows to the feather. Knives glist- ened for a momeut-then dripped with blood. When the few moments despe- rate struggle was over, twelve chiefs and their captains lay dead upon the council floor. And about them. dead and wounded Texans. One solitary war rior took refuge in an old stone house. A burning ball of rags was dropped through the smoke escape on him. He leaped through the door into a hail of lead One human soul-a renegade Mexican--escaped the awful fury of that hour. But he lived to carry the story back to the tribes.
 Carried Back News.
 The Mexican carried the news of the terrible defeat back to the Comanche land. It was at the time when Sun boy, the last of the Kiowa buffalo and war-path chieftains, had joined the Comanches in a great sun dance. He he'd brought with him his fetlsh-the Taime descended from his forebears. It was his own dark green stone image that he hung on the western side of