Waterbury evening Democrat., 1906-06-09
WATERBURY EVENING DEMOCRAT, SATURDAY. JUNE 3 1906

pioneer, but with bead and blanket and curious marks on the red skin. His gaze swept past Winslow, fixed in sar- donic interest upon the man slowly de- scending the hill who came steadily on. unconscious of any presence.
 Over the face of the savage crept g diabolical smile as he raised his rife.
 But the trigger was not pulled. There was, instead, flash, report from Winslow's gun, and with yell Of astonishment rage and pain, the In dian dropped to his knees.
 Quickly Winslow stood over him, with gun again leveled, and the old man in silence joined him.
 Had we not better disarm the fel- low while we hold him at our mercy, sir?" Winslow suggested, keeping a watchful gaze on the wounded man.
 Daniel Boone bent over him, and took his gun, tomahawk and knife in grim silence.
 Then rising, he extended his hand to Winslow with smile of gratitude that made young the stern old fea- lures. T thank you, sir. It's quick ness counts at such time"
 Winslow grasped the proffered hand. "I am thankful that happened to be here. But what shall we do with this rascal?"
 They turned to where the Indian groveled in pain to see blood soaking through the heavy leggings, making a red-brown pool on which dead leaf fioated. And in spite of everything, pity stirred both. Together they bound up his wound and helped him to rise.
 To Winslow's astonishment, he spoke in good English gutturals. Why not kill Osage brave? Bad shot?"
 Winslow shook his head. No, a vital is easy to strike at such short range. but I have slight prejudice against murder, which, of course, you cannot understand. I did not need to kill you. This gentleman is as safe as though you lay stark dead"
 Daniel Boone added, impressively: "Yes, you owe your life to this man. Try to remember that, if you have the one virtue of your race. But now that you are saved, we do not know what to do with you" he added, grim ly, surveying the Indian, who, resting on one knee, hugged its wounded fell low.
 To his surprise the savage said, while he rose with diniculty: q go home with you"
 "Then you know where I live at present."
 "I know; many others know; take me with you" This the savage said over and over, each time more urg- ently.
 Boone looked puzzled. My hut is just over the hill," he said to Winslow, fin the thicket at its foot. have little room. little to offer, but all I have is yours. It was never yet said that Daniel Boone forgot service"
 "So this is Col Boone? am hon. ored, indeed, and since am on a strange and anxious errand, gladly accept your offer."
 There suddenly darted through his mind the thought of Owatoga's mes sage, and of the "old man of the woods" But he would waste no time in vain hope and idle speculation. Aloud he said: This Indian is some thing of a nuisance, but"
 He paused. and the other finished the phrase: But he is wounded. help less; we can't leave him to die"
 To the Indian Boone said: Come" and slowly they climbed the hill. Wins low and his new-found friend, with the red man staggering between.
 Little was said, for the journey was toilsome and slow, over briars and roots, under . sun yet hot, though low in the west.
 At the brow of the hill they paused and looked down. The shed is there. but you cannot see it." Boone said. and to the shade of boasting in his tone the Indian retorted: But 1t has been seen! The white man is no match for his red brother-the old mans hut has been seen"
 This was said with such telling em- phasis that the listeners were filled with a vague apprehension. From this man, alone, and unarmed, they had nothing to fear. but might there not be others?
 Each, however. forbore to question. and the Indian relspsed into sullen silence.
 They descended the opposite side of the hill, and still no sign of dwelling. when at last the little place came in sight through a break in the thick grove hedging it about.
 And then Winslow's heart stood still with a tumult of feeling.