Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-12-20

1 ever saw outside the Black Hills. it layn in the
end whar they play actin. 1t shore looked
like side canon up nigh the head waters of Rapid
Creek-big boulders, an pines and cliffs, an fall
carrvin much water Deadman Creek. An
weather! Say that little oil the-a-ter canon could
put up storm than you in
the Rockies, She thunderin' an lightnin' till
l was dead all in for a waterspout, an
l reckon one must come after left.
Il always thought the-a-ters built to be
funny IN; but that one was jest nachallv full o
hes grief long l got to stay in her.
Nothin doin' but sufferin an abusin an murderin'
meanness.
DLUMB alone, an lost in the canon, reckon, was
pore little gal, bout sixteen years old, leanin
a stump close up to whar l settin, an
sobbin fit to kill herself. She had bout next to
nothin' on an was that ga nted up an lean peared
like she was nigh starved to death An thar she
hung an cried an cried till it 'peared to
O the women folks ought to a gone to her; but
they-all never noticed none, an went right on
gassln with their felers.
''Fin'llv, when she got so weak thought she was
goin to drop, out from behind boulder slips
great big Teller all hair an whskers but his lags;
for he had on nothin' but fur huntin shirt comm
halfway to his knees an in his hand he carries
long blldnque skeping knife
Fore l realized he meant trouble, he makes
jump an grabs the gal by the shoulder an shakes
half takin an half singn to her in some kind OF
talk like Spanish l thought could ketch
some of it. By crpes but that Teller was hot good Q, ID
an plenty something he claimed she'd did!
An when half sobbin an singn she peared to be
ellin him she hadn't, an to go off let her alone,
he shook an abused her more'n ever till it struck
me it was about time for neighborin folks to
hop in an take hand; for it plumb plain she
pore, sweet faced inherent little crtter that
couldn't done harm to hummin bird.
Bout that time, Mr. Hairyman he hops back
step two stands an scowls an grits his teeth at
the gal for minute, an then he raises his knife,
sort O. crouches for jump, an sings out, as
could make it out, Mdudie! Fole! Folle! Say fni!
But before he could light on her with his knife,
l hoped out of my close-pen into the canon,
damned my As in his ear, an observes Mr.. Hairy
man, you re damned liar an it's StOnewall Kip OF
Concho teln you! Little Mandy thar amt full,
an she don't have to say airy damn thing she don't
to! An if you don't pull your freight sudden
for the brush, Ill shore shoot six different kinds of
meanness outen your low down. mis- able murderln
carcass!'
The way his whiskers skipped boulders
maxim his getaway was some active, While the pore
little gal she jest drops off in dead faint an lays
thar till some folks comes down the gulch an car
res her off.
THEN l takes the kink outen the hammer O my
gun, sticks her in my wastband an climbs back
an gifts my hat havin' had more'n enough of dod-
burned OPP ra the-a-ters. An while L was drttln
through the chute toward the main gate O the
big pen, to git out, there tn dod-blamedest
cheerin', yen. and hand clappn' you ever heard
away from stump speakn; but whatever she was
all about Stonewall didn't stop to AK"