Weekly journal-miner., 1909-10-27

the DulleI SITQck when IammeO part lv down. His rifle was of no fur ther use.
 The defense was now mainly witl Uncle Jack and his trusty rifle. Ht dealt the blows effectively but spar in"ly. for the ammunition was fast giving out, and no help from tht outside within sight. Even the shsd dows of the night were lingering thus delaying a possible escape ii attempted in the moonlight.
 The situation was dark and gloomy The Indians were becoming bolder They had crept up and were now ly, ing close in under the cabin walls The firing from within the cabin had ceased. A single shot remained in each revolver.
 The cruelty of the Apache torture was we'll known to the Arizona hunter and trapper, and to escape it the last bullet was ever held in re- serve for himself
 The Indians were now forcing the cabin door. With axe in hand Shep stood ready to resist the entrance and strike down any who should force his way through. They were attempting to get into the cabin through the roof and were pulling off the clap boards. Through the ehinek holes Uncle Jack saw a fliekering flame struggling up the outside wall.
 Crouehed close in under the side wall of the cabin, was the chief and leader of the band. His orders and directions to his men were plainly heard above the din and were re- sponded to by them with savage yells.
 "I VOW, but it looks rather measly for us. You he'd better git that last bullet O. yOu'rn ready" said Jack to Shep.
 "All right, we'll fool lem a little Uncle Jack" replied Shep.
 "Wall I'm rather skeery but I'd swap my last bullet an my ghost too boot fur a sure bead on that yellin' red lyin' at the corner O the house. m make a pass at him any how. Look out fur your scalp, Kid," said Uncle Jack.
 To get the location of the chief and as near to him as possible Jack got down under the bunk and pulled a piece of chinking from between the logs.
 The chiefs quick eye, looking for an opportunity, caught the opening thus made, into which he instantly pushed the muzzle of his rifle. See ing it, Jack sprsng from under the bunk, and stepping to the blind win dow quietly drew the sliding shutter. Looking out he saw the chief crouch ing low with his eyes still upon the opening between the logs, his rifle in position for quick firing, his left arm dropping, exposing his breast and within easy range of revolver shot. Putting his head, right arm and hand grasping the revolver through the window, Jack looked down upon the unsuspecting chief. With deliberate and deadly aim directed for the saw age heart, Uncle Jack made HIS LAST CENTER SHOT.
 With a wild, piercing yell and leaping into the air the chief rolled over in the dust at the feet of his astonished and surprised warriors, who rained a shower of bullets and arrows at Jacks unprotected head as he fell back upon the cabin floor.
 As the last lingering rays of the setting sun were climbing over the highest mountain tops, the whipped savage braves, under the shadow of the approaching night and to the doleful music of the boot owl, hur- riedly bore their fallen chief and otn- CT dead and wounded into the safe retreat of the heavy timber, away from the white man and his invin- eible courage.
 Early the following morning the writer was upon the battle-ground, a rifle shot or more distant from the now western suburbs of Prescott and at the spot known as the Burnt Ranch" for many years the home of MT. and Mrs. Robert Blair.
 The red spotted logs, the pools of crimson stained earth, the bullet scared chinking, the eharred wall and the uncollected arrows lying around were a silent but abundant verity of what Uncle Jack said in uarrating the particulars of the affair, "It wer the dogondest scrap ever fit in.'' LIBER CHARGE PRE-
 FERRFn AGAT1JGT WOMAN