Republican news item. [volume] (Laport, Pa.) 1896-19??, 1911-04-28
Cumming With
An Apache

never go CuuHmlHS Will OIL
Apache You smile at such strange
advice? Well, l might have smiled
at it once myself. But we are all crea-
lures of circumstance, and l was a
tenderfoot then, anyway. This Is
how l chummed it with my little In
dian:
was swinging my red-and-blue
clubs under the pepper-tree at the
back of the railroad station. This I
did because l had a theory that exer-
else was good for man living on
desert. The lazy Mexicans, and most
of the Americans thereabouts, had no
ruddy glow on their faces. They were
all sallow. What l wanted was rud-
dy glow.
My red-and-blue clubs circled about
very prettily that day, and the rudy
glow came; also a dripping epidermis
and big desire to sit down In the
shade Of the pepper-tree and blow
tobacco smoke. The tree was small
one. When the station tank ran over.
which was not often it's roots received
a little moisture. So it grew, slowly.
AS SOOu DIS uloppeu hiy Siuoo q
squeal of disgust went up from some
where, and, as l turned about, saw
a small, brown head dart behind q.
cactus-lined rock.
l said nothing, but leaned back on
my seat. pulled my sombrero down
over my face, and slammed sleep,
with one half-closed eye on the rock
and the big cactus-shrubs. No use.
You can not get an Apache out Of his
hole that way.
Next day, with my beautiful exer-
else theory still bristling in my brain,
l turned quickly, while in the midst Of
my club-swinging, and saw the wide
open eyes and gaping mouth of the
cunningest little savage / had ever
beheld He sprang about and fled be-
hind the rock. but not too quickly for
me to read INK Family Flour" in
large red letters on his back. His
one short garment was a cotton sack,
with holes cut through it for his head
and arms.
Come, Tads," I cried, christening
him in that feeting second with a
name that stuck to him all his life,
"out of that" And l jumped behind
the rock, swinging an open hand that
did not grasp the four-sack. as I had
intended 1t should.
Where was the wee savage?
Like a lizard he had darted from
sight somewhere in that little patch
of rocks and cactus, though there did
not appear to be cover enough there
to conceal a jack-rabbit.
"The spines must scratch him." I
thought, as | looked at the prickly
cactus; but | did not know then how
Apaches put up with small irritations.
Not wanting to give the boy unneces-
sary torture, l went back to my clubs.
Throwing my eyes about again.
caught another fleeting glimpse Of the
brown head as it lodged behind the
rock
Tads must have been disappointed
next day, for there was no club-swing-
ing under the pepper-tree. The duties
of telegraph agent lay too heavily
upon the desert. l saw Tads steal
away from his lair about two hours
after my usual exercise time and walk
down the sanddrifts with detected
air, his one garment tapping in the
hot wind.
A wild nature like his was proof
against such snares as the toothsome
confection, the golden orange, or the
mealy peanut. l found that out by
trial in the course Of the next week.
But an old jack-knife won him over.
That was something his Apache mind
could grasp. 1t was a greater delight
to him than the red-and-blue clubs.
Sworn friends from that day were
Tads and l. His talk was ridiculous
mixture of English, Spanish and
Apache, and his voice was very
throty. But l understood him. Indian
like, he said little. 1t was, therefore,
easy to get along with him. He would
sit for hours on high stool, listening
to the "tunk- -tunk-tunk" of my sound
or. The telegraph was an awful mys.
terry to him at first. and it squelched
his imagination but he solved the
problem at last. A man away of
over the mountains spoke with his
finger to me and / spoke back to him.
That was his idea of it, and it was not
such bad one, either. The hum
midgs Of the wires overhead were the
voices of people with pondrous fin
gers, but they were not Of this world.
How the cowboys laughed when
they saw Tads and me in the station.
"That tenderfoot's queer one,"
they said Of me.
The despised Apache could not
crawl into their hearts-no, not even
II he were a siX-year-old.
He'll steal everything the tender.
foot's got" they pleasantly averred.
But he did not.
When Tads left the station of an
evening, his little brown feet pattered
straight over the roads to the wicki-