The Blackfoot optimist. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1907-1918, 1914-09-17

I
proved his own undoing. Half stunned
as I was by the blow, heard him
spring to his feet, the dull crash of his
head as he struck The hardwood slab
of the low roof, and then the thud of
body on the tunnel floor. In his
haste, his desperation, his strange
fright, he had forgotten where he was,
and attempted to spring erect. My
head reeled, the blood from this new
cut trickling down my cheek. The ne
gro lay motionless in the darkness; l
could not even distinguish his breath
ing, although hestiated, listening in.
tently, half fearing some trick
What had frightened the fellow so?
What had brought that look of insane
terror into his eyes? 1t was as if he
stared at ghost, the very sight of
which had crazed him. mastered my
own nerves, and crert forward along
the passage, feeling blindly in advance
with one outstretched hand, until it
came in contact with the mans figure.
He lay full length on the tunnel floor,
and l had to find my way over him to
reach his head. 1t was difficult to
touch him, to place my fingers against
his flesh. The memory of those snarl-
ing, wolfish lips, and that yellow skin,
caused me to shrink from direct con-
tact. Yet l must assure myself.
could not leave the man lying there,
possibly to recover consciousness and
do injury. OF one thing was assured
this French negro could be no friend.
With clinched teeth, touched the
coarse hair with my fingers; then the
| forehead. The flesh retained some
warmth; yet the feeling was not nat
ural-it seemed lifeless. For the in
slant this appeared impossible Why,
he did it himself; he crashed his own
skull against the slab Yet could not
make the affair seem real, or probable.
And a negro! l had seen few OF the
race, but had always been told they
were of thick skull; but if this man
was actually dead, his head must have
been smashed like an egg-shell. And
it was-I found the cash a moment
later, the jagged edge of bone. The
fellow was dead, stone dead; there
was no heat to his heart, no throb to
his pulse. Still dazed by the discov.
cry, ran my fingers along the roof
overhead, hoping to find something
there which would account for the
mystery. No fiat surface could ever
have jabbed that wound. All! l felt
1.-THE sharp point of stake protrud
ing between the logs. The poor fellow
had struck that with sufficient force to
penetrate the brain.
conquered my abhorrence, and
searched him, finding tobacco. knife
an ugly weapon-flint and steel, 8
few coins, and some powder and rife
balls. There were NO pistol bullets
and the thought occurred to me tina,
the smaller weapon probably did not
belong to him; he had appropriated il
elsewhere. l crept about, and across
the body, searching for it in vain, bu1
l found the rife, and took time to test
its flint, and load it.
l was still engaged at this task
blindly feeling about in the dark 70!
everything needed, and always con
scious of that dead body beside me
when l suddenly detected smoke-no1
the puff OF powder which still c,ung tt
the passage, but the acrid, pungen
odor of burning wood. Even as | be
gan to breathe the fumes they in
creased in intensity; the narrow tun
mel filling rapidly with the smoke
waves, and setting me to coughing
realized at once what had happened
Mademoiselle's word of warning com
ing back to mind-they were burnin;
the cabin, and through some erifc'
the smoke was being swept down int,
this underground passage. If there
were no outlet, no way by which i
could escape again to the open air,
must die there in that black hole
choked and suffocated / might Ii,
there forever beside this tideous ne
gro; lie there until our bones rotted
and we also became earth. The hor
ror OF the thought brought me to III,
SA