Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1922-06-09

house, With bow anl arrow in his
left hand and his right stretched
above his head, its pleading palm
still outward.
Don't shoot don't nobody shootl"
shouted the old man. No shot came
from the fort, but from the woods
came yells of rage, and as the boy
streaked through the clearing an ar
row whistled past his head.
"I.et linn in" shouted Jerome, and
as Dave opened the gates another ar
row hurtled between the boys up
raised arm and his body and stuck
quivering in one of It's upright bars.
The boy slid through and stood pant
Ing, shrinking. wild-eyed. The arrow
had graZed his skin, and when Dave
lifted his arm and looked at the ooz-
Ing drops Of blood he gave startled
oath, for he saw a flash of white un-
der the loosened breech-clout below.
The boy understood. Quickly no
pushed the clout aside on his thigh
that all might see. nodded gravely,
and proudly tapped his breast.
"Paleface!" he half grunted. white
manw
The wilds were quiet. The boy
pointed to them and held up three
fingers to indicate that there were
only three red men there, and shook
his head to say there would be no
attack from them. Old Jerome studied
the little stranger closely, wondering
what new trick those red devils were
trying now to play. Dave made an
impatient gesture for silence.
"What's your name?' The boy shook
his head and looked eagerly around.
Francais-French?" he asked and
In turn the big woodsman shook his
head-nobody there spoke French.
However, Dave knew a little Shawnee,
a good deal of the sign-language, and
the boy seemed to understand good
many words in English; so that the
big woodsman pieced out his story
with considerable accuracy and turned
TO tell ii to Jerome. The Indians had
crossed the Big river, were as many
as the leaves, and meant to attack the
whites. For the first time they had
allowed the boy to go on q war party.
Some one had treated him badly-he
pointed out the bruises of cuffs and
kicks on his body. The Indians called
him White Arrow, and he knew he
was white from the girdle Of uu-
tanned skin under his breech-clout
and because the Indian boys taunted
him. Asked why he had come to the
fort, he pointed again to his bruises,
put both hands against his breast, and
stretched them wide as though he
would seek shelter in the arms of
his own race and take them to his
heart; and for the first time smile
came to his face that showed him
plainly as curious product of his
race and the savage forces that for
years had been moulding him. That
smile could have never come to the
face Of an Indian. No Indian would
ever have so lost himself iii his own
emotions. No white man would have
used his gestures and the symbols OF
nature to which he appealed. Only an
Indian could have shown such
cruel, vindictive, merciless fire In his
eyes when he told Of his wrongs, and
when he saw tears in Lydia's eyes, the
first burning in his life came to his
own, and brushing across them with
fierce shame he turned Indian stole
again and stood with his arms folded
over his bow and arrows at his breast,
looking neither to right nor left, rs
though he were waiting for Judgment
at their hands and cared ''ttle what
his fate might be, as perfect from
head to foot as statue Of the anci-
ent little god, who, In him, had for
saken the couches Of love for the tents
Of war.
(To be Continued).