The Monmouth inquirer., 1925-02-26

out Of here. or ri take a stick 70
youl"
Then arose a great howl from Tads,
and he kept on bowling until an
Apache woman came over the sands
from the wicldups and gathered him
up in her arms. She was his mother.
She eyed me suspiciously and walked
away with her highly demonstrative
burden.
OF course I regretted my hot lam
Guage and wanted the littles beggar
back again. 1t was SO lonely there on
the desert. The wires walled so heart
brokenly, while the sun beat down 50
fiercely In the daytime and the coyotes
yelled so dolefully at night. How ha
had crept into my heart, to be sures
1t was several days before we were
on satisfactory terms again. Tads
wanted to be a white man. He want
ed to make talk marks" on "puppcr'
with a feather-I sometimes used a
quill pen, be 1t remarlSed--and he
wanted to speak with his finger. Well.
did manage to teach him a few let
tiers from a railroad poster, and he
learned to drawl out 1T ads" IN a
droll way. With perseverance that
was really startling. afterward took
him in an uncertain way through A
page or two of "Can you see the fat
OK" and so on, wherefore his heart
was glad.
"Ill be wife mans. heap sure" he
declared In his bullfrog voice. after
he had accomplished this wonderful
feat.
Great distress racked Tad's soul on
the fatal day when the wickiups were
taken down and the tribe mounted its
mustangs to go over the hills. Tho
Apaches had to search oil over the
station to find Tads. At last, they
hauled him forth from under my bunk.
screaming Ike mad. OF no avail were
his screams, of no avail was his cry:
me yanter stay wild himl Me yanter
be wife mansl"
Apache papas are unbending and
Apache mammas are memorable. Away
they whisked Tads, leaving behind
him a tenderfoot with queer feeling
in his throat.
"WelI, the boy has the instincts OF
a white man." said, for ( was proud
Of what I fancied had made Of him,
"and he'll be a shining light among
those devilish people Of his. II we had
few more like him to put among
them, the Apache question would set
tie itself. and we could set our solr
diers to hoeing corn"
Then took up the restless life OF Q
city man, and big and busy railroad
Office claimed good share Of my at
tention for the next ten years. Yes, It
was fully that long before again
set foot upon the desert. Our train
stopped at the old station How the
pepper-tree had grown, to be sure. In
its shade sat cavalry sergeant with
a half-dozen of his men about him,
and in their midst were three Indian
prisoners, who were being taken to
the fort to be shot
They were fierce-looking fellows.
those three savages. There was one.
the youngest. who was q perfect
demon, the soldiers said.
'"Killed three women and two
babies down at Mustang Wash last
Tuesday" said the sergeant to me;
"just after one Of them had given him
his breakfast. too. He's a young one.
not more than seventeen. should
say; but he's the worst red devil I
ever saw"
Gazing at the boy captive. o
strange feeling stole over me. The
stolid face was oddly familiar
Ellis name? Blessed II | know"
said the sergeant; what do you call
yourself, young one?" he asked, giving
him not too delicate poke with the
toe Of his boot.
"Me? Why. my names Tads!s
grunted the boy.
Talks pretty good English for q
wild devil who has been over the
Mexican border SO long, doesn't her"
asked the sergeant, turning to me.
But said nothing. Frank Bailey
Willard.