Year: 1873

/ SNAONoO1AO lCCts dS EIt CcSC uIdy UC,


above the stream, there lived in early


times a settler by the name of Rufus


Branson, who with his wife and little


child, charming young girl of some


eight or nine years of age, occtpied the


rude cabin at the base of the precipiee
ia little back from the river.


Il Although greatly exposed to danger,
the Indians at that time being very
llplentful throughout the region, he


managed to live quietly for several
years


i The Indians frequently visited the
lrude 1onie of the hunter, and being al
Ilways welcomed and provided with such


food rs was in the larder, they main


tanned friendly attitude. Especially


were they fond of the child Maggie,


and more than one fierce warrior had


been seen sitting on the grass in front


of The cabin, listening to the childish
| prattle of the little one, or else ef1gag


in making her some toy or playthi1ig


from willow twigs or plant bark.
In this manner several years had


been passed, and Rufus Branson came
! 20 feel as secure as though he was with
| in the walls of a frontier fort. One


evening Branson and his wife were


seated near the doorway, when sudden


ly a shadow fell across the threshold,


and the next moment a tall savage,


whose 1eeling step and blodshot eyes


told thai he was intoxicated, appeared,


and staggering to the log steps threw
| himself upon them. His first demand
| was for ire-water, which was of course
refused, on the ground there was none
in the house. The Indian became cross
and ugly, and declared with terrible
oaths that if the liquor was not pro-
duced he would murder the whole
household. Branson was a brave, de-
termined man, and although he dreaded
the necessity, yet he saw he would be
compelled to take prompt steps to pre-
vent the savage from executing his
threat.


Waiting until the warrior had made
demonstration, which he soon did by
attempting to draw his tomahawk,
Branson sprang at him, knocked him
down with blow of his fist, and then
quietly disalmed and bound him where
he lay. After few moments of furi-
Gus rawlings and futile efforts to free
himself, the savage rolled over and sank
into a drunken sleep. He did not
awake until the next morning, but be-
fore he did so the settler had quietly
removed his bonds and restored the
weapons, which he laid by the sleeper's
side. The savage, on awakening, rose
slowly to his feet, felt his wrists, as
thoug gh tie thongs had left a feeling
there, took up his weapons and, without
speaking A word, left and disappeared
in the timber near by.


what do you think of that:" asked
the wife, turning to her husband with
a frightened look.


"Psahw! Don't trouble your head
about the drunken brutel" answered
the settler, lightly; but as he turned
away and stepped into the door he
muttered:


Like it? Well, not much. The fell
low must be watched. l was in hopes
that he would not have remembered,
but that lump where my fist landed was
enough, if nothing else, to recall the
circumstance"


The summer passed, and they saw
their drunken guest no more. He fail
ed to make his appearance. But as the
leaves began to fall, the settler one day,
while returning from hunting on the
hills, and passing through a dense piece
of timber not far from the house, caught
sight of figure lurking in the bushes,
but quickly disappeared when he ad
vanced to where it was. The figure was
that of an Indian warrior, and Bran
son would have sworn that it was the
Indian warrior whom he had knocked
down and bound the previous spring.
The news was not in any way comfort
ing. and hence he did not tell his wife
Of his discovery.


1t would only army her, he thought,
and without, perhaps, any good result
He simply told her had discovered bear
tracks near by, and that she and the
child must stay within or close to the |
house during his absence.


Several days afterwards, Rufus Bran
don heard his dogs in the timber down
by the river, and, knowing they never
opened without good cause, he caught |
up his rifle and hastened where they |
were barking. They had stuck fresh |
bear trail, and as he arrived in sight, |
they fairly lifted it, going off in a
straight line down the river.


The chase led him several miles, and, |
when he at last got shot that finished |
bruins career, he found that it was
three or four O'Clock in the afternoon. |
Swinging his meat to a sapling, out of |
reach of cat or wolf, he started for home |
to get his horse and return and fetch it |
that night.


Taking a near cut, he approached the |
cabin from the western side, where the |
timber grew heavy up to within a few
yards of the building, and consequent
ly he could not see the clearing, OF what |
might be transpiring there, until he
had passed through the wood.


Thus was it that when within short |
distance of his home, he heard wild,
piercing shrek; but he could only |
guess that something terrible must be
taking place beyond the screen of bushes
and leaves. Uttering a loud shout,
that his presence might sooner be
known, Branson sprang forward like a
wounded buck, great fear in his heart,
for he had only too clearly recognized |
in that scream the agonized voice of
his wife.


1t took but moment for him to clear
the intervening timber and under
growth, and as he dashed out into the
clearing, holding the rife ready for in
slant use, he comprehended in one swift |
glance all that had taken place, and
what was further to fear.


Near the end of the cabin, facing the
cliff, of which I have spoken, stood the
mother, her face as paid as death, her
arms outstretched, her staring eyes
fzed upon the precipitous heights up
which the figure of an Indian was
struggling.


My child my child" was all the
woman said, and Branson saw that the
bundle in the Indians arms was the
form of their only child, Maggie.


Firm of heart, and with nerves as
steady as the rocks around, the father
for moment quailed and cowed under
what his quick senses told him the
deadly peril of the little one, But he
was quick to recover.


The Indian was drawing away; step