beautiful. Her black hair was neatly laid back, a bead circlet
clasped it at the neck, and then it spread out its glossy folds over
her shoulders, falling as low as her waist. Only a second was I
permitted to enjoy the sight. She raised her eyes— Click!
‘ ‘ A look of the most despairing horror came over her handsome
features, and then with a piercing shriek that made my blood run
cold she made a cat-like spring at me. leaping backward I barely
escaped her grasp, and ran for my life, By what mania she was
seized Ido not know, but she ran after me like a panther. Next
I heard a war-whoop from the old buck, reinforced by a squaw’s
screams; then I realized that the whole household was after me.
I dodged through the trees and ran for the river, with any camera
tightly grasped under my arm, as I had many times carried the
pig-skin down the field in college days, and felt tolerably safe, but
my confidence did not last long. At one time T held the college
record for the hundred-yards dash, but try as I could she gained
on me at every bound, while the rest of the procession came trail
ing on behind.
“ I turned a quick glance to the right and to the left in search of
Baton, for I was afraid the old buck would shoot, but Eaton was
nowhere in sight. If the girl alone had been my pursuer I would
have turned and clasped her in my arms, or would have let her
make the tackle; but from the old buck and his squaw I could
hope for little mercy. Matters were getting serious. I wanted to
cry for help, but that was too cowardly, I was getting hot in
temper and body, and felt exceedingly uncomfortable as I realized
that the fleet-footed gazelle was bound to have me at her gentle
mercy and at the mercy of her less prepossessing parents, for I was
fast becoming winded. Half a mile away I could see a cabin.
Oh, if I only had strength enough to reach itl But behind me I
could now hear the quick breathing, coming closer and closer, and
at each step I imagined I could feel her reaching for my foot
ball hair. Escape was impossible. I will drop my camera, grab
the girl in my arms and hold the others at bay with my revolver,
This was the hasty plan which seemed my only salvation, and
which I tried to carry out. But just as I reached around for my
six-shooter my foot struck a snag and I tumbled to the earth, my
camera flying on ahead. My pursuer could not have been two
yards behind, and of course the inevitable happened. Her pretty
moccasin struck, me so solidly that the place was black and blue
for a week afterwards, and she described a parabola over my
The Free Lance,
[December,