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MANULITO 
 
 OR, 
 
 A STRANGE FRIENDSHIP 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM BRUCE LEFFINGWELL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "WILD FOWL SHOOTING," " SHOOTING ON 
 UPLAND, MARSH, AND STREAM," ETC. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 
 
 1892. 
 
Copyright, 1892, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 
 
 PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA. 
 
f 
 
 5 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Unrequited Friendship 6 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 The Challenge and the Duel 14 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 Eeconciliation 29 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 Old Man Kirtley 44 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 The Battle in the Eiver 60 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 Uncle Eastus 73 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 Mr. Thompson and his Horse 96 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 A Gala Day at the Village 114 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 The Horse-Eace 123 
 
 3 
 
 M604699 
 
4 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 The Departure of Manulito 162 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 The Messenger 192 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 From Tillage to City 223 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 The Gladiators 236 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Manulito 257 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The Chase 277 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Destiny 295 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Wanderer s Return 304 
 
MANULITO; 
 
 OR, 
 
 A STRANGE FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 UNREQUITED FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 " Fate made me what I am may make me nothing, 
 But either that or nothing must I be ; 
 I will not live degraded." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 THE summer days had passed, the frosts of Oc 
 tober nights had touched with gilded fingers the 
 trees and grass, the rich green of the summer-time 
 was gone, and the autumnal season was changing 
 to scarlet hues the leaves of the forest, and coating 
 with yellowish brown the blades in the meadows 
 and marshes. Among the trees, the evidences of 
 approaching winter were apparent ; the leaves fell 
 in gentle quiverings to the earth ; the wild ducks 
 were in the streams ; the prairie-chickens had 
 "packed;" the advance guard of Canada geese 
 had appeared ; and the busy squirrels were work 
 ing industriously, garnering their winter stores. 
 
 l* 6 
 
6 MANULITO. 
 
 In this early day the vast solitude seemed un 
 inhabited by human life, and the quietude was 
 apparently unbroken, the soil untouched by the 
 foot of sacrilegious man. And yet, while the birds 
 flitted through the woods and the wild turkey 
 strutted in perfect abandon, and in the bottom 
 lands the deer herded together in droves and 
 browsed in apparent safety, two hunters were trav 
 ersing the woods, one, a white man, who was 
 nearing his little home in the sparsely-settled 
 country, the other, an Indian, just returning from 
 the village, and each ignorant of the presence of 
 the other. 
 
 Beneath the branches of the great hickory-trees 
 the dwarfish burr-oaks spread their ragged arms in 
 elfish grimaces, as they looked up at their majestic 
 neighbors. The squirrels seemed to be in every 
 hickory-tree, and, while the unshed leaves hid 
 them from view, the constant pattering of the 
 "shucks" on the carpeted earth and the falling 
 leaves betrayed their presence. At one place the 
 thickness of the timber temporarily ceased, and an 
 open glade received with frank warmth the caress 
 ing beams of the October sun which streamed in 
 unbroken rays on the faded grass. The density 
 of the forest at the west would cause the most 
 unromantic mind to wonder at its apparent end 
 lessness, and to conjecture what it contained. The 
 silence of death pervaded this wilderness, when 
 suddenly the bushes parted, and as if ushered 
 
UNREQUITED FRIENDSHIP. 7 
 
 from some other world, there stepped into the 
 open glade a magnificent figure, a perfect speci 
 men of physical manhood. He was dressed in a 
 semi-civilized costume, showing his desire to con 
 form to some rules of conventionality and yet 
 retain perfect freedom of action. In height, he 
 was a trifle over six feet ; in weight, perhaps one 
 hundred and eighty pounds, but so perfect in his 
 build that he looked slighter ; he was erect, pos 
 sessed of great strength, and as supple in his 
 movements as a trained athlete. On his head he 
 wore a gray turban cap with folding rim, while 
 sewed on its front and flowing with a graceful 
 swerve over it was a single feather, the pinion of 
 the gray eagle. His jacket and trousers were made 
 of buckskin, and his feet were encased in moc 
 casins. He was apparently from twenty-five to 
 twenty-eight years of age. His forehead broad 
 and high. His eyes were of the deepest blue, and 
 in their light the soul of frankness prevailed. 
 Their glance won involuntary affection, captured 
 the fealty of man and beast, and when their owner 
 was pleading for the oppressed, or condemning some 
 act, they shone with a grayish brilliancy that caused 
 the most hardened criminal to tremble. His nose 
 was large, yet in proportion to his features, and 
 slightly hooked, an indication of the eagle when 
 aroused. His mouth was a study, while through 
 his beardless lips there shone in matchless even 
 ness teeth perfect in form and of the purest white. 
 
8 MANULITO. 
 
 His chin was broad and prominent, showing de 
 cision, and his voice was sweet and mellow. On 
 the hunter s left arm the barrel of his rifle lay 
 carelessly, while his right hand grasped the stock 
 and his fingers rested against the trigger guard. 
 Over his shoulder there hung a magnificent speci 
 men of the wild turkey. As he stepped into the 
 opening his dog was at his side, and he was one to 
 command both admiration and respect. His ears 
 were cropped, his size immense ; in color he was a 
 grayish brindle, and in breeding he combined the 
 blood of the Scotch deer-hound, the blood-hound, 
 and the bull-dog. It seemed as if he had inherited 
 the good qualities of them all, for he was fleet as 
 the swiftest deer, his nose so sensitive that he dis 
 cerned the faintest scent, and his pluck and fear 
 lessness beyond parallel. All the affection this dog 
 felt for any human being was concentrated in his 
 devotion to his master, and even the ferocity of his 
 glance softened into gentleness as he looked into 
 his eyes. 
 
 They had not gone more than a few steps before 
 the south wind brought to the ears of the hunter 
 the faint " gobble" of a turkey. Quick as thought 
 he raised his finger warningly to the dog and 
 stepped back into the thicket. Plucking a green 
 leaf from an under bough, he placed it to his lips 
 and called three times in perfect imitation of the 
 hen-turkey s call ; the gobbler answered, but the 
 hunter suddenly arose from his concealment and 
 
UNREQUITED FRIENDSHIP. 9 
 
 exclaimed to his dog, " Come, Hector ! what s the 
 use of shooting more than we want ? We ve one, 
 and that s enough. Besides, Manulito is out to-day 
 and he will bring in a deer, for he said he was 
 going down on the bottoms, and he will surely get 
 a shot. If he does he will get his deer, for although 
 his left hand is gone he is the best shot in this sec 
 tion, of course," continued he, smilingly, " except 
 ing you and me." 
 
 At this moment a partridge walked proudly into 
 the opening within a few yards of the hunter. 
 Astonished at seeing him, it sprang towards him, 
 then wheeled and darted across the glade. The 
 hunter s gun came to his shoulder. No sooner 
 had the butt touched it than the explosion fol 
 lowed, the feathers drifted with the wind, and the 
 partridge fell dead fully fifty yards from him. At 
 his command the dog brought the bird, but its 
 appearance was spoiled, for the ball had struck 
 at the base of the neck, and head and neck were 
 gone. As the hunter took it, he said to the dog, 
 " It s a shame, Hec, to wantonly destroy life, and 
 I don t often do it ; but the bird was so frightened, 
 was going so fast, and straight away, I thought I 
 would see if I had forgotten my cunning, and just 
 as soon as I saw the effects of my shot I was sorry 
 for it. But that s the way it is with us hunters : we 
 often attempt a difficult shot, but the pleasure of 
 success is more than lost in our sincere sorrow 
 over a wanton destruction of life." 
 
10 MANULITO. 
 
 As he spoke he was leaning against one of the 
 largest trees. His dog seemed uneasy, and as he 
 walked near his master, the hunter bent over him 
 and struck him playfully with his cap. As he did 
 so, the loud" report of a rifle rung out, and the hark 
 of the tree from which the hunter s body had 
 temporarily moved scattered in broken fragments 
 over the ground. With a deep growl the dog 
 bounded in the direction whence came the shot, 
 while the hunter, knowing his danger in his ex 
 posed position, sprang behind the tree. The dog 
 disappeared, but soon returned with drooping tail 
 and crestfallen look. The master s eyes filled with 
 an angry light, his form seemed to increase in 
 height, and his fingers clutched his rifle until it 
 seemed he would crush it. 
 
 " What !" said he ; " afraid ? God knows, I never 
 thought you would shrink when my life was in 
 danger, you, who have saved me at two different 
 times, and strangled the enraged and wounded 
 bucks that were trampling me and trying to gore 
 me to death ! And now you falter ? I did not 
 think that the man or beast lived that you feared. 
 Ay, I thought for me you would brave flood or 
 fire. I would do it for you, although you are but 
 
 a dog. But " and the hunter paused as a quick 
 
 suspicion came to him, " can it be possible that he 
 fired the shot ? He whom I have always befriended, 
 whose life I saved at the peril of my own ? They 
 have often told me of the treachery of an Indian, 
 
UNREQUITED FRIENDSHIP. H 
 
 but this one, Manulito, who taught me the mys 
 teries of the forests, the secrets of woodcraft, un 
 til I, ignorant before, now surpass him in skill 
 at his own craft. I cannot believe it, and I will 
 not." Turning to his dog, he said, "You are a 
 craven, and I cannot understand you. Tis true 
 that you know Manulito well, and have hunted with 
 him and me many times, but what of it? If it 
 were he that fired that shot, you should have torn 
 him to pieces. But then," said the hunter, " dogs, 
 perhaps, cannot discriminate between right and 
 wrong." 
 
 The hunter went to the place whence the smoke 
 came and critically examined the spot. The dog 
 seemed ashamed of his actions and stood still. 
 While the hunter was on hands and knees search 
 ing for some sign of the enemy, Hector stole silently 
 away, and was gone for perhaps a minute when the 
 hunter missed him. He was about to call when he 
 heard a sharp, joyful bark, which led him to where 
 the dog stood wagging his tail. At first nothing 
 was to be seen, but Hector placed his nose to 
 the ground, and there, scarcely perceptible to the 
 ordinary glance, was the faint impression of a 
 moccasin. Perhaps the hunter would have been 
 happier if he had not seen it, for he knew this 
 track. Going back to the tree, he examined it, 
 and taking his hunting-knife, extracted the bullet 
 with the greatest care and placed it in his pocket. 
 
 It was now late in the afternoon, and as he started 
 
12 MANULITO. 
 
 homeward his thoughts were bitter, and the fierce 
 passion that smouldered in his hosom found vent at 
 times in the most violent outbursts. 
 
 " Oh, the ingratitude of man !" said he. " A dog 
 will lick the hand that feeds him, and hold his pro 
 vider eternally with sincerest affection; but man, 
 base, unsympathetic man, is like a serpent, which, 
 warmed into life by some human being, will turn 
 at the first opportunity and sting the hand that 
 kept it in existence. And thus it is with me. I 
 have come near ending my life, shot down like some 
 wild beast, without an opportunity of defence, and 
 that, too, by one whom I had rescued from a death 
 of the most cruel suffering." 
 
 As he thought of these things, his grief in dis 
 covering the baseness of his friend, his deep-seated 
 anger as he brooded over this act, caused him to 
 reel at times, and the proud, elastic step which had 
 so often trod the forest with the noiselessness of the 
 panther now awakened the stillness of the woods 
 with its shambling gait. 
 
 " I would not have believed it !" cried he. " Tis 
 true I was forewarned, that is, in a general way, 
 and often twitted of this strange companionship, 
 and told that the Indian would commit some devil 
 try towards me the first chance he had. And how 
 often I have upheld him, befriended him, plead for 
 him, cared for him, clothed him, fed him ! Why, 
 at my house food and clothing were as free to him 
 as if he were one of my own kin. The powder, 
 
UNREQUITED FRIENDSHIP. 13 
 
 the ball fired at me, were gifts from my hand ; his 
 rifle, the mate to mine, I gave him, and so similar 
 is it to mine that but two persons, he and I, can tell 
 them apart. How pleased he was with it ! and well 
 he might have been, for a handsomer, truer one 
 never reached this section of the country." And 
 as he thought of this he set his teeth and brushed 
 his hand before his eyes as if to dispel some horrible 
 vision. " And to think," continued he, " that with 
 this gun, my gift, the mate of the one I now hold 
 in my hand, he should attempt to kill the man who 
 had given it to him ! It would have been murder, 
 murder most foul and accursed, for it would 
 have been done with malice aforethought. And 
 the penalty, if he were detected, would be death. 
 Ay, and death it must be, for before the setting of 
 the sun to-morrow night he or I must die. I could 
 shoot him down like the dog he is, but that must 
 not be. He shall have a chance for his life, but, 
 wide as the world is, he and I must not wander on 
 its face ; it is too small for both of us, and one must 
 leave it forever. I would not feel safe with him 
 living, for, having once attempted to kill me, the 
 imagined wrong he holds against me will never be 
 satisfied while I am alive." 
 
14 MANULITO. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CHALLENGE AND THE DUEL. 
 
 " So the struck eagle, stretch d upon the plain, 
 No more through rolling clouds to soar again, 
 Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, 
 And wing d the shaft that quivered in his heart: 
 Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel 
 He nurs d the pinion which impelled the steel." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 THE sun had gone to rest, the stars were shining 
 brightly, when the hunter reached his cabin. His 
 loving wife and prattling babes greeted him affec 
 tionately; he kissed them fondly, while a great 
 lump arose in his throat, for he felt that, perhaps, 
 this would be the last time they would meet him at 
 his door. But he hid from his wife the feeling 
 that weighed so heavily on his mind. 
 
 " "We are so glad to see you, Will, and have been 
 waiting and watching for you." 
 
 " I was delayed," said he. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "we knew you were, but 
 Manulito said " 
 
 "What!" thundered he, "Manulito, the Black 
 Wolf, been here ?" 
 
 " Why, darling," she replied, " he came some 
 time ago, and is now in his room, and I am afraid 
 
THE CHALLENGE AND THE DUEL. 15 
 
 he has been drinking hard, for he is very ugly, and 
 I told the children to keep away from him." 
 
 At the mention of the Indian s name the hunter 
 with a great effort controlled himself, and, had it 
 not heen for the presence of his wife and children, 
 a just vengeance would have been at once meted 
 out. Why had the Indian come to the house after 
 the happenings of the day ? Did he think his mur 
 derous design had been carried out, and, with the 
 cruelty inherited by his race, did he intend to pur 
 sue his purpose still further and exterminate the 
 family, now that its head was gone ? The hunter 
 did not comprehend the situation, but, telling his 
 wife he wished to go to the kitchen for a moment, 
 left her, and a few steps brought him into the pres 
 ence of his enemy. He listened, and found that the 
 Indian was asleep. The spirit of revenge arose in 
 his breast ; he set his rifle against the wall and drew 
 from its sheath his long hunting-knife. Cautiously 
 he glided towards the sleeping Indian, then from 
 the slumbering form drew the heavy blanket, expos 
 ing a form massive and muscular. The bare skin 
 was discernible in the feeble light. He recalled all 
 the cowardice of his sleeping foe, his attempt to 
 assassinate, his ingratitude, his treachery, and if he 
 spared him now, perhaps before the light of another 
 day he and his little ones would be among the dead. 
 Should he hand him over to justice? Justice in 
 this new country had no mercy for an Indian, and 
 the mere accusation of this popular young hunter, 
 
16 MANULITO. 
 
 supported as it would be by circumstantial evidence, 
 meant the conviction and death of the accused, pro 
 vided summary disposition was not made at the 
 hands of the advocates of Judge Lynch, a court 
 that was in great favor in the new West. But 
 though his thoughts were bitter, and though he 
 knew he had to deal with one cunning and merci 
 less, yet he could not kill him while asleep. The 
 hunter s body trembled in his emotion, for he had 
 resolved that on the following day he would bring 
 the Indian to an account, and settle forever the dif 
 ferences existing between them. As he looked on 
 the sleeping body of his false and ungrateful friend 
 his eyes filled with tears, for he had placed in him 
 the most implicit confidence, and the memories of 
 the delightful days they had passed together afield 
 now crowded in fleeting visions to his brain. The 
 bitter pangs of unrequited friendship rankled in his 
 bosom, and with ill-suppressed emotion he glided 
 quietly from the room. 
 
 At supper-time his wife chided him because he 
 did not eat, but he allayed her anxiety. Supper 
 being over, he told his wife he was going to mould 
 some bullets, and again entered the room of the 
 Indian. Stepping quickly to the old hearth, he 
 touched the prepared wood, and at once there shot 
 up a strong light, quivering and wavering on the 
 opposite wall and on the floor, where, wrapped in 
 his blanket, the Indian still lay. 
 
 The hunter set the stock of the rifle on the floor, 
 
THE CHALLENGE AND THE DUEL. 17 
 
 folded his arms over the muzzle of the long barrel, 
 looked steadily at the Indian, and said, 
 
 " The journeys of the day have wearied Manulito, 
 and he returns to his den and sleeps while the Gray 
 Eagle hovers o er him. I have seen Manulito from 
 hour to hour pursue the wounded elk, and when 
 the darkness of the night had overtaken him, 
 return from many miles on the back trail, and still 
 his limbs were not weary and his eyes were un- 
 dimmed, but looked into the darkness with a clearer 
 vision." 
 
 As the hunter first spoke, the Indian threw his 
 blanket from his shoulder, looked in astonishment 
 at the speaker, and then settled back in a noncha 
 lant manner as if to await developments. 
 
 " Manulito has lost his cunning," continued the 
 hunter, " when he seeks the sacredness of a home 
 he has but a short time before sought to destroy. 
 Did Manulito have good luck to-day ?" he asked in 
 a sneering tone. 
 
 As the light grew stronger the features of the 
 Indian were brought into distinctness. There was 
 nothing evil in his face. On the contrary, its regu 
 larity, his aquiline nose, his perfect teeth, and his 
 haughty, defiant looks caused one to admire, not 
 fear, him. His crown was close shaven, except a 
 tuft filled with feathers, and around his bronze 
 throat a necklace of wolf-claws were strung; his 
 body was naked to the waist, and the muscles of 
 his chest and arms stood out like cords ; his black 
 b 2* 
 
18 MANULITO. 
 
 eyes never before quailed beneath the glance of any 
 human being, but now, perhaps he felt his disgrace, 
 realized the cowardly attempt he had made to shoot 
 his best friend, and before the steady gaze of the 
 man he had betrayed his eyes fell; his confusion 
 was but momentary, however, for with a spring he 
 sat upright and exclaimed, 
 
 " Manulito does not always find his game. The 
 autumn winds have dried the leaves and the trail is 
 hard to follow." 
 
 "Did Manulito, he whom I have called " 
 
 and the hunter straightened his tall form and set 
 his teeth together firmly, " he whom I have 
 called my brother, did he go to the bottom-lands in 
 pursuit of deer and turkeys ? Or was this game too 
 small, and did Manulito leave the flowing prairie- 
 grass and follow the coursing stream, or traverse 
 the dense forest seeking larger game ?" 
 
 "Manulito left the wigwam of him whom the 
 pale-faces call Silver Tongue when the coming of 
 the day had chased to rest the departed night, and, 
 while the frost was cold and hard on the grass- 
 blades, sought the bottom-lands in pursuit of deer. 
 But Manulito was not light of foot nor true of 
 sight, and the day passed, and he is here without 
 venison." 
 
 " Yes," replied the hunter ; " but were other than 
 you to say you were not light of foot, or your aim 
 not true, I would know they lied ! Not light of 
 foot ? Have you forgotten the time when you taught 
 
THE CHALLENGE AND THE DUEL. 19 
 
 me woodcraft, the secrets of the forest, the sheltered 
 banks, how to trap the mink and beaver, how to 
 trace in air the flight of the honey bee, how to tell 
 the course of the winds, the points of the compass by 
 the mosses on the old trees ? Have you forgotten 
 the time when, with the steal thiness of a tiger, you 
 crept upon the buck which lay half concealed be 
 hind a log, and then with lightning speed sprung 
 and buried your tomahawk in the frightened ani 
 mal s brain before it could arise? How, when the 
 wounded doe sought to escape, you dashed in and 
 seized her from the jaws of the angry hounds ? 
 How, in the village races, you made but sport of 
 those who contended against you? Not light of 
 foot ? No, no ; don t say that ! And then you say 
 you are not true of sight. On the brightest day, 
 when the sun is at his height and the earth is 
 burning under his penetrating glances, I have seen 
 you look in his face without flinching. Often on 
 the prairie you have told with unfailing accuracy 
 the presence of the deer when others could see 
 nothing but sky and grass. In the forest, where 
 the trees and leaves so perfectly blend together, 
 you have called my attention to the ruffed grouse 
 as he* stood close to the body of the tree, looking 
 like some old gnarled limb, or have silently picked 
 from under some faded leaf the tiny quail that had 
 escaped its mother. In the sky, where a dot of 
 black flecked the dome of the heavens, you could 
 discern the eagle from the buzzard, the distance 
 
20 MANULITO. 
 
 ne er deceived you, for the sky, the prairie, and the 
 woods were all as open books to you. Then, do not 
 say you were not true of sight, but rather confess 
 that for some cause unknown to me you attempted 
 to murder your best friend. I do not believe you 
 were in the bottoms. I do not believe you tried to 
 kill deer to-day. But I do know that one shot you 
 fired you missed, and before the setting of another 
 sun you shall account for it." 
 
 The hunter was now pacing the floor, and the 
 Indian sat with his head bowed in his hands. 
 
 " What has Manulito to say ?" thundered the 
 hunter. 
 
 The Indian did not reply, but sat and swayed his 
 body to and fro as if in great mental or bodily 
 suffering. 
 
 " Listen," said the hunter, " and I will tell you 
 a story, every word of which is true, and your 
 missing hand will tell you of its truth. 
 
 " Five years ago there was one of the coldest 
 winters ever known in the West; the snow fell 
 heavily in November and stayed until April; one 
 fierce storm was but the forerunner of others to 
 come ; stock perished from the cold ; it was impossi 
 ble for people to leave their houses at times, so the 
 suffering and distress were great. One night a storm 
 was at its fiercest, the wind blew with terrific vio 
 lence, the snow was churned into the finest powder, 
 while the trees roared as the wind tore through 
 them, and gave to its violence the very limbs of 
 
THE CHALLENGE AND THE DUEL. 21 
 
 their bodies. Cattle were huddled together, some 
 moaning in anticipation of their expected fate, 
 others with hacks to the wind, craving the protec 
 tion of the stacks and barns. 
 
 " In a cabin, just in the edge of the woods, there 
 lived a young hunter, his wife, and child. This 
 night they sat close to the roaring fire and listened 
 to the crackling of the hickory wood, while the 
 screeching of the winds and the lowing of the 
 cattle distressed and terrified the timid mother, and 
 caused the prattling babe to seek the safety of its 
 father s arms. Suddenly there rose above the din 
 without the mournful wail of a hound. * What s 
 that ? the young man said, as he sprang to his feet 
 and listened for a repetition of the sound. It s 
 nothing but the wind wailing through the tree- 
 tops, exclaimed his wife. Then again it was heard, 
 louder, clearer than before. * Oh ! said he, i some 
 one is lost, is perishing in the storm, and the hound 
 is bewailing his fate ! 
 
 " He walked to the door ; all was darkness with 
 out, but he distinctly heard the howl of the dog, 
 and located the sound. The wife begged him 
 piteously not to go, the child repeated in baby ac 
 cents the mother s appeal ; but a life was at stake, 
 and with an inward prayer for protection, he stepped 
 into the darkness. But why continue the story, 
 Manulito ?" 
 
 The Indian arose as if to speak, but the hunter 
 motioned him to his seat, and said, 
 
22 MANULITO. 
 
 " He was gone perhaps half an hour ; to his wife 
 it seemed an eternity. She tried to look out into 
 the impenetrable darkness, but could see nothing, 
 and on her bended knees she besought her God 
 your Manitou that her husband might return. 
 Her prayers were answered, for she heard a sound 
 at the door, and quickly opening it, found her hus 
 band, who, with a final effort, dragged into the 
 house the body of a man, and fell exhausted at her 
 feet. A strange dog was with them, a hound, 
 nearly perished with hunger and exposure. This 
 man whom the master of the house had imperilled 
 his life to save was an Indian. His left hand was 
 so badly frozen that it required amputation. All 
 through the dreary winter the Indian was cared 
 for in that home, and at length recovered his 
 health. Would you not have thought, Manulito, 
 that that Indian would never have forgotten their 
 kindness ? That his life would have been dedicated 
 to them, and that he would have died to benefit 
 those who nursed him back to life again ? And yet 
 he did forget all these things, and one day stalked 
 this hunter and fired at him as he stood resting 
 against a tree." 
 
 As the hunter finished his tale, he paced the 
 floor, as if he had reached some decision that 
 would be followed without deviation. The Indian, 
 stoic though he was, tried at times to interrupt the 
 story, but the hunter waved him to silence, and at 
 last he remained quiet. 
 
THE CHALLENGE AND THE DUEL. 23 
 
 The fire had gone down, and a bed of brilliant 
 coals shone in the hearth. 
 
 "Bring me your bullet-mould and your rifle," 
 said he to the Indian. 
 
 As the Indian did this, the hunter took from his 
 pocket a flattened and battered piece of lead, and 
 said, " To-day some one fired this bullet at me ; it 
 missed me, but struck a tree against which I was 
 standing. I had accidentally moved, and this move 
 ment saved my life. My rifle and yours, Manulito, 
 have the largest bores of any to be found. If this 
 bullet fills your mould, your gun sped the bullet." 
 
 By this time the lead was melted and poured 
 into the mould. The Indian seemed indifferent, 
 and looked on as if in idle curiosity. As the 
 mould opened it disclosed a perfect ball, which the 
 hunter cooled and placed in the muzzle of the 
 Indian s rifle, showing it belonged to one of that 
 calibre. 
 
 " What has Manulito, my brother, to say ?" cried 
 the hunter, in a sneering tone. 
 
 The Indian cast his blanket from him and 
 stepped into the middle of the room, exposing a 
 form fit for the gladiatorial ring, and said, 
 
 " Manulito is here ! In a moment of passion he 
 sought to take the life of the Gray Eagle, and now 
 thanks his Manitou, the Great Spirit of his fathers, 
 that he failed. "When the buck is killed the doe 
 mourns, and when the doe dies the fawn perishes. 
 The Great Spirit, at times, protects the buck that 
 
24 MANULITO. . 
 
 the doe and fawn may live and bless the earth with 
 their young ; but in the tribe of Manulito treachery 
 is punished with death. Manulito is not afraid to 
 die. Afraid to die !" said he, in derision, and his 
 bosom swelled. He then walked over to the hunter 
 and said, 
 
 " Gray Eagle, Manulito forgot that you had saved 
 his life, forgot all he owed you ; but, prompted by 
 the Evil Spirit, sought your life. Now he remem 
 bers all, remembers how you met him at the door 
 of your cabin, on the return from a hunt, invited 
 him in, and said, The Wolf and the Eagle will 
 always be friends. Then you gave him this gun, 
 and said, We are brothers, our guns are alike. I 
 will teach you the mysteries of the books, and you 
 are to teach me the secrets of the woods. We will 
 hunt together, fish together, and when night over 
 takes us we will divide our blankets, and the 
 stars and the Great Spirit will watch over us both. 
 
 But " and the Indian hesitated, speaking in 
 
 sorrowful tones, " Manulito has attempted the life 
 of his brother and must die." 
 
 Saying this, he jerked his tomahawk from his 
 girdle and thrust it into the hands of the hunter, 
 dropped on one knee, and bowed his head to re 
 ceive the expected blow. The hunter was at first 
 too much astonished to speak, and stepped back 
 with the uplifted tomahawk, as if in a trance ; then, 
 dropping it, shaded his eyes in horror at the thought 
 of striking a defenceless man. 
 
THE CHALLENGE AND THE DUEL. 25 
 
 "Arise, Manulito," said he; "not now, not 
 now. I would not injure a man except in self- 
 defence. The traditions of your tribe may require 
 you to do this, but I cannot permit it. You shall 
 have a chance for your life, a chance fair and equi 
 table, such as an honorable white man accords his 
 foe. To-morrow we will fight; yes, fight to the 
 death. And when the sun has gone to rest, one 
 of us, perhaps both, will be in the presence of his 
 Maker. By right, you are entitled to the choice 
 of weapons. I would prefer a duel in the open 
 air; to meet as man to man, and, displaying our 
 strength and skill, to let the weaker perish. I will 
 not insist on this; but to-morrow, when the sun 
 is at its height and our shadows are shortest for 
 the day, meet me in Round Grove. The forest is 
 broad and deep, and you and I can display our 
 woodcraft, for from its depths one of us will 
 never return alive. I will wage war with you then 
 according to your mode, and let your natural cun 
 ning contend against mine, and the result will 
 prove if I have profited by your, instructions and 
 can equal an Indian in his element. I will give no 
 quarter, and expect no mercy. God knows, Man 
 ulito, I loved you as a brother. You have de 
 ceived me, and, as those who were the dearest 
 friends become, when estranged, the bitterest ene 
 mies, so you and I meet in the grove for the last 
 time. Am I not fair ? And have I not the right 
 to ask this meeting ?" 
 
26 MANULITO. 
 
 At the conclusion of the hunter s speech, the 
 Indian replied, 
 
 " "When the Evil Spirit steals into the heart of 
 the red man the poisoned sting seeks his brain, 
 and he knows not what he does. As the rivulet 
 courses down the mountain and gathers force, until 
 the stream is a river beyond the control of man, so 
 anger, jealousy, and hate course from the heart to 
 the brain, and, like the fuel thrust into the flame, 
 burn and burn until the heart is on fire and the 
 brain runs wild, and the man whose body is pos 
 sessed by the Evil Spirit knows not what he does, 
 and seeks to harm those he loves best. Manulito is 
 a warrior," as he said this he dropped his rifle-stock 
 on the floor with a loud noise, " and as a warrior 
 delights to fight, to seek, and to kill. His father 
 was a great chief, and dwelt on the banks of the 
 Mississippi for many years. The winters came and 
 went, the Manitou blessed the earth with game, 
 with corn, and the river was alive with fish. In 
 the council, he spoke, and his words were as sweet 
 honey and full of wisdom ; while in battle, his arm 
 was of oak, and his enemies fled like squaws at 
 his coming. This was many seasons ago, and now 
 Manulito stands alone, the last one of a tribe that 
 once peopled the Valley of the Mississippi as the pig 
 eons fill the woods. The Gray Eagle knows that 
 Manulito hates the pale-face race, and why should 
 he not ? Where are his brothers, his sisters, his tribe, 
 his lands? Broken and destroyed and held by 
 
THE CHALLENGE AND THE DUEL. 27 
 
 those who came with fire-water and false promises 
 to rob them of the lands which the Great Manitou 
 gave them hundreds of years before. They fled be 
 fore the pale-face tribes, and sought to find the place 
 where the sun goes down to rest at night, hoping 
 there to gain peace, and to hunt as in years gone 
 by. But, like the warrior on the trail, or the 
 hound following the wounded deer, the pale face 
 forever overtook him. Manulito thought never to 
 dwell with them ; but one night, when the frost- 
 king held the earth and the winds shrieked through 
 the trees, tired and cold and unable to go farther, 
 he sank into the snow and would have perished, 
 but was saved by a white man. For many moons 
 he dwelt with him ; he learned to read, to write, to 
 spell, and the things he once thought made squaws 
 of men pleased him most. But" and the In 
 dian dropped his glance " he learned to love the 
 fire-water of the white man." Then, as if some 
 burden was on his mind, he gazed intently into the 
 fire, and continued, " It shall be as the Gray Eagle 
 wishes, and to-morrow, at noon, Manulito will be 
 in the woods." 
 
 " Tis well," said the hunter ; " and understand, 
 you are to seek me, and I will you, and all things 
 shall be considered fair, whether to use the rifle, 
 the knife, or the tomahawk." 
 
 " All men must die," said the Indian, " but no 
 man can tell when his time will come. Should 
 to-morrow be the time that the Great Spirit has 
 
28 MANULITO. 
 
 Bet for Manulito to die, he asks the Gray Eagle to 
 bury him in his blankets, his arms at his side, that 
 he may drive away the wild beasts in his journey 
 to the Happy Hunting-Grounds. Manulito will be 
 in the grove at noon." Saying this, he strode 
 hastily from the room. 
 
 Left alone, the hunter sank into a chair and tried 
 to collect his scattered thoughts. The events of 
 the entire day were in his mind : the cowardly act 
 of the Indian, and then again his willingness to 
 give his own life as a forfeit, or rather to atone for 
 the attempted crime. He knew the Indian hated 
 the white people, although he had so many times 
 shown a deep affection for him and his dear ones. 
 He had felt that he knew the Indian, but the more 
 he thought of him the more perplexed he was. 
 He felt that perhaps he was too bitter, too hasty 
 in insisting upon a duel, in which it was now plain 
 the Indian did not wish to engage. He did not 
 attribute it to cowardice, for he knew too well 
 the courage of Manulito, and knew .he scorned 
 danger. 
 
 Wearily and sorrowfully he sought his rest, but 
 his eyes did not close in sleep. Long before the 
 break of day he was astir. As he left his home 
 that morning he said to his wife, 
 
 " Hector has never missed following a trail. To 
 day, at noon, unchain him and tell him to seek his 
 master." 
 
 He knew the dog would find him, living or dead, 
 
RECONCILIATION. 29 
 
 and would return home for help or guard him until 
 discovered. 
 
 How bitter the parting with his wife, an out 
 ward calm, concealing the cruel suffering within ! 
 Oh, the folly of a duel ! To heap years of bitter 
 suffering on innocent heads ! As he left the garden 
 gate, there reached his ears the sound of a mother s 
 voice blending in pathetic harmony with her child s, 
 as they called " Good-by, papa dear ; we will watch 
 and wait for you." Love makes cowards of men, 
 and it did of him. He longed to return to all 
 that was near and dear to him, but honor de 
 manded that he keep his word, even at the cost 
 of his life. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 KECONCILIATION. 
 
 " No thought of flight, 
 None of retreat, no unbecoming deed 
 That argued fear ; each on himself relied, 
 As only in his arm the moment lay 
 Of victory." 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 THE day was perfect, and the north wind gently 
 moved the white clouds that floated above, cling 
 ing to the ceiling of blue in the distant skies. The 
 long walk in the brisk morning air refreshed him, 
 
 3* 
 
30 MANULITO. 
 
 and all feelings of sadness yielded to one of quiet 
 determination. Before leaving his home he care 
 fully loaded his rifle, and, strangely enough, the 
 first hullet he took from his pouch was the one 
 he had moulded and marked with his initial the 
 night before. "A life for a life," thought he, 
 " and the hullet intended for me shall be tried at 
 him." But he changed his mind, selected one 
 without a blemish, and put the marked bullet 
 again in his pocket. 
 
 As the sun was at the zenith and the shadows 
 proclaimed the hour of noon, he entered the woods. 
 He had often traversed them, and knew every spot, 
 but now the air seemed oppressive, and he felt as if 
 he were in a place where death stalked abroad and 
 might appear at any moment. He watched with 
 unusual caution, and his rifle was in position to 
 fire instantly. The leaves rustled gently to the 
 earth, and as they grated against those remaining 
 on the trees, the slight sounds caused him to start 
 in expectancy. Well he might, since one false 
 movement might cause his death, for he had pitted 
 his skill against that of a child of the forest. 
 
 He had worked slowly and with extreme caution 
 for perhaps a mile, gazing intently, and scrutinizing 
 every tree and bush before approaching it. So 
 silently did he proceed that the birds of the forest 
 noted not his approach. A flock of wild turkeys 
 ran before him, and the gobbler, with arched neck 
 and curved wings, strutted within twenty yards of 
 
RECONCILIATION. 31 
 
 him; then again, a buck and two does browsed 
 unsuspiciously within close gunshot. 
 
 As the time passed and he neither saw nor heard 
 anything of Manulito, he felt the necessity of greater 
 caution and exercised it. He must have been in 
 the woods an hour, when, approaching the huge 
 trunk of an old tree which had been blown down, 
 he settled quietly between its branches. As he sat 
 there, it seemed at times as if he heard pattering 
 on the leaves; in front of him the "put-put" of a 
 turkey was heard, and the bird stepped plainly into 
 view. While watching it his blood ran cold in his 
 veins, as he heard a voice behind him, saying, 
 
 " When the Eagle is weary he seeks his rest." 
 
 He knew he was at the Indian s mercy, and slowly 
 turning his head, saw the stalwart form of Manulito 
 standing over him with tomahawk in hand. 
 
 " The Eagle is tired," continued he, " and alight 
 ing to rest, his weariness dulled his sight and closed 
 his ears. The Gray Eagle said there should be no 
 mercy, whether with tomahawk, rifle, or knife. As 
 the Gray Eagle sat beside this tree, Manulito could 
 have touched him with his rifle or have killed him 
 with his tomahawk, but the Gray Eagle is not to 
 die by the rifle or the tomahawk. If it were so, 
 he would now lie still in death with his skull cleft 
 in twain. But the Gray Eagle shall fight for his 
 life as the white man fights, face to face with his 
 foe. Come," said he, " follow me to the open 
 glade, you know where it is ; the spot where we 
 
32 MANULITO. 
 
 ate our first venison. It was there we sat together 
 and at night shared our blankets. Here it is now." 
 
 As he said this, they stepped into a beautiful 
 grassy plot, surrounded by birch and willows, while 
 at one side a silvery stream rippled along with half- 
 suppressed murmurs. The Indian leaned his rifle 
 against a tree, laid his tomahawk on the ground, 
 and said, 
 
 " On this spot, Gray Eagle, two brothers settle 
 their only quarrel. We will fight with knives, and 
 but one shall live. Should Manulito fall, bury him 
 here, but sometimes think of him, and of the happy 
 hours you and he passed together in the woods and 
 bottom-land." 
 
 As the Indian finished, he threw his blanket to 
 the ground, drew his knife, and stepped into the 
 middle of the green, awaiting the approach of his 
 adversary. The hunter drew his cap tightly on 
 his head, and with knife in hand, stepped into the 
 opening. The hunter was the taller of the two, 
 with longer arms, but his strength was concealed 
 beneath his tight-fitting buckskin shirt, which 
 seemed strained to bursting as his arms moved up 
 and down. The sun shone brightly on the Indian, 
 and the copper skin of his massive arms and 
 shoulders glistened in the light. 
 
 They eyed one another with deep attention, each 
 watching for some weak point of attack, but none 
 could be discovered. The Indian was apparently 
 on the defensive. They seemed like two human 
 
RECONCILIATION. 33 
 
 tigers thirsting for blood, each recognizing the 
 bravery and skill of the other. For fully ten 
 minutes they tried for an opening, yet neither 
 spoke a word, each feeling that he needed all his 
 strength and breath in the final struggle. At last, 
 as if intending to test his adversary, the hunter 
 rushed forward, and before the Indian could strike, 
 sprang back with the agility of a deer. The Indian 
 did not attempt to follow him up; this was re 
 peated again, then again, until the hunter said, 
 
 " Must the Eagle swoop down on the Wolf and 
 return without a bite ?" 
 
 The Indian did not reply, but clinched his knife 
 with a firmer hold, which plainly indicated his de 
 cision. As he advanced the hunter slowly retreated ; 
 the Indian circled round as if ready to spring, 
 but the other saw his opportunity, and was about 
 to strike, when he found Manulito in his presence 
 unarmed, for as he rushed forward, the Indian, 
 with a quick flirt, threw his knife into the woods, 
 and stood before him with bared breast and folded 
 arms. The hunter s uplifted arm quivered and fell 
 powerless at his side, for he could not strike a cow 
 ardly blow on this defenceless man, and stepping 
 back, he said in surprise, 
 
 " Did not Manulito want to fight with knives ?" 
 
 The Indian replied, " My tribe is gone, Manulito 
 is alone, and the only friend he ever had among 
 the whites stands before him. Yesterday, when at 
 the village, he drank fire-water until the sky and 
 
34 MANUL1TO. 
 
 trees danced before his eyes. The village boys" 
 said he was a squaw, he could not shoot, he could 
 not hunt because his footsteps were heavy and 
 he frightened the deer. Gray Eagle is a mighty 
 hunter, said they, and kills all the deer. They 
 laughed at Manulito, and stoned his dog. Bitter 
 were his thoughts, and murder was in his heart. 
 He fled from the village, his sight was blinded, his 
 heart called for revenge, and the fire-water burned 
 his body and set fire to his brain. The Evil Spirit 
 whispered in his ear, l The Gray Eagle ! the Gray 
 Eagle ! He is the one who has caused all this ! 
 Arid while the heart of Manulito was filled with 
 anger, and he walked almost like a blind man 
 through the woods, he saw his friend, and prompted 
 by the Evil Spirit, raised his gun and fired. Then 
 he fled, for he realized his cowardly and jealous 
 act, and that night when the Gray Eagle returned 
 to his lodge, and Manulito saw he was unhurt, he 
 thanked the Great Manitou for saving him, for the 
 Evil Spirit had fled, and again Manulito loved the 
 Gray Eagle better than his life. When my white 
 brother spoke and told his story, the story of the 
 stormy night, it burned into the heart of Manulito 
 like the molten lead when the bullets are cast. 
 The laws of his tribe demand that an attempted 
 crime on a brother must be punished with death. 
 His life was offered you last night, but you refused 
 to take it. To-day it is yours, but not one hair of 
 your head would Manulito injure. He is ready to 
 
RECONCILIATION. 35 
 
 die, for he has told all to his brother, and the trail 
 to the Happy Hunting-Grounds is broad and open. 
 "When the summer days of the white chief are 
 passed, and the frosts of old age have whitened 
 his head, he too must die, but in the arms of his 
 friends, and long after his silver tongue has moved 
 to anger or melted to tears the tribes of his nation. 
 Manulito is ready to die." 
 
 The hunter was deeply touched at this recital, 
 for he saw now that it was only because he was 
 insane with jealousy and crazed with liquor that 
 the Indian had attempted his life. He took him 
 gently by the hand, bade him be seated on the 
 grass, and said, 
 
 " I, too, have been hasty, and sought to enter 
 into a conflict with you to-day that meant death to 
 one or both of us. You were too brave, too proud, 
 to explain last night, but deliberately met me here, 
 intending to cast your life away and die by my hand, 
 leading me to think it was a contest, and not a 
 murder on my part. We have both been wrong, 
 and here in your presence, I say, I forgive you 
 freely and fully, as freely and unconditionally as I 
 hope my sins will be forgiven in the world to come. 
 A wound does not quickly heal by being torn apart, 
 but the salve must do its work, and with us, we 
 will forgive and try to forget. What has happened, 
 let it be between you and me. It does not con 
 cern the world, and no man shall know of it during 
 your life. And now, Manulito," said he, as he 
 
36 MANULITO. 
 
 looked tenderly into his face, " while I live my 
 home shall be open to you. In the lodge of the 
 Gray Eagle there will always be food and blankets 
 for his friend, and I will be your brother, and we 
 will hunt and fish together as we have for years. 
 Then should you be called to the Happy Hunting- 
 Grounds first, at your grave will I stand and mourn 
 for my red brother. Perhaps," and his eyes as 
 sumed a far-away, thoughtful expression, "per 
 haps, with your spirit in the land of your God, you 
 can look down and see me weep for you, for I have 
 sometimes wondered if those in heaven could not 
 look down on earth and see us weeping over the 
 grave of some dear, dead friend." 
 
 As he finished, he slipped into the Indian s hand 
 the marked bullet. Manulito proudly raised his 
 head, and laying his hand gently in the hand of 
 the hunter, said, 
 
 " The south wind in the spring-time breathes 
 new life into the departed year, and sweeter than 
 the songs of the thrush or the perfume of the lily 
 are the words of his brother to Manulito. Like 
 the voices of his father and brothers who will 
 greet him on the prairies of the Happy Hunting- 
 Grounds, and bid him enter and hunt for evermore, 
 so are the words of friendship and forgiveness that 
 my brother gives to me. From this day, whether 
 Manulito is on the prairie, or in the village, or sick 
 in the medicine lodge, no fire-water shall ever again 
 pass between his lips, and Manulito hopes that in 
 
RECONCILIATION. 37 
 
 years to come, some time, the Great Spirit will let 
 him save the life he sought to take." 
 
 At this moment a gray form shot through an 
 opening, and in an instant Hector bounded before 
 his master, and joyfully licked his hand as he lay 
 down and whined at the hunter s feet. 
 
 From the farm-house to the village the hunter 
 had moved, and with him his Indian friend. One 
 day the hunter s wife said to her husband, 
 
 "For more than a year I have noticed such a 
 change in Manulito. He idolizes you, and to me 
 and the babies he is as affectionate as a woman. 
 He takes advantage of every opportunity to do 
 some little act that will show his love for us, and 
 often when you go in pursuit of deer he steals 
 silently from the house, and at times I think he 
 follows you lest, if an accident should befall you, 
 he might not be near to render you aid. I some 
 times wish you would quit hunting, for since the 
 sad death of poor brother Harry I cannot look at 
 a rifle without thinking of him. To be sure, he 
 was thoughtless in sounding the ice with the butt 
 of his gun, but maybe all hunters at times do 
 thoughtless things, and when no accident occurs, 
 think nothing of it." 
 
 " Why, bless your sweet heart !" exclaimed Wel 
 lington, for he will hereafter be known by this 
 name, " borrowing trouble ? One-half of all the 
 ills flesh is heir to are imaginary. You know I 
 
 4 
 
38 MANULITO. 
 
 am careful, and what would our good people do if 
 I did not hunt? Why, last winter I know that 
 half the fresh meat brought to this village fell to 
 my gun. And now," said he, and his handsome 
 face brightened with a smile, " they say I hunt for 
 a living and practise law for fun. Well, I don t 
 know which I enjoy more, but I believe I like them 
 both so well that well, I will stick to my books." 
 
 " Unless," she said, " some person enters your 
 office and tells some wild story of seeing the track 
 of the much-hunted but never-captured big buck." 
 
 He laughed and said, "I won t discuss the matter 
 with you, for you know my weakness, and it would 
 be foolish for me to provoke a discussion, or say 
 anything of which my past life would be a denial. 
 But," continued he, " it does seem strange that 
 with all the hunting I have done, and all the ex 
 perience I have had, I have never seen and can 
 never strike the trail of this much-coveted big 
 buck. I have hunted every foot of ground within 
 a hundred miles of here, in all directions, and have 
 gone to places where he has been seen, but to me 
 he is an ignis fatuus." 
 
 " A charmed beast," jokingly responded his wife; 
 "but possibly, some day when least expected, he 
 will appear to you, and if he does," and she looked 
 at him with confident affection, " I am afraid it will 
 be his last day in the woods." 
 
 The next morning Wellington was up bright 
 and early, and before many of the villagers were 
 
RECONCILIATION. 39 
 
 astir was at lus office. It was the day before 
 Christmas, and as he walked briskly along, the 
 perfect morning filled his soul with delight. It 
 hardly seemed the month of December, for the 
 autumn had been so pleasant, and winter had 
 hesitated so long in his coming, that it seemed 
 more like early November. The sun had not yet 
 risen, and the quiet village was scarcely astir. The 
 noisy dogs barked at intervals, and the white smoke 
 lazily ascended from a few chimneys. Not the 
 slightest wind prevailed. There was no snow on 
 the ground, and as Wellington walked along, his 
 footsteps left a perfect impress in the flaky frost 
 which had covered the ground. 
 
 By this time the sun rose as if from the long 
 grass, and a flock of prairie-chickens sailed grace 
 fully over the village in their morning flight. 
 
 He was soon in his office and had a roaring fire 
 in the old-fashioned fireplace, which seemed almost 
 as wide as the room. The furniture was rather 
 primitive in design and construction. There were 
 a few chairs, carved and scarred by the knives 
 of thoughtless callers or clients, and a table of 
 pine, made by Wellington himself. His pens and 
 holders were from the quills of the wild goose. 
 His library, however, was quite complete, with 
 Blackstone, Chitty, and the English Reports. As 
 he searched these authorities, making a brief on 
 some case, his pen glided easily over the fools 
 cap, jotting down his points and making that 
 
40 MANULITO. 
 
 peculiar sound which, once heard, can never be 
 forgotten. 
 
 He sat back in his chair, put his feet on the table, 
 and dived deep into the contents of the dingy 
 yellow volumes. Soon the door quietly opened, 
 and in stalked Manulito, who gruffly bowed, seated 
 himself before the fire, and drew his blanket over 
 his shoulders. The. lawyer studied and the Indian 
 stared into the fire, each apparently oblivious of 
 the presence of the other. Their dogs were more 
 companionable, however, for they wagged their 
 greeting and occasionally beat a tattoo of welcome 
 with their tails on the bare floor. The silence was 
 broken by a familiar voice from without. The 
 Indian looked up in disgust and drew his blanket 
 more closely over his shoulders, while the lawyer 
 smiled and laid down his book. 
 
 " Whoa ! Consarn ye ! Whoa ! Consarn ye ! 
 Can t ye stand still, ye tarnal critters ? Say, Bill, 
 why don t ye come out an help a feller ?" 
 
 The lawyer was about to comply when the door 
 opened and in walked the questioner. He was a 
 man short of stature, with a grizzly, stubby beard, 
 whose whiteness was sadly discolored by tobacco 
 juice. He wore a cap made of coon-skins, a faded 
 yellowish-brown overcoat, belted round the waist 
 with a leather strap, shoes of buffalo-skin, and in 
 his hand held a whip with a short handle and a 
 long lash. 
 
 As he entered the door he greeted the lawyer 
 
RECONCILIATION. 41 
 
 uproariously, and continued to laugh as if at some 
 thing irresistibly funny. 
 
 " Oh, Bill !" said he, " you would have hurt your 
 self if you had seen the fun me an thet steer had." 
 And then he laughed again and slapped his knee in 
 his merriment. " Why, the confounded critter was 
 goin ter foller me plumb into your offis. You see, 
 he ain t never been ter town afore, an he s jes as 
 green as grass an don t know nothin . I allus 
 liked the critter, an this mornin I says ter the ole 
 woman, l Mother, I b lieve I ll go ter town an take 
 Wellington a load of wood. Do, Kirtley, says 
 she, an hitch Rube Rube is this green ox 
 long-side of ole Jerry. He s kinder fond of you, 
 an sides you can break him in ter yoke. So I 
 loads up the wood an hitches up the oxen, an 
 here I be. Well, thet tarnal critter was jes like 
 a green country boy, an ev rything was new ter 
 him. I didn t hev no trouble with him, cause when 
 he kinder hes tated-like, ole Jerry jes snatched him 
 right along. Well, when I arrove in front your 
 offis an started in, I m blowed if Rube didn t try 
 ter follow me in, wagon an all." Then, at the 
 thought of it, the old man laughed immoderately. 
 " Say, Bill, I ought ter hev paid yer some money 
 afore this, but times is dull an my corn didn t pan 
 out well, the hogs got the cholera, two of the cows 
 went dry, an it made me an the ole woman 
 kinder hard up for cash, but you can burn wood, 
 Bill, an I bro t you as nice a load as ever was 
 
42 MANULITO. 
 
 chopped, hick ry an white oak, an , Bill, I hope 
 afore long ter squar up with you complete." 
 
 They were on the most familiar terms, these two 
 men, lawyer and client, for while Kirtley was not 
 exactly quarrelsome, still a lawsuit lacked its flavor 
 in this settlement if he was not either plaintiff or 
 defendant. 
 
 The old man seated himself at the table opposite 
 the lawyer, and, slyly curving his thumb over his 
 shoulder at the listless Indian, said, 
 
 " Don t you sometimes feel, Bill, that two is 
 company an three s a crowd ?" 
 
 " Never mind," said Wellington; " Manulito don t 
 care for our talk. Besides, he can keep a secret." 
 
 " Mebbe so, mebbe so," said his visitor ; " but, 
 Bill, you an me is different. I ve lived in these 
 parts many years, yes, years afore you come West, 
 an I ain t yet seen no good comin of an Injun. 
 An Injun is an Injun an allus will be. I won t 
 say they will allus steal, cause they don t allus get 
 the chance. But when I sees one loafin round my 
 cl arin , I can t help but feel that my chickens ought 
 ter roost high." 
 
 " The trouble is, Kirtley, you are prejudiced, and 
 can see nothing good in an Indian. You can feel 
 free to slander the Indians in the presence of Man 
 ulito, for he respects your age and will not resent 
 it." 
 
 Manulito looked up and said, " The words of the 
 gray head are like the rain-drops on the lodge of 
 
RECONCILIATION. 43 
 
 the warrior, they make much noise but do no 
 harm. The gray head is like a squaw ; he likes to 
 talk, for it does him much good and injures no one." 
 
 "Bah! on your smooth words," said Kirtley, 
 turning from the Indian in disgust. " A smooth 
 tongued Fox once stopped at my house and got 
 on the good side of the ole woman with his fine 
 speech. She thought him such a nice Injun. He 
 was a good judge of hoss-flesh, anyhow, for next 
 mornin he didn t come ter breakfus , an he took 
 with him the best pa r of bosses thet ever forded 
 the Wapsie. Wot s goin on in town ter-morrer ? 
 Shootm -match ? I heerd tell, as I was waterin the 
 critters at the trough, thet thar was goin ter be a 
 shoot on Christmas, an thet s ter-morrer; but thinks 
 I to myself, if thar be a shoot ter-morrer, it will 
 hev to go on without the best shot in these parts 
 bein thar. Cause why? Cause, Bill, you is goin 
 with me." 
 
 " Going with you ?" asked Wellington, in aston 
 ishment. 
 
 " Yaas, goin with me." And then he placed his 
 hand to shield his voice from the Indian, leaned 
 over the table, and cautiously said, " I hev seed him 
 twic d !" 
 
 " Seen him twice ?" queried Wellington. " What 
 do you mean ?" 
 
 " I mean," said he, " that within the last two 
 days I hev seed the big buck twic d, an both times 
 at the same place." 
 
44 MANUL1TO. 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 OLD MAN KIRTLEY. 
 
 " Fields, woods, and streams, 
 Each tow ring hill, each humble vale below, 
 Shall hear my cheering voice ; my hounds shall wake 
 The lazy morn, and glad th horizon round." 
 
 SOMERVILLE. 
 
 "I DON T know what to think, Kirtley; but so 
 many have told me of seeing this buck, which 
 seems to bear a charmed life, that I always feel 
 when I hope to find him that I will be doomed to 
 disappointment. But tell us where you saw him." 
 
 The old man rested his arm on the table, bit off 
 a big chunk of tobacco, and said, 
 
 " The fust time was day afore yesterday. The 
 hogs hed broke out, an , es the wolves air gettin 
 kind o thick in the timber, I went ter look em up. 
 I started airly in the mornin , an tramped an 
 tramped till my old legs said i Rest ! Yer know 
 I m bothered with the rheumatiz, an can t tramp 
 like I could onc t. My dog was with me, an I tuk 
 out my lunch an sot down by a log thet was down 
 by the south ford ; yer both know the place, jes 
 whar the sand-bar is, whar the eddy is, whar I seed 
 you two fishin two years ago, you know whar, 
 jes about ten rods above the cattle ford. All at 
 
OLD MAN KIRTLEY. 45 
 
 onc t the dog gave a low whine, then growled. I 
 looked up, but saw nothin . Then I looked ag in, 
 an , Lawd ! Bill, if thar, right in gunshot, wasn t 
 the biggest buck I ever laid my eyes on, an I hev 
 been here fur twenty years. Fust I thought it was 
 an elk, he looked so big. An what do you think ? 
 I m blowed if I hed a gun ! How I wished fur 
 you, cause I know d your heart is sot on gettin 
 him. Well, he didn t see me, but stood on the 
 bank an looked up and down es if he hed lost 
 somethin , or was afeard some one was lookin fur 
 him, then he waded inter the Wapsie, an come 
 straight across at the foot of the bar. I j es kep still. 
 Gosh ! but he was a big feller, an his left horn was 
 broke off near the tip, an his face an head looked 
 kinder gray-like. He come straight on, an waded 
 up, then climbed the bank within twenty feet of 
 me. I ain t no coward, but somehow I felt kind o 
 scairt, fur the brute looked powerful ugly. The 
 dog got brave, an I said Sick im ! Well, he 
 did i sick im, but thet buck jumped about four 
 teen feet one side when he first saw the dog, then 
 the next thing I seed, the dog was about ten feet in 
 the air, an the buck stood waitin fur him ter come 
 down. When he did, he went up ag in, then 
 landed in the river. I stepped out, an when the 
 buck saw me his eyes looked es big es saucers, his 
 horns seemed ter kinder grow sharp, his hair riz, he 
 stamped and snorted es though he tho t I wanted 
 ter fight, an thinks I ter myself, < Kirtley, yer hevn t 
 
46 MANULITO. 
 
 got no gtfn, an yer hev got a big family. Yer 
 ain t lost no buck, you air lookin fur your stray 
 hogs. So I jes got behind a tree, an the buck 
 walked away, all the time lookin out the corner 
 of his eye at me. Then he started inter a trot, 
 an I waved my hat at him an hoped ter meet him 
 ag in when I hed a rifle, an axe, a Bowie-knife, an 
 you an the Injun with me." 
 
 Wellington laughed as he thought of his friend s 
 plight, but Manulito drew his chair nearer and let 
 not a word escape him. 
 
 " That was the fust time," continued Kirtley. 
 " The second time was yesterday. I got my gun in 
 the mornin an tho t I would lay for his buckship, 
 an I felt kinder proud ter think that I was goin ter 
 be the one ter kill the buck, an I pictered in my 
 mind how cheap you an the Injun would feel ter 
 hev me come ter town with the animile, an hev 
 all the boys crowd round an congratulate me, an 
 shake hands with me, an thet sorter thing. But, 
 drat the luck ! When I come ter start thar wasn t 
 a bullet in the house, an I couldn t find the moulds. 
 Now, I was mad ; but I was ready ter go, an go it 
 was. I didn t hide in jes 7 the same place, but I 
 got where the buck couldn t scent me, an then hid. 
 He didn t come on time ter the ford, but come 
 he did at last, an acted kinder timid-like. He 
 looked, an sniffed, an acted mighty cautious, 
 then hurried across, an soon es he struck the bank 
 trotted off. I didn t make any noise, so he didn t 
 
OLD MAN KIRTLEY. 47 
 
 know I seed him. Arter lie was gone, I went ter 
 the bank an 7 looked at his tracks. Big? They 
 were es big es a cow s an lots of J em. I jes 5 
 quietly come home, said nothin ter nobody, an 
 bro t this load of wood es a blind. Now, I hev 
 told yer whar the brute is hidin , an if yer don t 
 want ter go, I ll try him myself." 
 
 " Go ! said Wellington. " I wouldn t miss the 
 chance for a farm. You have struck his runway, 
 and he will show up again. If I am alive and well 
 I will be at your house to-morrow morning before 
 daybreak, but not alone, for Manulito will go with 
 me." 
 
 " The Gray Eagle needs no help to kill the buck," 
 replied the Indian. "His footsteps are light, his 
 aim sure." 
 
 " But perhaps you will be favored with a shot," 
 replied Wellington. " Have you ever seen this 
 buck, or struck his trail ?" 
 
 " Ugh ! two years ago, at the mouth of the Elk 
 River, when Manulito was on the trail of another 
 deer, he saw, away up the stream, this big buck, 
 too far to shoot. He followed the trail three days, 
 sleeping at night wherever the darkness overtook 
 him, through the bottom-land, over the bluffs, to 
 the mouth of the Maquoketa, then through the 
 timber until he reached the land of the Lost Na 
 tion, but did not get a shot. Another time he saw 
 the big footprints on the sand at the mouth of the 
 Meredosia, and followed the trail along the river as 
 
48 MANULITO. 
 
 far as the Rock "River, then across the Meredosia 
 to the Mississippi, and struck its trail in the land 
 of the lowas, but lost it again on the Wapsie bot 
 toms." 
 
 As the Indian finished, Wellington said, 
 
 "Let us hope that to-morrow we will be more 
 fortunate, and capture this charmed buck. But 
 one thing I regret, that Hector cannot go with me. 
 He is too lame, and his shoulder hasn t healed from 
 the cut he received in his last fight with that four- 
 pronged buck. But Ben can go ; he is young but 
 courageous, and will be all right." 
 
 Kirtley arose to depart, saying, " Airly in the 
 mornin , Bill, we ll look fur yer at my cabin. The 
 ole woman thinks es much of you es she does of 
 her own boys, an yer will find suthin hot ter drink 
 an suthin good ter eat waitin fur yer at the 
 clearin ." 
 
 As he left the door, he turned again and said, 
 " Don t furgit ter come airly, Bill, fur me an the 
 ole woman will be a- waitin an a-watchin fur ye." 
 
 Wellington tried to induce the Indian to go with 
 him, but he replied, 
 
 " Twice has Manulito been on the trail, but lost 
 it. Let the Eagle try." 
 
 Next morning, long before the break of day, the 
 hunter was prepared to start. It was a tramp of 
 four miles to Kirtley s home, and as he bade his 
 wife good-by she tenderly clung to him, loath to 
 have him go, and said, 
 
OLD MAN KIRTLEY. 49 
 
 " Last night, "Will, I dreamed of brother Harry, 
 and saw him just as I see you now, light-hearted, 
 active, and merry. It was a happy dream, for the 
 past was hidden from me. I awoke, and and 
 oh, Will ! I could not help feeling, although I 
 fought against it, that some evil would befall you 
 to-day. Don t think me foolish, but I have had 
 one dear one accidentally killed while hunting, and 
 I cannot bear to think of harm to you." 
 
 " Why, darling," said he, " dreams always go by 
 contraries. To dream of evil to me means I will 
 have good luck, and so I believe I will. Dry your 
 tears, and, if weep you must, then wait until I 
 return, and let them be tears of joy." 
 
 He kissed her good-by and stepped out into the 
 frosty air, while the twinkling stars feebly lit his 
 pathway. Before the break of day he, with Ben 
 at bis side, stood at the door of Kirtley s dwelling 
 in the clearing. He received a hearty welcome 
 from the master of the house, while the good 
 woman shook both hands, gazed at him fondly, 
 and cried, 
 
 " Oh, but I be glad ter see you, Will ! You don t 
 know how glad I be. You jes ought ter be shamed 
 of yourself not ter drap in on us oftener. But I 
 s pose," and she drew herself up with assumed 
 dignity, " thet sence tbey is goin ter make you 
 jedge you hev kinder forgit your ole frien s ; but 
 we ain t goin ter allow you ter forgit us, be we, 
 pap ?" And she looked to Kirtley for an answer, 
 c d 6 
 
50 MANULITO. 
 
 " Not by a jug-full," replied that worthy. " Bill 
 an me understand one nother. Bill knows we ain t 
 much fur style, but our hairts is right, eh, Bill?" 
 
 Wellington laid his hand tenderly on the good 
 woman s arm, and said, 
 
 " Mother, you have known me too long to think 
 that any honors I might receive would lessen my 
 love for you and my dear old friend beside me. 
 Don t think of that, but remember, whatever I may 
 be, to me you will ever be Mother Kirtley, and to 
 you," said he, turning to Kirtley, "I will always 
 be " 
 
 " Bill !" said the old man, as he struck his fist on 
 the table. 
 
 As the sun rose and the leaden sky turned to a 
 golden yellow in the east, Wellington and Kirtley 
 left the house. The reflection of the sky on the 
 water in a pond near the house attracted the 
 hunter s attention, and he said, 
 
 " See, Kirtley, how beautiful the water is. It 
 looks like a mirror, and draws from the sky its 
 beautiful colors of gold and crimson and blue, 
 and out there at the northern edge it merges into 
 a rich carmine, a rosy red." 
 
 "Yaas, Bill," replied his companion, "them 
 colors is all right, an the pond looks purty, es yer 
 say, but jes es yer spoke I wasn t ezzactly thinkin 
 of thet, but I was thinkin w at a good place it 
 would be fur the hogs ter waller in, or the critters 
 ter stan in an fight flies next summer." 
 
OLD MAN KIRTLEY. 51 
 
 Wellington laughed, and said, " If I am poetical, 
 you are certainly practical, Kirtley." 
 
 A short walk brought them to the banks of the 
 Wapsie, a crooked, meandering stream, which 
 flowed in uncertain directions its entire length. 
 The river was low, and the current passed along 
 this quiet morning in sleepy languor. During the 
 rainy season, or when the snow melted at the break 
 ing up of winter, it soon overflowed its confined 
 banks, and spread, like a pestilence, no one knew 
 to what limits. But the spring-time had departed, 
 and with it the high water. The autumn had been 
 dry, and the crooked stream with its stranded logs, 
 its drooping trees with roots clinging to the banks, 
 and its great sand-bars, seemed stripped of its power, 
 and caused the beholder to look on its bed with 
 indifference. 
 
 As "Wellington and his companion walked speed 
 ily along, the latter said, 
 
 " Be yer goin down ter the ford fust thing ? If 
 so, it ain t more nor three miles, takin a straight 
 cut." 
 
 " Yes," replied "Wellington, " we will go the 
 shortest route; and" he stopped and faced his 
 companion " remember that silence in the woods 
 is the only true way to success in hunting. Any 
 thing you have to say, first touch my arm, then 
 whisper it to me. Another thing: follow in my 
 footsteps and avoid treading on dry sticks." 
 
 They had gone but a short distance when Kirtley 
 
52 MANULITO. 
 
 touched bis companion, and, standing on tiptoe, 
 whispered to him, 
 
 " Say, Bill, can t talk much ?" 
 
 The hunter smiled and shook his head. 
 
 " Then yer must ease up your long legs, fur 
 when I try ter foller in your steps I kinder strain 
 my trousers, an I feel the rheumatiz in my side." 
 
 "Wellington laughed, and walked slower and with 
 shorter step, while the old man tried to step in his 
 footprints. At times they penetrated the deepest 
 thickets, then came again and again in sight of the 
 river, but they knew the lay of the land, and went 
 silently on. Game was plenty, and quail, grouse, 
 and turkeys were at times seen, oftener heard, in 
 the bottoms. As- they stepped into an opening 
 where the tall grass met the young willows on the 
 water s edge, Wellington peered down the river, 
 looking intently at a point below. 
 
 " Yaas, thet s the p int," whispered his compan 
 ion, " way down thar whar the big sand-bar runs 
 inter the river." 
 
 They stepped quietly back, and proceeding with 
 caution walked stealthily along. As they neared 
 the bend Kirtley touched his companion, then 
 whispered, 
 
 " We re here, Bill ; this is the spot, an jes cross 
 the river, by thet tall elm, is whar I fust seed the 
 big buck." 
 
 Placing his finger to his lips to indicate the 
 necessity of caution and silence, the hunter, his 
 
OLD MAN KIRTLEF. 53 
 
 companion, and the dog stepped into a thicket of 
 willows, where they had an open view up and down 
 the stream. 
 
 As they sat in their blind, Wellington, with a 
 true hunter s instinct, looked inquiringly in all 
 directions and studied the situation. Up-stream 
 the winding river curved and was lost behind the 
 projecting banks, while below it wound around and 
 turned in again, leaving the hunter and his com 
 panion hidden on an out-jutting point. On the 
 opposite shore, the place where at each previous 
 time the buck had made his appearance, the bank 
 stood up in tiny bluffs, cut sharp by the flowing 
 river, or receded gradually from its bed. The tall 
 slough-grass shone pale-yellow in the sunlight, while 
 here and there the darkness of the deep forest was 
 relieved by the whitened trunk of some birch-tree. 
 In spots little willow patches extended into the 
 stream, showing their green withes strongly in con 
 trast with the grayish-brown of the huge elms 
 which seemed to preponderate in the woods. In 
 front of them a great sand-bar filled half the river 
 width and raised its huge back three or four feet 
 above the water s level. 
 
 Wellington and his companion had been seated 
 for fully half an hour, and there were still no signs 
 of the deer. Kirtley, who was unused to such long- 
 continued silence, occasionally shook his head at 
 "Wellington, and at last whispered, 
 
 "I hope yer hev n t doubted me, Bill, cause 
 
54 MANUL1TO. 
 
 what I told yer bout seem the buck was the 
 Lawd s truth." 
 
 Wellington did not doubt him, but thought per 
 haps it was his ill luck not to be able to get a shot. 
 Ducks and geese were plentiful, and, hearing the 
 swishing of wings 2 he turned his head in anticipa 
 tion, when he saw a flock of Canada geese coming 
 with set wings close down to the water s edge. 
 Their great speed carried them beyond the bar, 
 when they turned, swung over the blind, and settled 
 on the sand. Kirtley touched Wellington s arm, 
 and whispered, 
 
 " Gall, Bill, gall ! Did ye ever see sech imper- 
 dence? Why, when they sailed over us thet old 
 gander kinder looked down at us es much es ter 
 say, Hello, boys ! What are ye doin thar ? 
 
 Wellington pressed his companion s arm and 
 motioned with his head to the river. As he did so 
 a flock of fully twenty mallards dropped softly into 
 the stream and drifted lazily with the current within 
 thirty yards of their blind. The ducks chatted, 
 while an old drake uttered with musical vibration 
 a mellow " M amph" which words cannot describe. 
 The sunlight playing on them produced a most 
 pleasing picture of glowing colors. Wellington was 
 a great lover of nature, and he was silently ad 
 miring the beauty of the scene when his arm was 
 touched, and, much to his surprise, his companion 
 whispered, 
 
 "Thar, Bill, thar s what I call a purty sight. 
 
> M - i 
 
 O H3 Q 
 
 3- 
 
 * p 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 CD 
 
 t> 
 
 ro 
 
 purple, 
 
 clied it, beat-8 
 
 drii 
 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 55 
 
 [n my pinion 
 tern birds. I 
 ly handsome, 
 .p like bright 
 enin himself, 
 ider stan s on 
 -d ! An talk 
 on his head? 
 I. Then see 
 1 his neck is 
 1 water is all 
 :he sky, but I 
 ches nut, an 
 a maple-leaf 
 our colors in 
 
 ducks slowly 
 
 .. As he fin- 
 
 nd was about 
 
 the opposite 
 
 bu 
 
 
 don t move ! 
 w flash at the 
 your head ! 
 
 To the ordinary observer nothing would have 
 been visible, but Wellington had discovered some 
 thing which made his heart bound, for above the 
 tops of the willow-twigs he saw a pair of wide- 
 spreading antlers, white and branched like a scraggy 
 burr-oak. He knew they must belong to an animal 
 
54 
 
 
 
 
 
 what I told 
 Lawd s truth. 
 
 Wellington 
 haps it was hi 
 Ducks and g 
 swishing of v\ 
 tion, when he 
 with set win ( 
 Their great E 
 when they tur 
 on the sand, 
 and whisperec 
 
 " Gall, Bill, 
 dence ? Why 
 gander kindei 
 say, * Hello, b( 
 
 Wellington 
 motioned with 
 a flock of fulh 
 the stream and 
 thirty yards c 
 while an old ( 
 a mellow " M ; 
 The sunlight 
 pleasing pictur 
 
 a great lover of nature, and he was silently ad 
 miring the beauty of the scene when his arm was 
 touched, and, much to his surprise, his companion 
 whispered, 
 
 "Thar, Bill, thar s what I call a purty sight. 
 
 . 
 zilvw- i thin 
 
 : 
 
OLD MAN KIRTLEY. 55 
 
 Talk about reflections on the water ! In my pinion 
 it ain t nowhar ter be compared ter them birds. I 
 can t say es them ducks is partickerly handsome, 
 cause yaller and brown don t show up like bright 
 colors, but jes look at thet drake preenin himself, 
 an see how he flips his wings an kinder stan s on 
 the water. Look at him juke his head ! An talk 
 bout colors ! How s thet fur green on his head ? 
 Greener nor eny grass ye ever seed. Then see 
 how it shines ! An thet white round his neck is 
 whiter nor a parson s tie. Your still water is all 
 right, Bill, reflectin the colors from the sky, but I 
 calkilate thet the green, an white, an ches nut, an 
 purple, an gray, an the colors like a maple-leaf 
 after the frost has teched it, beats your colors in 
 the pond all holler." 
 
 While Kirtley was talking the ducks slowly 
 drifted out of sight around the bend. As he fin 
 ished his speech Wellington smiled, and was about 
 to reply, when he gazed intently at the opposite 
 shore, then hissed, 
 
 " Silence, Kirtley ! Don t speak ! don t move ! 
 but look across the river in that willow flash at the 
 foot of the bar. Careful ; don t raise your head ! 
 
 To the ordinary observer nothing would have 
 been visible, but Wellington had discovered some 
 thing which made his heart bound, for above the 
 tops of the willow-twigs he saw a pair of wide- 
 spreading antlers, white and branched like a scraggy 
 burr-oak. He knew they must belong to an animal 
 
56 MANULITO. 
 
 of immense size, and yet their owner did not move 
 them, but, standing with body concealed, apparently 
 thought he was fully hid from view. Wellington s 
 finger was on the trigger-guard, and he waited 
 and watched, as cool and as calm as if nothing 
 were in sight or expectancy. Suddenly and quietly 
 the willows parted, and the nose, then the head 
 and antlers, of an enormous buck appeared. He 
 was as shy as a wild turkey, and as timid as a 
 maiden taking her first ocean bath. As his head 
 and shoulders moved into sight he looked up, 
 down, and across the river as if in expectation of 
 danger, then, after becoming satisfied that there 
 was nothing to be feared, he moved to the water s 
 edge as if to cross. He stepped cautiously into the 
 clear stream, bowed his long neck, daintily sipped 
 the water, then, like a connoisseur tasting wine of 
 ancient vintage, raised his head and thoughtfully 
 swallowed it, as if inwardly passing on its merits. 
 
 Kirtley sat in joyous anticipation, for he felt cer 
 tain Wellington would get a shot ; the dog saw the 
 deer, and his teeth chattered with excitement. The 
 buck stopped and listened, as if he heard some 
 sound, but nothing was audible except the rustle of 
 the dry leaves as they fell to the earth, or the swish 
 ing of the water against an overhanging limb as 
 the current moved it up and down. 
 
 Wellington now had a good chance to shoot, for 
 the deer was in the water, and he saw that the 
 course it was taking would bring it into an opening 
 
OLD MAN KIRTLEY. 57 
 
 within fifty yards of him. As the buck reached 
 the shore he was temporarily concealed behind a 
 fallen tree, and as he walked into view his back 
 was towards the hunters. Wellington, with rifle 
 levelled, waited for him to turn his body or head, 
 but fortune seemed to favor the deer, for he walked 
 swiftly away, giving no chance to secure a side or 
 head shot. Wellington whistled slightly to secure 
 the animal s attention, but he only hastened his 
 gait. Despairing of getting a better shot, he aimed 
 at the head just below the butt of the horns and 
 fired ; as the rifle cracked the buck dropped in his 
 tracks, and Kirtley yelled and danced like an Indian, 
 but Wellington sprang towards the deer, drew his 
 knife, and touched its point to the animal s throat. 
 The effect was electrical, and the buck sprang to 
 his feet, transformed into a beast of the most deadly 
 character. His nostrils dilated, and there issued 
 from them blasts of defiance and anger. His hair 
 was reversed and stood up like the bristles on a hog. 
 His eyes flashed with a deadly light and seemed 
 twice their natural size, while they changed rapidly 
 to red and green. 
 
 Wellington recognized his danger. The dog, 
 young but brave, seized the animal by the throat ; 
 but the enraged buck seemed to see in the hunter 
 his natural enemy, and before Wellington could 
 get to a sheltering tree sprang with lowered antlers 
 towards him, and the impetuosity of the charge 
 carried hunter, dog, and deer into the stream. As 
 
58 MANVLITO. 
 
 they struck the water the dog loosened his hold, 
 then swam to the attack again. The water was 
 shallow, perhaps four feet deep, which gave the 
 buck a chance to exercise most, if not all, of his 
 strength. As the dog neared the buck, the enraged 
 animal stood on his hind legs, raised his forefeet, 
 and with a sickening crash his sharp hoofs, with 
 scarce a second s variation, clattered upon the noble 
 animal s head, and with a low moan the faithful 
 brute sank lifeless beneath the water. 
 
 "While this was going on Wellington had seized 
 a log, whose end had drifted on the shore, and 
 pulled it in front of him. He was none too quick, 
 for now the maddened brute started towards him. 
 It was the first time this king of the forest had 
 been brought to bay, and all the animosity and 
 fearlessness which had been concentrated in him 
 for years suddenly broke forth. He surged the 
 water before him, then, as if on land, he beat it 
 in his pawing till it frothed and foamed with the 
 whiteness of snow. His eyes were now a greenish- 
 red and blazed with anger, while there was inter- 
 mitten tly ejected from his nostrils a " p-shew" like 
 steam escaping from a leaking valve. 
 
 Wellington had been in close quarters before, 
 and waited coolly for the attack, intending to keep 
 the log between him and his enemy. The buck 
 attempted to climb over this barrier, and as he did 
 "Wellington struck at his throat with his knife, 
 making a deep incision on the animal s neck, which 
 
OLD MAN KIRTLEY. 59 
 
 only increased its anger. It then tried to jump 
 over the log, but the water held it back ; again it 
 attempted to climb over, and as it did "Wellington 
 seized it by its antlers, pulled its nose beneath 
 the surface and tried to drown it, but the animal 
 seemed possessed of endless strength, for it raised 
 its head and shook him off. Again it tried to get 
 at him over the log, and, infuriated himself, he 
 struck at it again and again with his knife, but 
 the buck seemed to bear a charmed life. Deter 
 mined to end the contest, Wellington advanced. 
 The buck sprang at him, and as he tried to avoid 
 the plunge of its horns its sharp hoof struck his 
 hand, cutting it to the bone, and his knife flew spin 
 ning from him and fell, yards away, into the river. 
 A dull feeling of despair came over Wellington. 
 
60 MANULITO. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BATTLE IN THE RIVER. 
 
 " Hand 
 
 Grasps hand, eye lights eye in good friendship, 
 And great hearts expand, 
 And grow one in the sense of this world s life." 
 
 EGBERT BROWNING. 
 
 EJRTLEY saw what had happened, and shouted 
 to him to keep his courage up. 
 
 " Shoot him !" cried Wellington. 
 
 Kirtley seized his rifle, levelled it, and the ham 
 mer fell with a dull snap. 
 
 " Load it quick, for heaven s sake !" cried Wel 
 lington. But his heart sank within him as Kirtley 
 replied, 
 
 " Can t do it, Bill, cause you hev the powder- 
 horn round your neck." 
 
 At these words Wellington knew that unless he 
 could drown the buck or tire him out he must lose 
 his own life. The great animal was becoming ex 
 hausted, but the cold had chilled Wellington until 
 he had lost half his strength. Time and again he 
 tried to keep the brute s nose beneath the water, 
 but each time was shaken of. He knew the battle 
 must be decided soon, or, chilled and enfeebled as 
 
THE BATTLE IN THE RIVER. 61 
 
 he was by his long fight and by the cold water, he 
 would be at the mercy of the mad beast. As the 
 buck tried again to clamber over the log, Welling 
 ton threw his whole weight onto its antlers. Man 
 and beast struggled and fought, now up, now down. 
 The log floated from them. Still they fought on. 
 At last, with an awful shriek, the buck tore from 
 the grasp of the hunter, and both man and beast 
 saw there was no barrier between them. Breath 
 less, and scarcely able to stand, Wellington knew 
 his time had come. Swifter than a thousand 
 visions his past life flew before him, but above all 
 was the thought of his wife and helpless babes. 
 The buck jumped towards him, with bloody froth 
 dripping from its mouth ; his cruel hoofs were 
 raised to strike. "Wellington feebly raised his 
 hands above his head to protect it and closed his 
 eyes, but at that moment a quick report of a rifle 
 broke from the opposite shore, the buck swayed, 
 his head drooped to one side, and fell with a heavy 
 splash. Wellington feebly staggered backward, 
 then, with a last effort to catch himself, fell forward 
 fainting, with his arms across the body of the dead 
 buck, his face as white as snow in the shining sun. 
 A dark form shot with incredible speed from the 
 shore, and the apparently lifeless hunter was ten 
 derly lifted in the arms of Manulito. 
 
 During the final struggle Kirtley ran up and 
 down the bank like a wild man, wringing his 
 hands, crying, swearing, and praying, and when 
 
 6 
 
62 MANULITO. 
 
 he saw Manulito raise the head of Wellington 
 from the carcass of the buck, he waved his hand 
 and danced and yelled with joy. 
 
 " Make fire quick," cried Manulito, and never 
 was a fire started sooner. 
 
 As the Indian came ashore, towing the inani 
 mate form of the hunter and the dead deer, Kirtley 
 ran to meet him. "Is he dead?" he asked, sor 
 rowfully. 
 
 " No ; only fainted and very weak," replied the 
 Indian. 
 
 At this Kirtley laughed and cried alternately, 
 " Oh, Manulito, you are an angel, a brick, a 
 warrior, a cuss! Lawd, but I ll never furgit this 
 act yer done ter-day." 
 
 The Indian simply replied, " More fire ; give 
 Manulito fire-water." 
 
 As he received it from Kirtley, he poured a few 
 drops into Wellington s mouth. The effect was 
 quickly apparent, for the unconscious man stirred, 
 opened his eyes momentarily in doubt, then, as if 
 understanding all, threw a soul of love into one 
 look which he gave Manulito, and then closed his 
 eyes again. They built a wall of brush around the 
 fire except at his feet. Kirtley gave him his heavy 
 coat, they rubbed him, and in a short time he 
 looked at them both with that fond look they knew 
 so well. 
 
 " Where is the buck ?" said he. 
 
 Manulito replied, " My brother shall see him." 
 
THE BATTLE IN THE RIVER. 63 
 
 Saying this they dragged the huge beast to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Let me open him up," said Kirtley, "I hev 
 an ole grudge ag in him, an it ll be heap o satis 
 faction to git partly even with him in thet way." 
 
 He deftly took out the inwards, and as he did so 
 something hard dropped into his hand. He looked 
 at it, then handed it to the Indian, saying, 
 
 " Here, Manulito, is your bullet thet sped true to 
 the heart an saved your best friend." 
 
 As Kirtley said this, the Indian took the mis 
 shapen bullet and handed it to Wellington, saying, 
 
 " See ! my brother, see !" 
 
 As Wellington looked his eyes filled with tears, 
 for there, plainly to be seen, was the " W" he had 
 marked. It was the bullet he had dug from the 
 tree and had given to Manulito in the forest. He 
 put it in his hunting-shirt, while the Indian said, 
 
 " "When the ground is ploughed in the spring-time 
 and the seed sown, the warm sun makes it grow to 
 ripened grain ; so evil deeds, when forgiven in a 
 brother s heart, are things the Great Manitou does 
 not overlook. When the Gray Eagle left his cabin 
 this morning Manulito did not intend to hunt this 
 day, but as the sun rose in the heavens and he 
 saw how beautiful was the morning, his heart 
 longed for the stillness of the woods, and he struck 
 the trail which leads to the Wapsie far below the 
 ford. His footsteps were aimless; his heart was 
 light, his head clear ; and the birds seemed never 
 
64 MANUL1TO. 
 
 to have sung so sweetly or the winds to have blown 
 so musically as to-day. At one time he leaned 
 against a tree while he looked on the smooth 
 waters, and in fancy he saw himself a pappoose 
 again, and lived among the birds and flowers as he 
 did when a child in years gone by. Then in the 
 waters he read, as if written in a book, his whole 
 life, and he saw the fate of his people. He wan 
 dered through the bottom-land down to the mouth 
 of Silver Creek, and as he did, a buzzard sailed 
 high in air, but fell dead at the report of his rifle. 
 Then he loaded his gun, and, when too late, for he 
 intended always to keep it, he saw that he had 
 placed in the muzzle the marked bullet. He could 
 not withdraw it, and so forced it down. It seemed 
 at this time as if the day was growing chill, for the 
 blood in the veins of Manulito was cold. The sun 
 was bright, the air warm, and he could not under 
 stand. A crow flew over his head, crying, < Caw, 
 caw ! and its cry grated on the ears of Manulito, 
 for it sounded to him like the voices of the children 
 in the village the day they stoned his dog. It 
 seemed as if some great danger lurked in the 
 woods, and the wind through the tree-tops was like 
 the lonesome wailing of the squaw when her war 
 rior has been brought to her, dead. Manulito 
 looked around, but saw arid heard nothing. Then, 
 as he stood still and hearkened so silently that he 
 ceased to breathe and his heart almost stopped beat 
 ing, a faint sound reached his ears, and in spite 
 
THE BATTLE IN THE RIVER. 5 
 
 of the noise of the chattering birds, he knew it was 
 a human voice. The blood rushed like fire through 
 his veins, and the winds shrieked to him, The Gray 
 Eagle ! The Gray Eagle ! To the ford ! To the 
 ford ! Swifter than the hawk darts after its prey, 
 swifter than the tiger rushes to defend her young, 
 swifter than the antelope bounds over the plain, 
 Manulito sprang forward. At other times he would 
 have thought this speed faster than the wind, but 
 now it seemed as if he could not run, yet so swiftly 
 he flew that trees and bushes fled from him and 
 went backward, and he seemed to be standing still. 
 He ran through thickets, through the tangled grass, 
 through the water in the bayous, leaped over fallen 
 trees, ran thus for miles, but never grew tired, for 
 ever behind him and spurring him on was the voice 
 of the Good Spirit in his ears, saying, To the ford ! 
 To the ford ! To save your brother ! Then as he 
 neared the ford he heard the voice of the Gray- 
 beard, and swift as the frightened deer he hurried 
 on, when in the bend he saw his brother in the 
 water. Like the beast maddened when she finds 
 her cub in danger, Manulito seemed not to touch 
 the ground, and when the buck thought he had 
 the Gray Eagle in his power the rifle of Manulito 
 belched forth, and the bullet, guided by the good 
 Manitou, sank deep into the heart of the big buck, 
 and the prayer of Manulito was answered, for this 
 day he has in part paid the debt he owes his white 
 brother." 
 
 e 6* 
 
66 MANULITO. 
 
 " Paid in part !" yelled Kirtley to the Indian. 
 " Why, consarn it, what yer ve done for Bill ought 
 ter pay him all yer owe him, an I know Bill well 
 nough ter know thet arter this day s work, an the 
 way yer saved his life, he will give yer a receipt in 
 full fur ev rything yer owe him. Ef he don t, 
 why, I ll be durned ef I won t pay the balance 
 myself. Nother thing, Manulito : now, yer know I 
 ain t got any love fur an Injun, nor never had, but 
 no white man could hev done hisself prouder than 
 yer did yourself ter-day. An when the time comes 
 when you air goin ter be tried fur murder, or 
 what s wuss, hoss-stealin , ef Bill don t defend yer 
 free gratis fur nothin , an get yer clar, an save your 
 good character, don t make no difference whether 
 yer be guilty or not, he ain t the man an lawyer 
 thet I know he is." 
 
 "Wellington replied, "Any obligations Manulito 
 owed me are more than cancelled ; he knows it, 
 you know it. There are times," he said, as his 
 voice grew husky with emotion, " when words fail 
 to express a man s feelings, and the heart leaves its 
 hiding and fills his throat so that he cannot speak. 
 I do not know that life is any sweeter to me than 
 to any one else, indeed, I did not know how sweet 
 it was until now that I have so nearly lost it. 
 Manulito has renewed it for me, restored it to my 
 wife and children, and here, Kirtley, in your pres 
 ence, in the presence of my true friend, Manulito, 
 and in the presence of the ever-living God," and 
 
THE BATTLE IN THE RIVER. 67 
 
 he raised his eyes reverently to the vault of heaven, 
 " I promise this day will never be forgotten." 
 
 For a few moments each gazed intently into the 
 fire in deep thought. The Indian was first to 
 speak, and said, 
 
 " The sun is weary of the day and will hide from 
 it. See ! he will soon sink behind the great elm- 
 trees. The birds rise in their evening flight, and 
 we must start for the home of my brother." 
 
 They hung the huge animal to a tree to keep 
 the wolves from it, and, arranging that Kirtley 
 should go after it on the morrow, they started on 
 their homeward trip. 
 
 As the twilight deepened, they bade " Good 
 night" to Mrs. Kirtley, after they had partaken of 
 the generous meal which she had offered them. 
 When they parted at the door the moon had risen 
 and was shedding the softest light on all the sur 
 roundings. Kirtley followed them to the wagon- 
 road. He had left his hat at the house, and his 
 gray hair shone like frosted silver in the mellow 
 light. As they parted, he took Wellington s hand 
 in both of his, and said, 
 
 " Lawd, Bill, but I m glad it came out right, an* 
 ter-morrer yer ll see me in the village in the morn- 
 in . Watch fur us, me an the oxen an the buck ! 
 I would bring the ole woman too, but yer know 
 how tis, wimmen hes their places, an a woman 
 hes no business round when her husband is cele- 
 bratin . Celebratin ?" said he, as he roared and 
 
68 MANVL1TO. 
 
 slapped his leg at the thought of it. " Why, hoys, 
 the whole village ain t goin ter be none too big fur 
 me when me an the big buck comes ter town." 
 
 The moon had ascended high into the dome of 
 the sky, and the two hunters were walking side by 
 side. At first, as was his wont, the Indian led, 
 "Wellington following in his trail, but soon they 
 walked together. The night was clear ; the stars 
 shone feebly, paled by the brighter moon, and the 
 frost glittered on the bushes and blades of grass. 
 A contented silence fell on both men as they 
 thought over the events of the departed day. 
 
 As they walked along in close proximity, Wel 
 lington s hand dropped to his side, and as it did, it 
 touched his companion s. They spoke not, but a 
 gentle pressure, such as a woman confidingly gives 
 to the man she loves, passed between them, and as 
 they looked in one another s faces their eyes shone 
 with a love more than fraternal, and the silent 
 moon brightened the scene and witnessed their 
 secret pledge of life-long friendship. 
 
 Next morning, before break of day, Kirtley was 
 astir ; and, having breakfasted and fed his oxen, he 
 pulled his coon-skin cap well over his ears, drew 
 tighter the belt which encircled his waist, yoked 
 his oxen to the wagon, and started for the settle 
 ment. 
 
 The stars were glittering and the day seemed far 
 off, but the still, frosty air of the morning carried 
 for miles the " creak, creak" of the wagon and the 
 
THE BATTLE IN THE RIVER. 69 
 
 cheery tones of Kirtley as he encouraged the team. 
 Now and then he glanced into the wagon where 
 the huge buck lay quiet in death, and then he 
 would break out into spasmodic speeches, exclaim 
 ing, 
 
 " Well, I declar ter goodness, but thet wuz a 
 close shave fur Bill ! An ef it hadn t ben fur me 
 an the Injun, there s no tellin whar Bill wud be 
 now, perhaps tryin lawsuits in the Ian of Canaan 
 or sum other furrin country. 
 
 " Cours , cours ," he continued, " I didn t do ez 
 much ez the Injun in one sense ; but at the same 
 time, ef the praayers uv an old sinner mounted to 
 much, then I did a heap o good, fur, stretch my 
 gallus ef I didn t pray powerful hard thet the 
 Lawd or sum un wud step in an help Bill outeii 
 thet scrape. Cours , I wuz kinder mix-cumfuddled 
 an sufterin with nervous prostrashun, an didn t 
 know jes wot ter say, or how ter go at it ter 
 make a praayer, seein ez how I hevn t sed enny 
 
 fur a long time, so I sed Now I lay me down / 
 
 Then I kinder cum ter myself an tho t wot a fool 
 I wuz to think o layin down fur a minnit when 
 the buck wuz arter Bill. So I kinder shrugged my 
 shoulders, an sed, fast an loud, 1 Lawd, we 
 
 thank thee for the food . Then I cum ter myself 
 
 an tho t wot a fool I wuz ter be thankful fur 
 food, when the food wuz havin the bulge on my 
 best frien , an wuz liable ter make him food fur 
 fishes, mud-turtles, and sech-like reptiles. Talk 
 
70 MANULITO. 
 
 bout a man, when he s drownin , thinkin over all 
 his sins in a minnit! Why, I tho t uv mine in 
 half thet time, an I wuz jes goin ter try nother 
 praayer w en the Injun fired an sprang inter the 
 water ter save Bill. Then I jes drapped onter my 
 marrers, clasped my ban s together, jes ez yer see 
 innercent babies in the picters, an sed, Thank 
 the Lawd ! thank the Lawd ! 
 
 "I ll tell yer what, Jerry," continued he, ad 
 dressing his conversation to the ox nearest him, 
 " yer ain t human, yer can t talk, leastwise in our 
 language, but, et ther same time, yer all right, an 
 I ain t afeerd ter trust yer, cause ef yer don t agree 
 with me, at any rate yer won t mix-cumfuddle me 
 with dictionary wuds like sum uv em does in the 
 settlement. An wot I wuz goin ter say wuz this : 
 thet fine wuds be all right, butiful praayers in the 
 churches, but w en a man wants the Lawd s help in 
 downright airnest, wuds fail ter cum, an he sez, 
 * Lawd, save me ! An ef the Lawd concludes to 
 enter inter the contrac the man is saved, an his 
 thanks is given in mighty few wuds. Now, in 
 cours , ef I hed ben eddicated like Bill or the par- 
 sin at the settlement, I wud hev given thanks in 
 meny butiful wuds ; but, doncher know, Jerry, thet 
 I thinks the Lawd j edges by the man s heart, an 
 whether he means wot he sez. Ef he does mean 
 it, purty language don t count. An I feel sure my 
 thanks wuz ez ceptable ez if I hed sed em in the 
 butifulest wuds." 
 
THE BATTLE IN THE RIVER. 71 
 
 The day had commenced to break, and the gray 
 in the east was tinged here and there by the reflec 
 tion from the rising sun. Kirtley seemed in a 
 talkative mood, and, as the faithful oxen trudged 
 along, the old man patted his patient listener on 
 the shoulders, and continued : 
 
 " Yes, Jerry, fine wuds air nice to keep in stock ; 
 they air like fresh goods at the store : they air allus 
 pushed out whar they ll do most good ; but good, 
 plain wuds is wot I like. In cours , ez yer know, 
 I use thet kind. I admit, sometimes w en I want 
 ter be pertick ly mpressive, I use cuss wuds. But 
 then I m used ter it, an it don t do enny harm, an 
 ter me it surely does a heap uv good, fur it makes 
 the wuds before an arter the cuss wud pecoolarly 
 strong an mphatic. In cours , ef I was eddicated, 
 I don t s pose I wud swar, fur then I wud hev 
 wuds enough without rizzortin to perfanity. 
 
 " Bill sez I wud a make a good lawyer. Now, 
 Bill is a good frien uv mine, an he wudn t ten- 
 daily deceive me; but fur me ter be a lawyer? 
 No, thanks, Jerry. As they say in the settlement, 
 *I predate yer kind invertation, but pleas ; cept 
 my regrets. I ve seed a good deal o law, an Bill 
 will tell yer thet thar s hardly ever a lawsuit tried 
 less I am on hand, either as plaintiff or defendant ; 
 an ef thar is no chance fur me ez either, then I 
 make a mighty good juror. I tell you, Jerry, 
 what I ve seed in courts wud make a book, a whole 
 book with a supplement throwed in. Don t yer 
 
72 MANULITO. 
 
 remember wot Sampson said ter the Philistines? 
 Cours you don t. Well, he said, i Truth is mighty 
 and will pervail. Now, Jerry, tween you an 
 me, Sampson wuz off, clear off, though I want 
 tcr give him the benefit of ther doubt, an , ez the 
 lawyers sez, Will admit, fur the sake of ther argoo- 
 ment, thet wot the sed Sampson sed wuz true. But 
 I hev seed too much uv law ter be han-swaggled 
 inter believin that truth is mighty an will pervail. 
 It depen s. It depen s on the lawyer an the jury. 
 Give me a good lawyer an 7 a fat pocket-book, an a 
 day ter git quainted with the jury, an I m bettin 
 thet ther man thet sues me fur damages will hev 
 the costs ter pay. Perhaps I wud make a good 
 lawyer, Jerry," continued the old man, " an Bill 
 sez thet my eloquence wud carry me through the 
 jury. It may be so ! it may be so ! Et the same 
 time, I wud rather be plaintiff or defendant, an 
 let the jury carry me through." 
 
 As the old man rounded the bend, within a mile 
 of the village, he looked at the surrounding coun 
 try as if anticipating the approach of some one, 
 and, seeing no one, came to a halt, a proceeding 
 which was most acceptable to the patient oxen. 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 73 
 
 CHAPTEE VL 
 
 UNCLE RASTUS. 
 
 " There is in souls a sympathy with sounds, 
 And as the mind is pitch d, the ear is pleas d 
 "With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave ; 
 Some chord in unison with what we hear 
 Is touch d within us, and the heart replies." 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 " FUNNY !" exclaimed the old man. " Funny thet 
 ole Uncle Rastus don t show up. He surely got my 
 message ter meet me here, et ther curve in the 
 road, et sunrise, an bring with him Sweet Mar- 
 jorum, the sorrel hoss thet I bought in Lexin ton 
 nigh onter six months sence." 
 
 Then the old man chuckled, and took a fresh 
 chew of tobacco, as he muttered to himself, 
 
 "An won t they be supprised! Sent the ole 
 man home broke, las summer, did they? Well, 
 I m thinkin thet this day the tables will be turned, 
 an when the gentlemen from on the Mississipp 
 look fur Kirtley, they ll find him. Find him !" he 
 ejaculated. " An w en they do, the ole man will be 
 on top. I ain t got much ter bet, I ain t got much 
 ter bet," said Kirtley, as he laughingly patted his 
 pockets and exposed a belt which seemed filled 
 
74 MANUL1TO. 
 
 with coin. " Oh, no, I ain t got much ter bet. 
 I ll make it interestin fur some of em." 
 
 At this moment there trembled on the still, calm 
 air the mellow piping of the quail. The old man 
 answered the call, when, a short distance from him, 
 a rustle was heard in the dense hazel brush. As 
 the bushes parted, there was exposed a face so jolly 
 and so indicative of good nature that no one ever 
 gazed on it without being insensibly drawn towards 
 its owner. The face was black, with a fringe of 
 grizzly whiskers. A pair of spectacles resting on 
 the owner s nose seemed more for ornament than 
 for use, as he continually looked over their rim. 
 The head was covered with a hat of ancient origin, 
 which constant use had changed from a genteel 
 slouch to a cone-shape, one which successive sea 
 sons of constant wear had converted to its present 
 shape. Such was the first appearance of Uncle 
 Rastus, a negro universally beloved and respected. 
 As he saw Kirtley, his mouth opened, and while 
 the woods echoed with the melody of his laughter, 
 he exclaimed, 
 
 " Heigh-ho ! Brer Kirtley !" Then bowing and 
 touching his hat with genteel chivalry, he con 
 tinued ; " How yo is ? Whar yo ben dis long 
 come back ? Ah was heah sum time go, an lowed 
 yo d cum et sun-up. Den, Ah lowed dis niggah 
 bettah get little res , an w en Ah braced a saplin 
 wid m back en tuk one little snooze, Ah luked 
 up, en dar war de oxen, en , sho nuff, dar yo is 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 75 
 
 too. All s mighty glad ter see yo , Brer Kirtley, en 
 hopes yo en de missus am well." 
 
 " Come out, Rastus ! Come out !" exclaimed 
 Kirtley, " an bring the hoss. Seuse me, Rastus, 
 fur quotin Spokeshare, but I m feelin pertickly 
 good this mornin , an ef yer don t objec , I ll jes 
 say, as I ve heard Bill say, My hoss ! My hoss ! 
 My kingdom fur a hoss ! 
 
 At this the old man laughed immoderately, as 
 if it brought back pleasant recollections ; while 
 Uncle Rastus broke into an explosive guffaw that 
 would have set a crowd of boys wild with laughter. 
 
 " Heah yo is, boss ! Heah yo is !" he exclaimed, 
 as he placed the halter-strap into the hands of 
 Kirtley. " Heah is yo hoss, an a bettah hoss 
 nevah looked troo a bridle. Yo say, Brer Kirt- 
 ley, yo gibs yo kingdom fo a hoss. Don yo 
 do it, caus yo don hab ter. Dis yer animile, dis 
 yer Sweet Mahjorum dat yo has in yo possess n, 
 can t be beat. Ah tole yo ," continued Uncle 
 Rastus, "dat f um de fust time Ah sot eyes on 
 im e won dis yer ole h aht ob mine. He knows 
 so much, no nonsense bout im ! No rambunksh - 
 ness ! Jus ez gentle ez a lam , jus like a kitten. 
 Sides, Brer Kirtley, Ah s customed ter talk ter im 
 jus like e one ob de chillun, en e do what Ah 
 spec s ob him. Dat little pick ninny mine, dat 
 Eph, e en Sweet Mahjorum great frien s. Ebery 
 mawnin w en Eph go out en ride irn, e talk ter im 
 jus like e talk ter w ite folks, tel de hoss unde stan 
 
76 MANULITO. 
 
 all e say. Yest d y mawnin Ah tho t bes ter speed 
 de boss, e is nevah hit wid a gad, needah does we 
 use spuhs, en Eph, he ride im. Wen de hoss 
 cum nigh me, hit peared ter me ez ef hit wa n t no 
 hoss, but jus a sorrel ghost dat wuz goin lighter 
 an faster dan de win . Wen e pass me, Ah says 
 ter Eph, < Hi, dab! Let im out! At dat, Eph 
 ben s ober is neck, en de hoss go so fas Ah tink 
 sho im no hoss, jus shadder. Den, a terwuds, Ah 
 asks Eph, < Wha dat hoss go so fas pas me ? Him 
 say, * Sweet Mahjorum like sugah, an w en we pass 
 you, Eph whispah in eah, Run, Sweet Mahjorum, 
 run ! Hay in de mangah sugah on hay waitin 
 fo you. Den hoss run so fas dat Eph ha dly 
 keep in saddle." 
 
 Uncle Rastus was very demonstrative in his 
 manner, and added to it by frequent gesticulation ; 
 but Kirtley was a keen observer, and noticed with 
 pleasure the favorable reports as to the speed and 
 condition of his horse. The previous summer 
 Kirtley had been taken in by some professional 
 horsemen, and knowing that the same parties would 
 be present to-day and would try to repeat their 
 former successes, he had anticipated their coming, 
 and was prepared to entertain them. The fact of 
 his having this horse was kept secret, and only he, 
 Uncle Rastus, and the latter s son knew of its 
 presence. 
 
 Kirtley hitched the horse to the wagon, and 
 cautioning -Uncle Rastus as to what part he was 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 77 
 
 to take, bade him good-by for the time, telling 
 him to be on hand without fail at the hour agreed 
 on for the races. The speed of the horse was well 
 known to Kirtley, for he had seen it in many 
 private trials, but Uncle Kastus wanted to impress 
 on the owner s mind that Tie had developed the 
 speed, and that he could vouch for the horse s 
 ability to win. 
 
 As Eirtley started down the road, Uncle Rastus 
 took a northeasterly direction towards his home. 
 
 Uncle Rastus was a character, and he was of such 
 a disposition that the whole world was to him one 
 eternal source of enjoyment. The disappointments 
 that are constantly met with in life were lessons 
 which taught him, by contrast, to be thankful for 
 the benefits he enjoyed. When death overtook 
 some one he loved, his grief was of that explosive 
 kind which threatened to result fatally ; but after 
 abundant wringing of hands, copious shedding of 
 tears, and violent outbursts of sorrow, he always 
 returned to his normal state, which was one of 
 sweet contentment with his condition in life. As 
 he often said, 
 
 " Wha fo , chillun, sh d yo cry wid grief caus 
 de Lawd punishes yo ? Yo can t all us spec ter 
 eat widout de cook sometimes spilin de meat. 
 Don complain caus yo gits too much salt in 
 yo broth, but be t ankful dat de Lawd mits de 
 bees ter make honey, and yo knows whar de bee- 
 tree am." 
 
 7* 
 
78 MANVLITO. 
 
 His mind was full of odd sayings. He was always 
 ready to extend rough but touching words of sym 
 pathy to the afflicted, and never at a loss for wit 
 when repartee was essential to defend himself; 
 and the native humor with which he was known 
 to be always supplied warned his disputant that 
 a prompt reply would be forthcoming. 
 
 He was short and very stout, and he often re 
 marked that "if de Lawd had made him a little 
 biggah roun en a little sho tah, he would be no 
 good nohow." Then he would continue : 
 
 " But Ah s got no complaint comin , fo de wintah 
 has done got ter be ver cold w en mah ole bones 
 sufiah." 
 
 He was often asked where he came from, but his 
 answer was always evasive. 
 
 " Wha fo yer wan s ter know dat, honey ? Ah 
 low Ah s heah, en cum ter stay. De woodchuck, 
 en de possum, en de coon am in de woods. Wha 
 makes de diff unce whar dey cum f um ? G long, 
 now, don yo boddah yo noggin bout me. Ax 
 no quest ns en I ll tole yo no lies." 
 
 Then, seeing he had the best of his inquisitor, 
 he would break into a hearty " Yah ! yah !" which 
 would end in a sizzle between his teeth. 
 
 "When he first came to the settlement his worldly 
 possessions consisted of a pack on his back and his 
 clothes tied inside a huge red bandanna, while his 
 boy trudged at his heels. 
 
 He was constantly advising this boy about the 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 79 
 
 evils of the world, and especially those to be found 
 at the settlement. "Wellington had taken a fancy 
 to him, and had permitted him to erect a cabin on 
 a corner of the farm for himself and boy. Uncle 
 Rastus was a frequent visitor, in fact a daily one, at 
 the farm-house ; and he loved Mrs. Wellington and 
 her two children with a devotion which was almost 
 idolatry. 
 
 He did not know his age, and when asked would 
 reply, 
 
 " Wha, bress yo , honey, Ah can t confo m eny 
 def nit idee. Ah specs hit wuz a long time go 
 Ah wuz bawn, but Ah disremembah de time. But 
 Ah membah hit wuz a ter de Rev lutiona y wah. 
 Fac , mus ben a ter dat, caus Ah membah w en 
 jus big nuff ter fight flies in m lasses bar l, mah 
 mammy useter talk bout Washin ton en dose oder 
 ginerals w ich fit fo dis kentry." 
 
 Like all darkeys, he was passionately fond of 
 music, and scarcely a night passed that he and his 
 son, isolated in the little cabin, did not, with violin 
 and banjo, while the happy hours away. Uncle 
 Rastus had a voice which blended the flute-toned 
 harmony of the tenor with the mellowness of the 
 alto, while his boy inherited his mother s voice, a 
 voice of such singular purity and sweetness that it 
 thrilled through the listener, and when, moved as 
 if by inspiration, he raised his voice to the full 
 measure of its strength, the birds in the forest 
 caught its tones and softly twittered, as if fearing 
 
80 MANULITO. 
 
 to lose the notes of a voice far sweeter than their 
 own. 
 
 The hoy did not realize his great gift. He loved 
 to sing, hut he did not know the surpassing sweet 
 ness of his own music. As yet, his voice had not 
 changed, and was a perfect soprano. His father 
 forbade his singing for the men at the village, and 
 when any one remonstrated, saying that the boy 
 might earn pennies by his singing, the old man 
 would reply, 
 
 " Dis yer pickaninny longs ter me. Ah see im 
 git clo es ter weah ; de Lawd en Mars "Wellin ton 
 fu nish de meat, en de yarth fu nish de bread. Ah 
 low we git long all right widout mah boy sin gin 
 fe men who don preciate. Sides," continued 
 Uncle Rastus, " w en yo -uns is sick, or yo -uns s 
 frien s, or et de chu ch on Sunday, den yo heahs 
 mah boy." 
 
 The night before the day of the races, Uncle 
 Rastus and his boy had finished supper, the dishes 
 were washed, and the old man sat in the gloaming 
 smoking his pipe. The little log cabin presented a 
 weird aspect. It seemed almost devoid of furni 
 ture, there being only a bedstead, two chairs, and 
 a rough pine table. The fire in the fireplace had 
 died down to steady coals. The old man was in 
 deep thought. Suddenly he raised his head, and, 
 turning to the boy, said, 
 
 " Honey, Ah low dat fiah am gittin low. Put on 
 some dem hick ry knots en punch dem coals mo ." 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 81 
 
 The boy did as requested, then picked up a book 
 and began reading by the bright light of the fire. 
 Uncle Rastus watched him with pleased intentness 
 for a few moments, then said, 
 
 " Strikes me, honey, yo is consid ably abstracted 
 in de p rusal ob dat book. Am jus cu us miff ter 
 ax yo wot am de subjec w ich peahs to prognos 
 ticate yo tention." 
 
 The boy closed the book, and said, 
 
 " Robinson Crusoe." 
 
 " Golly !" ejaculated the old man. " Dat am a 
 great book, sho nuff. Missus read dat book ter 
 me yeahs en yeahs ago, fo yo wuz bawned. Ah 
 tink dat Cruiser great man. He kin ob a harmit ; 
 but de Lawd wuz wid im, honey, de Lawd wuz 
 wid im, en in all is trials en tribullations de 
 Lawd didn t go back on im, but bided wid im. 
 "We kinder Cruisers, don yo t ink so, Eph ? Only 
 but our dog en our cat done gone en died. But, 
 honey," continued the old man, as he laid his 
 hands affectionately on the boy s head, " Ah bress 
 de good Lawd dat yo is spa ed ter me, fo ef de 
 Lawd done gone en tuk yo f um me, sho as dere 
 is gaito s in de Alabam , Ah would pray ev y day 
 dat Gabr l would blow his hawn, fo , sho nuff, 
 Ah wouldn t wanter lib no mo . But, Eph, Ah 
 feel kind o lonesome dis ebenin ; don offun feel 
 dat way, leastwise don show it. An dat s wot yo 
 will fin ez yo grow oldah, dat de man who is allus 
 tellin how bad e feels w en e loses is wife, isn t 
 
82 MANULITO. 
 
 de man who suffahs de mos . Shaller watah make 
 big noise, but de deep watah, e keep quiet, S pose 
 yo git out de fiddle en yo banjo, en let s hav 
 some music." 
 
 Eph did as he was told, but the melancholy feel 
 ing which seemed to have control of Uncle Rastus 
 had not touched the boy, for he gave a peculiar 
 sliding motion, which ended in the merriest kind 
 of a jig. He looked knowingly and pleadingly 
 at the old man, begging with his eyes for what 
 he wanted, viz., an accompaniment with clapped 
 hands and a perfect beat of the foot. Uncle Ras 
 tus shook his head sorrowfully, and said, 
 
 " No ! no ! honey ! Yo is titled ter hit, sho , but 
 mah h aht don crave fo dat kin ob music ter- 
 night, en Ah don want ter do wot mah h aht 
 don gree ter." 
 
 As the boy seated himself, he handed the violin 
 to his father, and continued to tinkle on the banjo, 
 humming a jig to himself. Uncle Rastus, by reason 
 of the discord of the sounds, was unable to tune his 
 instrument ; and at last, out of patience, he laid the 
 violin across his knee and looked at the boy in dis 
 gust. Eph saw his error, and made haste to apolo 
 gize, but he was speedily interrupted by the old 
 man, who said, 
 
 "Yo , dar, Ephrum ! Wha yo done gone en 
 chuned yo banjo all de time w en Ah wuz tryin* 
 ter make de connection tween mah A en E string. 
 Yo knows f um prev us xperiunce dat dar is 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 83 
 
 nothin wot miscomposes me HIO den dat same 
 t ing. Now, ef yo t ink Ah m bleeged ter s bmit 
 ter dis novation ter de rules ob dis house, Ah stan 
 c rect d." 
 
 The boy showed his repentance in his looks. He 
 also saw the forgiveness accorded him, for his 
 father gave him the fond smile he anticipated and 
 loved so well. They played together, the father 
 leading, the son sustaining him with a brilliant 
 accompaniment ; but tiring of instrumental music, 
 Uncle Rastus nodded to Eph, and they sang, their 
 voices blending with the harmony derived from 
 practice and natural sweetness, 
 
 " Oh, whar sh ll we go w en de great day comes, 
 Wid de blowin ob de trumpets en de bangin ob de drums ? 
 How many po sinners 11 be kotched out late, 
 En fin no latch ter de golden gate ? 
 
 " No use fo ter wait twel ter-morrer ! 
 De sun mus n t set on yer sorrer, 
 Sins ez sharp ez a bamboo-brier. 
 Oh, Lawd ! fetch de mo ners up higher." 
 
 "Dat s true, Eph! Dat s true!" exclaimed 
 Uncle Kastus, " De great ques n ob de day am, 
 * Whar shall we go w en de great day cums ? Ah 
 low whar we go depen s on wot we do yer, an 
 Ah want yo not ter sociate wid po w ite trash, 
 fo now dat Ah toles yo ob de or gin ob de cullud 
 race, yo 11 bress de Lawd dat yo wuz bawned 
 black. Jus lis en en Ah 11 tell yo de story ob 
 
84 MANUL1TO. 
 
 de or gin ob de cullud race. Yo* unnerstan , 
 honey/ continued Uncle Rastus, as he turned, 
 sitting corner-wise on his chair, and throwing his 
 left arm over the back of it for better support and 
 to obtain a nonchalant position, " yo unnerstan s 
 dat de story ob de or gin ob de cullud race ain t 
 ter be foun in books, but hab cum down f um giner- 
 ation to gineration, passin f um fadder ter son, 
 an Ah gibs hit ter yo ez hit wuz done tole me 
 yaars en yaars ergo. Dar am no disputin de troof 
 ob it, caus Ah pussn ly knowed er man mo n 
 er hundred yaars ole, who hed kep trac ob de 
 cullud race, en e wuz willin ter swar ter hits 
 troof. 
 
 " En in ordah ter gib de whole story, Ah mus* 
 ax yer tenshun, en ax yer ter trabble back wif me 
 ter de beginnin ob de wuld, leastwise nigh onter 
 hit. Ez yer will know, in dem times dere wuz a 
 flood. Dis yer flood wuz bro t bout by de cussed- 
 ness ob de peeple. De Lawd, he commodated dem 
 in great meny ways, but dey didn t preciate hit, 
 en all wuz kinder coltish en didn t seem ter t ink 
 dat sum day dey mout be punished. Co se, dey 
 wuz too big ter be whipped like chillun. Sides, 
 de Lawd wuz busy rangin t ings so ez ter get de 
 wuld runnin smood en right, en a ter dey hed 
 run long, en kep gettin sassier en sassier, de 
 Lawd done grown tired sech foolishness, en he 
 sen fo a gemmun by de name ob Noah. F um 
 wot Ah heah tell ob dis man Noah, de Lawd make 
 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 85 
 
 good s lection. So de Lawd say ter Noah, < Noah, 
 Ah s done been tired ob dis rambunksh ness ob dese 
 peeple. Dey is too big ter get a ter wid a bar l- 
 stave, en de eo se ob de law am too slow. Ah 
 has eluded ter sen a shower ter dis yarth, dat 11 
 stonish dem all. Yo am all right ; Ah got nuffin 
 gin yo . All dis time Noah ain t sayin nuffin , 
 jus keep still an lis en. So de Lawd direc Noah 
 ter buil er house, en yo knows, honey, de Bible 
 sez hit wuz a yark. So de Lawd tol Brer Noah 
 wha ter fin de wood, who ter hire ter buil de yark, 
 en gib im sp ific d recshuns, so dar can be no 
 m stake. But yo knows, Ephrum, all bout dat, 
 an yo hab read in yo Bible Brer Noah wuz a 
 little slow in buil in de yark. But de Lawd wuz 
 pashun , en sed, Peg long, Brer Noah ! Peg 
 long ! Yo is doin all right. Ah low dere won t 
 be eny rain twel yo is reddy. So las de yark wuz 
 done, en Brer Noah announc dat fac . Now, 
 lots ob dese yer smart fellers laff et Brer Noah, en 
 loaf roun de yark en made remarks. Hi dah ! 
 Brer Noah! Wot yo goin ter do wid dat big 
 boat on dry Ian ? Brer Noah e ain t sayin 
 nuffin , jus keep on en min is bizness. At las , 
 on Chuseday, all wuz ready, Brer Noah hed eb ry- 
 t ing in de yark, all de fambly, de fowls, de snakes, 
 en de animiles, jus ez de Lawd d rected. Den hit 
 menced ter sprinkle. Hit hedn t rained fo long 
 time, so de peeple outside de yark de onb leebers 
 menced ter laff en say, Dis am de boss wedder ! 
 
 8 
 
86 MANULITO. 
 
 jus de t ing fo de cawn! But Brer Noah e in 
 yark, e ain t sayin nuffin , but keep up big 
 t inkin ." 
 
 At this time, the boy who had waited patiently 
 for some clue that would lead him to think that 
 his father was going to disclose what he had 
 promised, remarked, 
 
 " Scuse me, daddy, but wot s dis ter do wid de 
 or gin ob de cullud race ?" 
 
 The old man straightened back in his chair, ap 
 parently much hurt at the interruption, and feel 
 ingly responded, 
 
 " Pashuns am a jule, en Ah s sorry dat a son ob 
 mine should interrup is po ole dad, w en de dad 
 am relatin an ebent w ich is ob de greates im- 
 portans. Ah s too ole ter talk nonsense, en w en 
 Ah talks ter yo , allus b ar in min dat de ole man 
 am all right, en dat de ruffes kernel kivers de 
 sweetes meat ob de nut. Yo knows, yo does, dat 
 de harder tis fo yo ter get de sugah f um de bar l, 
 de sweeter tis fo yo w en yo does get it." 
 
 Then looking into the fire as if to collect his 
 scattered thoughts, he took his spectacles from his 
 nose, wiped them with his handkerchief, returned 
 them to their former position, and said, "Jee- 
 himiny ! how hit did rain ! Sho nuff, honey, hit 
 cum down so fas dat cawn crap all sp ilt; eb ry- 
 t ing ruined, en de yarth couldn t soak up all de 
 water. Whoo ! what a lot ob water ! Eb rybody 
 drowned outside de yark. Noah den see im all 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 87 
 
 right. Hit rained fo ty days en fo ty nights, in- 
 cludin Fourt ob July. Noah kinder hated dis, 
 cause e wanted ter entertain de folks wid fiah- 
 wu ks. Now !" exclaimed the old man, " now, 
 yo soon heah de or gin ob de cullud race. Ter be 
 sho , fo ty days en fo ty nights am a long time, 
 en de folks in de yark got kinder lonesum -like, 
 dey didn t hev cards in dem days, so de men 
 ha dly knew wot ter do ebenin s, en de ladies, 
 dey couldn t git out ter see de lates styles, so dey 
 wuz handicapt on suthin ter talk erbout. Co se, 
 dey talked about de wedder, dar wuz plenty ob 
 dat, but ez Missus Noah sed ter her dawter, Dis 
 yer wedder is so hor bly hor ble dat Ah low we 
 bettah not mention hit. Den de dawter she reply, 
 Yes, ma, Ah t ink hit miser bly miser ble, en an 
 orful damp rain. But one ebenin now, keep yo 
 eyes en years op n, fo wot Ah toles yo will run yo 
 bang up g in er big supprise, one ebenin , w en 
 dey wuz studyin de al-manacks ter see w en dere 
 would be a change in de wedder, dey heerd a 
 scratchin at de fron do , en w en Miss Noah ope d 
 de do in walked a Coon, jus ez big ez life. E 
 didn t say nuffin , jus looked roun de room, den 
 seated hisse f neah de fiah en looked inter de blaze 
 kinder stracted-like, ez ef e had suthin on is min . 
 Keckon de dampness hed caused im ter ketch col , 
 cause e sneezed; den e didn t say nuffin , but 
 looked kinder pology-like et de ladies, en wiped 
 his mouf wid is tail. Dis yer proceedin wuz 
 
88 MANULITO. 
 
 kep up eb ry ebenin , twel de ladies allus sent der 
 brudder Sam a ter de Coon ef e didn t show up 
 eb ry ebenin . Dey all lowed dat Coon wuz de 
 smartes animile dey eber seed, en dey reckon d 
 dey hed seed em all. Dey wuz great frien s, dem 
 ladies en de Coon, en de Coon got so family us- 
 like, dat e don make no hesitashun bout gettin 
 on de ladies laps en lettin dem pet im. De 
 ladies done grown ver fon ob im. Las , de rain 
 all quit, de dove sent out, en de yark landed on 
 de mounting. Golly ! but eb rybody wuz glad ter 
 set foot ergin on de Ian . Po chillun, dey housed 
 up so long dey almos wild, en run barefoot en 
 holler like young Injuns. 
 
 " On de fourt day, a ter t ings wuz kinder gettin 
 strai t n d roun , a angel cum f urn de Lawd, en 
 a ter e sed Howdy! ter Noah en de res , he 
 axed Noah fo a private confab. Noah wuzn t 
 feared, cause e hedn t done gone done nuffin ter 
 be feared ob. A ter dey hed cum out, en de angel 
 hed gone, de women-folks wuz cu us, en dey lowed 
 dey oughter know w at dey wuz talkin bout. But 
 Noah done sed nuffin cept, Wait en see ! Wait 
 en see ! Ah has de powah. Den de ladies wuz 
 mo cu us den befo . But Noah, e felt sho im 
 hed de powah. Sho nuff e did, en dat day, jus 
 in de dusk ob de ebenin , w en de screech-owls 
 wuz hootin in de woods en de ffah-flies wuz 
 twinklin in de lowlands, Noah called is family ter- 
 gedder, en all de peeples wot wuz saved, en sed, 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 89 
 
 " < My frien s, way off f urn heah dar is a Ian 
 whar de sun allus shine wa m. De Lawd wants 
 ter pop late dat Ian . We can t span eny ob yo -uns, 
 but Ah has de powah ter transmoggerfy one ob dese 
 animiles inter a pusson, an am now goin ter done 
 gone en do it. Ah ax yo ter choose de animile. 
 
 " Den dey choosed, sum de Elephantus, sum de 
 Hippuspot mus, sum de Girasticutus, w ile one ob 
 
 de ladies chose de Mouse; but Miss Miss " 
 
 and the old man scratched his head and tried to 
 
 recall the name, "Miss Wall, Ah clar t 
 
 goodness but dat name hab scaped de mashes ob 
 mah mem ry ; but enyway, she wuz de fav rit dawter 
 of Brer Noah, en w en hit cum her turn, she 
 walk out en say, sez she, 
 
 " Ah choose de Coon ; de Coon am mah 
 choice. 
 
 " Den dere wuz a great clappin ob ban s, en de 
 young fellers dat wuz votin fo de Hippuspot mus 
 en de Girasticutus couldn t tumble over fas miff 
 in changin der votes. Cause yo see dey wanted 
 ter shine in de eyes ob Miss Noah, fo her pa wuz 
 de big man, en dese young fellers wuz willin ter 
 stan in wid im. 
 
 " En 7 now," exclaimed Uncle Rastus, " we cum 
 ter de great xhib shun ob de powah. Dey fo rned 
 a circl , en one ob de men e bro t de Coon, led 
 im wid a chain. Dey took de chain off, but 
 couldn t get de collah off, so Noah lowed hit 
 wouldn t mak eny diff runce, en de cer mony 
 
 8* 
 
90 MANULITO. 
 
 perceeded. Den sez Noah, sez he, Ah s goin 
 ter transmoggerfy dis animile, dis yer Coon, inter 
 a man. Whoo ! Golly ! Jus magine how dey 
 took dat! De Coon, he don unnerstan dat big 
 wud, im don say nuffin . 
 
 " Den Brer Noah, he continue : Wen dis Coon 
 cum a man, e be hones , full er fun, po but allus 
 contented. Den im say, l Conten men better n 
 great riches. Reckon dat so, honey. Suthin in 
 dat, sho ! Den de Coon e look at Brer Noah, 
 en Brer Noah im look at de Coon; Den Brer 
 Noah, e rub is han s tergedder, pull up is sleebes, 
 don say nuffin but jus mesm rize de Coon. 
 Den de Coon lay down en trem l, eb rybody look 
 on in stonishmen . Den de Coon move. Whoa, 
 dah ! Jiminy ! Now wuz de powah showed, fo 
 de Coon changed, en grew en grew, twel Coon 
 all gone, en dere stood big brack man. Den 
 eb rybody hoorah. Jus den Brer Noah say, 
 
 " Yo mus now go ter dat fa -off Ian en raise 
 cotton, cawn, en watermillyuns. Yo ah race sh ll 
 be bless d, but yo will allers hev ter wu k ha d. 
 
 "Den dere wuz a whizzin in de aih, en two 
 bosses, w ite ez snow, wid a kerridge ob gold, cum 
 fum de sky; en a ter dis brack man hed shook 
 han s all roun e jumped inter de kerridge, de 
 bosses sta ted tru de aih, w ile de light dat followed 
 de man wuz jus like sho -nuff fiahwu ks. De 
 bosses flew en flew fo free days en nights, en 
 brack man sleep mos de time. Las e wake, en 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 91 
 
 fin hisse f in de wa m kentry, whar wuz dates, en 
 palms, en b nanas. He stay dere en raise large 
 fambly. Eb ry yaar, w en de watermillyuns wuz 
 ripe, he wish ole man Noah en his chillun d cum 
 en see im ; but Ah s pec s Noah wuz ver busy, fo 
 he nebber cum ter see im. 
 
 "But," continued the old man, sorrowfully, 
 "too bad! too bad! dat dey didn git de collah 
 off de Coon, fo up ter dis time de po man am 
 strugglin wid hit roun is neck. But Ah b leebe, 
 honey, dat de day 11 cum w en de yoke 11 be cas off. 
 De Lawd knows Ah prays fo dat time ter cum. De 
 po w ite trash hab heerd suthin ob dis story, en 
 sometimes Ah m bleeged ter t ink dat is w y dey 
 calls us Coons." 
 
 The boy had listened intently until his father fin 
 ished, then said, 
 
 " Sho ly yo don b leeb all dat story?" 
 
 The old man looked thoughtfully at the fire, then 
 replied, 
 
 "Wha, honey, Ah m bleeged ter b leeb mos 
 ob hit, but, in co se, de zact languidge Ah can t 
 vouch fo , kase dis done happen long time ergo. 
 
 Sides Law bress yo , honey, is yo sleepy? 
 
 Ter be sho yo is. Ah see dem blin s is droopin 
 ober de eyeballs, but hoi out li l long r, honey, 
 till we finish de music." 
 
 After Uncle Rastus had finished his story, he 
 played " Money Musk," the " Arkansaw Traveller," 
 and other familiar songs, but instrumental music 
 
92 MANULITO. 
 
 did not touch a responsive chord in his heart. He 
 tried to banish from his mind the melancholy which 
 seemed to have control of him. He thought that 
 bright, catchy music would cheer him up, but it 
 was of no avail. Then he said to his boy, 
 
 " Honey, mah life dis night is like de onwelcum 
 cloud in de cl ar sky ; w atsumever Ah does don 
 cheer me up, but Ah jus kinder feel ez ef Ah 
 would like ter be way down Souf dis night. Mah 
 h aht am dere, en mah t oughts am too. Get dat 
 noo piece ob moosic dat Mars Wellington bro t us 
 f om de city ; mayhaps dat ll char me up." 
 
 The boy got the music, and they sang together, 
 
 " Way down upon de Swanee Ribber, 
 
 Far, far away, 
 Dere s whar mah heart is turning ebber, 
 
 Dere s whar de ole folks stay. 
 All up and down de whole creation 
 
 Sadly I roam, 
 
 Still longing for de ole plantation 
 And for de ole folks at home. 
 
 All de world am sad an dreary 
 
 Eb ry where I roam, 
 
 Oh ! darkies, how my heart grows weary, 
 Far from de ole folks at home." 
 
 After they had repeated the chorus in subdued 
 tones, Uncle Rastus exclaimed, 
 
 " Oh, Ephrum ! yo sings de notes an de wu ds, 
 but yo young h aht don compr hend de meanin 
 ob all dis. Ah hab been dere, en now Ah knows 
 de way back ; mah h aht tells me ter go. Ah knows 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 93 
 
 wha, mail nmdder, mail fadder, en mah po wife is 
 buried, but Ah dassn t go back. Eb ry night w en 
 de gloamin comes on Ah magines Ah heah de 
 mockin -bu d singin en de ole folks callin . De 
 Lawd knows, dat ef Ah is brack, Ah has senses, 
 en feelin s, en a big h aht dat sumtimes cums up 
 in mah t roat, but de tears cums an sabes me f um 
 dyin wid a broken h aht. En what de song say ? 
 6 All de world am sad en dreary eb rywhere Ah 
 roam. Dat s jus de way Ah feel, en Ah is t ank- 
 fu dat de cu us can t tell f um mah face de sorrer 
 ob mah h aht." And the old man wiped the tears 
 from his eyes, and used his handkerchief vigorously, 
 remarking, " Pears ter me dat Ah done cotch col ." 
 Continuing his conversation, he said, " Le s sing de 
 las vuss; en put yo cap dastrophe on yer banjo, 
 en Ah will put mah knife ober de bridge ob mah 
 fiddle en pick de strings. En now sing de las vuss 
 sof and low." 
 
 They did so, this arrangement of their instru 
 ments subduing the tones and giving a tinkling 
 melody that was peculiarly pleasant, and with their 
 sympathetic accompaniment they sang, 
 
 " One little hut among de "bushes, 
 
 One dat I love, 
 Still sadly to my mem ry rushes, 
 
 No matter where I roam. 
 "When will I see de bees a-hummin 
 
 All round de comb ? 
 When will I hear de banjo tummin 
 
 Down in my good ole home ? 
 
94 MANULITO. 
 
 All de world am sad an dreary 
 
 Eb ry where I roam, 
 Oh 1 darkies, how my heart grows weary, 
 
 Far from de ole folks at home." 
 
 The boy sang with the sweetness he always com 
 manded, but Uncle Rastiis was affected to tears, 
 for the words carried him back to scenes realisti 
 cally sad. He longed for comfort, he craved for 
 words of sympathy, and with trembling voice said 
 to his boy, 
 
 " No use, Eph ! no use ! The speerit don move 
 me, en Ah can t half sing. Yo sing su thin , 
 honey ! Sing su thin, su thin yo t inks will cheer 
 up yo ole daddy." 
 
 The boy touched a few introductory chords, then 
 his voice floated softly through the room and out 
 into the still calm air. Each word and line added 
 to the intensity of his feelings, and the sentiment 
 of the artist within him took possession of his soul, 
 and the mellow tones glided through the air chased 
 by the trillings of his bird-like voice. 
 
 The old man laid aside his instrument and seated 
 himself on the bed. The words of the song, de 
 scriptive of plantation life, picturing the negroes 
 in the cotton-field, the shocking of the corn, the 
 gala-day, the barbecue, the dance by moonlight at 
 the river, the master s death, all this recalled to 
 Uncle Rastus his early life. The boy, as if en 
 tranced, heeded not the old man, who, carried back 
 to those early times, ejaculated, 
 
UNCLE RASTUS. 95 
 
 "Yes, honey, dat so! Ah sees hit all ergin. 
 Bress de Lawd fo dis !" And sitting there on the 
 bed, he clasped his hands and gazed upward. 
 
 The boy sang on, his accompaniment blending 
 in perfect change and shading with his voice. The 
 old man swayed to and fro. At last the boy sang 
 with surpassing sweetness, in tones that seemed 
 those of a voice from heaven, 
 
 " Pity him, Lawd ! a po ole man I 
 Sustain him, Lawd ! Oh, you can I 
 He s good en kin . So are yo I 
 Cheer him, Lawd ! Carry him t roV 
 
 "Bress de Lawd!" cried the old man, "bress 
 de Lawd fo leavin me dis boy !" 
 
 Then Eph changed his theme, and softly sang of 
 early days, when in the sunny South a dusky youth 
 and maiden were wed. He described the rejoicing 
 over the birth of a child, the long sickness of the 
 mother, her death, the flight, until to Uncle Ras- 
 tus the voice seemed as the voice of his wife from 
 heaven, and, burying his face in his hands, he fell 
 back on the bed and sobbed, and, sobbing, fell 
 asleep. 
 
 The boy kissed the old man s hand, and, gazing 
 musingly into the fire, said, 
 
 " Ah nevah seed mah muddah, but w en Ah sang 
 hit seemed ter me dat she wuz neah me, en tole 
 me wot ter say, en Ah hopes she heerd me, fo Ah 
 done de bes Ah could." 
 
96 MANULITO. 
 
 CHAPTER YIL 
 
 MB. THOMPSON AND HIS HORSE. 
 
 " If we do but watch the hour, 
 There never yet was human power 
 "Which could evade, if unforgiven, 
 The patient search and vigil long 
 Of him who treasures up a wrong." 
 
 BYROIT. 
 
 WHEN Kirtley left the old darky, he proceeded 
 leisurely towards the village, a mode of progress 
 which was a necessity as well as a pleasure, for the 
 oxen swung along in that slow, peculiar gait that 
 is essentially of their kind. It fitted well the con 
 dition of Kirtley s mind, for he was in that state 
 of contentment that made him not only satisfied 
 with the present, but happy in the anticipation of 
 the events which he knew would transpire during 
 the day. 
 
 A village where the inhabitants have their own 
 world, living, one might say, within themselves; 
 where each knows the daily life of the other ; where 
 sectional jealousies do not exist; where secrets are 
 almost an impossibility; this was the kind of a 
 place to which Kirtley was going, a village where 
 he knew personally every man, woman, and child. 
 
MR. THOMPSON AND HIS HORSE. 97 
 
 This day lie knew would be one of constant excite 
 ment and pleasure, the inhabitants vying one with 
 the other to make fun follow fast on the heels of 
 frolic ; the men arranging the programme of sports, 
 while the women supplied the inner man with both 
 substantial and delicacies. 
 
 Surely the day was propitious, for as the sun rose 
 the sky was not flecked or marred by a solitary 
 cloud. As the day advanced the generous promises 
 of the morning were more than fulfilled, for under 
 the genial rays of the advancing sun the glittering 
 frost disappeared and the air was as soft and balmy 
 as in spring. 
 
 Kirtley appreciated the day, not in an idealistic 
 way, he was too practical for that, but his admi 
 ration of its perfection was awakened because he 
 saw in it an ideal occasion for the enjoyment of 
 out-of-door sports. 
 
 The still morning air echoed again and again 
 with the cracking of his whip. Kirtley was an ex 
 pert in its use, and the long lash unfolded itself at 
 frequent intervals over the heads of the oxen, then 
 shot straight out, and a report followed like the 
 explosion of a pistol. The oxen were accustomed 
 to this diversion of their master, and, although 
 they saw the lash circling and unwreathing itself 
 above their heads, and heard the startling report 
 w T hich always followed, they never winced, but 
 swung along in patient resignation. The horse, 
 also, divined the intent of the driver, and after a 
 g 9 
 
98 MANULITO. 
 
 sudden start and spring at the first crack of the 
 whip, followed with the gentlest docility at the end 
 of the wagon. 
 
 As Kirtley tramped along, amusing himself by 
 swinging the long lash, then darting it out, snap 
 ping off the tops of weeds with unerring precision, 
 he remarked, 
 
 " Wall ! wall ! But this is a perfect day, an ef 
 the boys et the village hev made up the right kind 
 ov a program, an Bill an the Injun shoot, ez I 
 knows they will, an this hoss does wot I knows 
 he orter, an the boys come from all round, ez 
 they allus does, an they wind up with a dance at 
 the tavern, then" and he nodded his head ap 
 provingly and tried to suppress a laugh, which 
 ended in a snort "then I am inclined ter think 
 thet the sun never shined on a day whar they hed 
 ez much fun ter the squar inch ez we will see ter- 
 day. But, Jerry," and he directed his attention to 
 his dumb listener, " w en we go home you ll be a 
 member of a surprise-party. I ll be thar, too, old 
 boy," and he looked around; then, as if satisfied 
 that there were no other listeners, continued, confi 
 dentially, "the surprise be this," and he closed 
 his lips in firm determination, " I m not goin ter 
 drink a drop ter-day. I know I hev promised this 
 same thing afore, an you hev seed thet I got home 
 safe an sound ; but ter-day," and he slapped his 
 chest approvingly, " ter-day strong drink an I is 
 strangers. Licker is all right fur sprains, bruises, 
 
MR. THOMPSON AND HIS HORSE. 99 
 
 an rheumatiz , all right ter get up a man s courage 
 w en he wants ter fight, but ter-day licker an I 
 can t hitch. I jes inten keepin away from him, 
 cause we like one nother too well, an we allus 
 agree too well, so well thet I allus give in an don t 
 remember jes wot the argooment wuz bout til 
 the next day, w en my head aches so I can t think, 
 an the ole woman sez thet I hev been makin a 
 fool ov myself, w ich, knowin she is a truthful 
 woman, I admit. No use sputin with a woman, 
 Jerry, specially ef yer knows she is right. But 
 with the fellers thet I know will be at the village 
 I ve an old score ter settle, an I m goin ter do it, 
 else I ll be a mighty poor man w en the sun goes 
 
 down ter-night. But " and he stopped, as if 
 
 something of vital interest had suddenly confronted 
 him. Then, as if satisfied it could not be, he 
 snapped his fingers impatiently, and said, 
 
 "No! no! I won t think it! I ve no reason 
 ter think so. Uncle Rastus hes allus been true ter 
 me, so hes the boy, an w en they see how much 
 I am bettin they won t go back on me. I would 
 swar by thet ole darky, an , sence the father is 
 squar , thet gives me a heap ov faith in the boy. 
 I ll hev a talk with them, then watch both, fur all 
 things is fair in love, war, an a hoss-race." 
 
 By this time he had reached the outskirts of the 
 village, and the oxen swung slowly along the hard- 
 beaten road. It was early yet, and but few were 
 abroad. Kirtley watered his oxen at the old town 
 
100 MANULITO. 
 
 pump; he then led the horse to the trough, and, 
 hearing light footsteps, turned and saw young Eph, 
 the colored lad, who doffed his hat and stood grin 
 ning at him, saying, 
 
 " Good-mo nin , Brer Kirtley ! Ah s heen 
 watchin fo yo fo sum time. De ole gem man, 
 my pa, said yo would want ter see me, en I was 
 only too glad ter cum ter town dis day, caus ob 
 de cel bration, specially de hoss-racin . En how 
 is my pet ?" said he, as he walked up to the horse 
 and threw his arm over the arched neck that was 
 bent over the trough. 
 
 The horse laid his ears back in playfulness, whin 
 nied his greeting, then rubbed his head against the 
 boy s shoulder, while Eph gently patted his neck 
 and rubbed his nose with affection. Kirtley noted 
 all this, saying, 
 
 " Yer seem ter be very fond ov the hoss, Eph, an 
 he s a good friend of yourn, too. Do yer think he 
 can win the race ter-day ?" 
 
 " Yes !" exclaimed the boy, eagerly. " He can 
 win, en will win ef I has my way." 
 
 "Your way!" replied Kirtley, in astonishment. 
 " An wot in thunder do yer mean by that ?" 
 
 " Ah mean," said the boy, "that yo gib me cha ge 
 ob dis hoss ter-day, let me do wid im ez Ah t inks 
 bes , me en de ole gem man, Ah ll ride im." 
 And the boy s eyes grew brighter as he continued : 
 " En w en I am on is back de hoss don lib dat 
 ken beat im a mile." 
 
MR. THOMPSON AND HIS HORSE. 1Q1 
 
 Kirtley looked down at the ground, then steadily 
 at the boy, and said, 
 
 " Ephrum, I have in my pockets, an whar I can 
 lay my han s on it, clus ter a thousand dollars, an 
 besides Fm goin ter bet cattle, hosses, an anything 
 I have. I don t take no bluffs ter-day from no one. 
 Knowin thet I am goin ter do this, air ye willin 
 ter undertake ter win fur me ?" 
 
 The boy s eyes filled with tears, as he replied, 
 
 "Brer Kirtley, dat hoss d fly ef Ah axed im 
 ter. Ah lubs im, en e lubs me. Ah don want 
 no spuhs, no gad, -jus de op chunity ter git on is 
 back, -jus de chance ter lean ober en whisper in 
 
 is years. Den, den " and the youth excitedly 
 
 finished, "Ah don t ink a teal duck or a sparrer- 
 hawk c d ketch us. Yo can trus me, Brer Kirt 
 ley, en Ah feel sho Ah can win." 
 
 "Wall!" replied Kirtley, "I ll think it over. 
 You take the hoss now, an don t low no man ter 
 tech him er go near him, far the gang that 11 be 
 here ter-day 11 stan watchin , an I don t want ter 
 give em a chance ter work any ov their tricks 
 on me." 
 
 The boy looked his delight, and, seizing the 
 horse s halter-strap, said, 
 
 " T ank yo , Brer Kirtley, yo won regret dis. 
 Ah ll watch yo hoss, en no one sh ll tech im or 
 go nigh im." 
 
 At this he led the horse away. The curious 
 villagers by this time had surrounded the wagon, 
 
 9* 
 
102 MANUL1TO. 
 
 and when they learned that the huge antlers he- 
 longed to the charmed huck which for years had 
 defied the skill of the most successful hunters, 
 their curiosity was still greater. But Kirtley had 
 covered the animal s body with blankets, and, 
 motioning them away, spoke in an authoritative 
 manner, 
 
 "Stan back, gentlemen! Stan back! The 
 menag rie ain t open yet. Wait till the proper 
 time comes an ye sh ll see the buck in all his 
 dead glory." 
 
 With that he drove his team along, the crowd 
 moving aside to let them pass through, and when 
 he reached the stable belonging to the tavern he 
 placed the oxen in charge of the hostler, giving 
 him parting instructions not to let the deer be un 
 covered, for there would be a time and place for 
 that. Then he proceeded to the tavern, where he 
 was accorded a hearty welcome. 
 
 In another part of the village, Wellington and 
 Manulito were seated in the office of the former. 
 The huge fire was throwing out its warmth, pene 
 trating every recess of the room. The occupants 
 had evidently been discussing some disputed ques 
 tion, for the Indian said, 
 
 " I know, Gray Eagle, what you would say, and 
 how you feel ; but last night was the happiest of 
 my life, for I lay awake for hours, then fell asleep 
 dreaming of the deed I had done ; and I thanked 
 the Great Manitou that he had permitted me to 
 
MR. THOMPSON AND HIS HORSE. 1Q3 
 
 save the life of my brother, the man I love better 
 than all the world besides." 
 
 " Yes," replied Wellington, " I can well imagine 
 how you felt, although I have amply proved to you 
 that I fully and freely forgave what happened 
 months ago. Up to this time neither you nor I 
 have ever mentioned what occurred then. I thought 
 we never would, but what you did for me and mine 
 yesterday permits me to speak freely, and seems to 
 make more holy the promise I gave you that day 
 in the woods, to be always your brother. I always 
 will be. I shall never forget that dreadful moment 
 of suspense, when, utterly exhausted, I raised my 
 hands over my head and closed my eyes, expect 
 ing to feel the sickening crash of the mad brute s 
 hoofs through my head. Then I heard the report 
 of your gun as if in a dream, a report way off down 
 the stream, and then I sank into unconsciousness, 
 for the next thing I knew I was on the bank and 
 you were rubbing my hands and limbs. I opened 
 my eyes once and saw it was you ; you did not see 
 me, but tenderly kissed my hand." 
 
 At this the Indian started in surprise, as if to 
 deny it, but Wellington softly laid his hand on his 
 arm, and said, 
 
 " No, Manulito ! Do not be ashamed of that 
 token of affection. A kiss from one as proud as 
 you, and at such a time, was the imprint from the 
 lips of one who possesses a soul second to no living 
 man s. When I saw it was you I drifted gently 
 
104 MANULITO. 
 
 into the sweetest sleep, and dreamed of you and 
 me hunting together in the warm summer-time. 
 How long I slept I do not know, but your voice 
 and that of Kirtley awakened me, and I then real 
 ized all that had happened." 
 
 As Wellington finished the Indian dropped his 
 blanket from his arms, exposing his broad shoulders, 
 upon which the firelight flickered, and addressed 
 his companion. 
 
 " The darkest clouds come before the day, and 
 the days of greatest sorrow are followed by many 
 happy ones. The Great Spirit does not intend that 
 the life of man shall be always like a winter s day, 
 cold and dreary, but strews the bright and pleasant 
 ones along like flowers in the prairie-grass, so that 
 at times we find them where we least expect them. 
 For many moons the heart of Manulito has been 
 sad, ever since the meeting in the forest. It seemed 
 as if he were less a warrior to let his heart grow so 
 heavy, and he tried in hunting and in other ways 
 to throw this burden from him. At times he 
 did so ; it was but for a short time, however, for 
 the old feeling came back. His heart was weary 
 and there was something wanting ; what, he did 
 not know, but he felt sad, as he did when his 
 mother died. Manulito knew the Gray Eagle had 
 forgiven him, that did not trouble him ; but it 
 must have been that the Great Spirit burned with 
 fire the heart of Manulito until he knew the sin he 
 had committed, for he could not free himself from 
 
MR. THOMPSON AND HIS HORSE. 1Q5 
 
 the remembrance of it. But when the Great Mani- 
 tou directed the footsteps of Manulito to the ford, 
 and gave him the speed of the deer and the eye of 
 the eagle to save his brother, then Manulito felt that 
 his sin was forgiven and that he could once again be 
 a warrior and a man. Since that time his heart has 
 been glad, the sun shines more brightly and the 
 time passes more pleasantly, for he feels that the 
 Great Manitou has forgiven him for attempting to 
 take the life of his brother." 
 
 Wellington seized the Indian s hand, and, warmly 
 pressing it, said, 
 
 "Let s drop the subject, Manulito, and talk of 
 what we are to do to-day. Shooters will be here 
 from the surrounding country, and our fame is 
 known. Nothing would afford these visitors greater 
 satisfaction than to outshoot you and me." 
 
 The Indian drew himself up proudly, and said, 
 
 " When two men shoot better than the Gray 
 Eagle and Manulito it will be when our eyesight is 
 dimmed with age or we are in our graves." 
 
 " I am glad you feel that way," laughingly replied 
 Wellington, " for I am sure I never felt more like 
 shooting in my life. We ought to do well to-day, 
 for there isn t a particle of wind blowing. But 
 come, let s go out into the street. It is nine o clock, 
 and some of the people will gather at the square 
 to hear the announcement of the programme for 
 the day." 
 
 As they stepped into the street they met a man 
 
106 MANULITO. 
 
 who was well known throughout the West, a man 
 who never denied his vocation when directly ques 
 tioned, but one whose personal appearance did not 
 indicate his calling. He was born and raised in 
 Massachusetts. His early training and education 
 were such as cultivated parents would give their 
 children. His father was a man of brilliant attain 
 ments, who desired his son to follow mercantile 
 pursuits ; his mother was a woman of great refine 
 ment, noted for her charitable deeds and generosity. 
 The son had every opportunity to make for himself 
 a fortune and a name, but he was led away by evil 
 companions until the straight path of honorable 
 dealing was abandoned, and he followed the vari 
 able but fascinating life of a gambler. He was of 
 such a disposition that, whether basking in the 
 smiles of prosperity or laboring under the ban of 
 evil luck, he was the same, always smiling, glad to 
 see his friends, generous to all. He would take 
 every advantage of a man when dealing with him, 
 but afterwards he would willingly lend to his victim, 
 without security, more than the amount won from 
 him. 
 
 His favorite game was with cards, and whether 
 playing poker or risking large sums in faro and 
 roulette, or sitting beneath the shade of some large 
 tree playing penny ante or seven-up for twenty-five 
 cents a corner, he was equally happy. He never 
 played for fun, that is, a game for the purpose of 
 idling away his time, for when invited to join in a 
 
MR. THOMPSON AND HIS HORSE. 1Q7 
 
 game of that kind, his invariable reply, accompa 
 nied with the blandest smile, was, 
 
 "I know I would enjoy your company, gentle 
 men, but really I am such an indifferent player 
 that I know my poor playing would result in a 
 loss of interest in the game to the rest." 
 
 But his special hobby was fast horses. He did 
 not care for trotters, believing that running was 
 the natural gait of the horse. This theory he 
 dearly loved to demonstrate, and at his breeding- 
 farm he always had at command a choice lot of 
 youngsters, or three- to five-year-olds. He was 
 a great believer in blooded animals, and felt that 
 speed could be attained only by the proper admix 
 ture of the purest blood. 
 
 In personal appearance he was fully six feet tall, 
 with smoothly-shaven face; his eyes were dark 
 gray, while his hair was jet-black and grew long 
 and straight, spreading over his shoulders. The 
 constant smile on his face was not repulsive, but 
 it caused one to feel that it was a mask which con 
 cealed unexpressed thoughts, and that the man who 
 confided in him would be deceived. Such was 
 Thompson, whose presence Kirtley had anticipated, 
 and as is usual with such a man, he was followed 
 by numerous confederates or adherents. 
 
 Wellington had done considerable business for 
 him from time to time, so that their meeting was 
 cordial. Thompson knew the Indian, and seeing 
 him in company with Wellington, gave him a 
 
108 MANULITO. 
 
 kindly nod of recognition, as he grasped the law 
 yer s hand, and exclaimed, 
 
 " Well, Mr. "Wellington, how are you, anyway ? 
 Growing younger and handsomer every day, I see !" 
 
 "No, Ed, I can t say that," replied Wellington, 
 "but I have no especial cause for complaint; on 
 the contrary, if I am not growing younger, I am 
 growing stronger, for I never felt as well as I have 
 this winter." 
 
 " The fields and the forest, the prairies, the wind 
 ing streams, and the open air, it is to these he owes 
 his good health," responded Manulito. 
 
 " I don t doubt it," said Thompson, " for I lead 
 a roving, unsettled life, and I never enjoy as good 
 health as when I am knocking around, camping 
 out and making overland journeys. But there s 
 a crowd gathering out there on the common. Sup 
 pose we go out and see what s up. Probably they re 
 arranging for the day." 
 
 As they neared the spot, the crowd turned and 
 faced them. Then a great shout went up, and a 
 voice cried out, 
 
 " Three cheers for Wellington !" 
 
 After these were given, the same voice yelled, 
 
 " And three times three and a tiger for Manulito, 
 the Indian who saved his life !" 
 
 At these demonstrations Wellington blushed, 
 and glanced affectionately at Manulito, but the 
 Indian looked distressed, for he did not care for 
 such evidences of appreciation. His reward the 
 
MR. THOMPSON AND HIS HORSE. 1Q9 
 
 saving of a life, that of his best friend had been 
 enough. Besides, his was a retiring disposition, 
 and he avoided rather than courted notoriety. But 
 the crowd cheered him again and again ; and when 
 he sought to get away, "Wellington laughingly seized 
 his blanket and said, 
 
 " No, no, Manulito ! You promised to stick by 
 me to-day, and I won t let you go." 
 
 The Indian saw it was of no avail to attempt to 
 escape, so trudged amidst the crowd in quiet resig 
 nation. Wellington knew that Kirtley had told 
 of the previous day, and regretted exceedingly 
 that he had not been a hidden listener to the tale 
 that his friend had unfolded. 
 
 The crowd had placed boards across the wagon- 
 box, and had then put the deer on top of them so 
 that all could see it. The men and boys crowded 
 around, admiring the great animal, especially its 
 magnificent antlers, which hung over the wagon s 
 sides in conspicuous prominence. 
 
 All, or nearly all, had tales to tell of this buck, 
 the finest specimen of its race. A few had seen 
 it in life ; many had seen its imprints in the snow ; 
 while all knew of its ability to travel, to be here 
 one day, pursued by hounds, while on the follow 
 ing day it would be seen quietly browsing perhaps 
 a hundred miles away. It was impossible to reckon 
 its age, and now that it lay before them in the 
 rigidity of death, insensible to its surroundings, 
 more than one heart beat with pity at the recollec- 
 
 10 
 
HO MANULITO. 
 
 tion of the charmed life this beast had borne for 
 so many years. Indeed, the Indians believed it 
 was possessed of an evil spirit ; that some one had 
 died steeped in sins and wickedness, and that the 
 Evil One had transferred the spirit of the deceased 
 to this deer. While it lived, the dead person s soul 
 would be in direst distress, unable to obtain rest or 
 forgiveness. This, they said, was why it could not 
 be killed or captured; many of them vowing that 
 they had shot it, only to have their bullets fall 
 harmless to the ground. The dead deer disclosed 
 a history of a life, a life spent in forest, prairie, 
 and dells. The great body was scarred here and 
 there by traces of bullets which had reached their 
 mark but did not strike a vital part. Here and 
 there on its head and on its limbs were white 
 seams, showing where hounds had bravely attacked 
 it, but in vain. No wonder, then, that the villagers 
 flocked to see this king as he lay before them, for 
 they knew that the fact of his death and the names 
 of the successful hunters would be heralded far and 
 near. Besides, they felt a justifiable pride in those 
 two hunters, and they believed that there did not 
 exist two men more skilful in the use of the rifle. 
 As they approached, Kirtley cried out, 
 " Welcome, gentlemen ! Welcome ! I ve jes 
 b en tellin , in my poor way, all bout the killin 
 ov ther buck. Course, I couldn t tell it ez well 
 ez sum, f rinstunce you, Mr. Wellin ton, but they 
 got me up^on the waggin, sisted I sh d tell them 
 
MR. THOMPSON AND HIS HORSE. 
 
 the hull story bout the shootin ov the deer, an 
 I don t know wot I sed, but I m dinged ef I didn t 
 talk jes like a Fourth o July or tor fur nigh a 
 half-hour." 
 
 " Hoop-la ! Bully fur you, Kirtley ! You sh ll 
 be our orator next Fourth !" exclaimed a voice from 
 the crowd. 
 
 At this Kirtley looked down, seemed confused, 
 and said, 
 
 " Now, boys ! Thet s hardly fa r ter poke fun et 
 me. You know I hev n t got ther gift ov gab, nor 
 the big wuds ter speak at sech a time, but ter-day 
 my speechifyin wuz kinder spontan us-like, an* 
 wot I sed I couldn t help, fur I sed it afore I 
 knowed it, an didn t tend any ov the time ter 
 make a speech." 
 
 At this time, noticing "Wellington nearing the 
 wagon, he cried out, 
 
 " Here, Bill ! Cum, git up here an nounce the 
 program ov the day !" 
 
 Wellington came smilingly forward, bowed to 
 his friends as he passed through the crowd, and 
 climbed up on the wagon, where he could see and 
 be seen. As he appeared a great shout rent the 
 air, and several voices cried in unison, 
 
 " A speech ! A speech !" 
 
 But Wellington raised his hand to ask their 
 attention, and said, 
 
 " Friends and Fellow-Citizens : I appreciate the 
 welcome you accord me. I appreciate the feeling 
 
112 MANULITO. 
 
 of friendship that I know dwells in your hearts. 
 I appreciate the fact that you are not only willing 
 but anxious that I should make a speech to you. 
 But there is a time and place for everything, and 
 you must agree with me that this is neither the 
 time nor the place, because we have not met here 
 to listen to an oration or the discussion of any sub 
 ject, but solely to pass this day in such a manner 
 that those who actively participate may feel they 
 have been in the dwelling-place of hospitable citi 
 zens, and have been accorded a fair field for the 
 exhibition of their special accomplishments in the 
 way of skill ; while the others, the larger class, who 
 are here not as active participators but as spectators, 
 will, when they leave this village to-night, depart 
 with a sincere feeling of satisfaction, a satisfaction 
 derived from all they have seen and enjoyed, so 
 that they can say in their hearts that this day is one 
 long to be remembered, and one of the pleasantest 
 in their lives. 
 
 "As Chairman of the Committee on Entertain 
 ment, I desire to announce the programme of the 
 day, which will be as follows : 
 
 "First, foot-races. After their conclusion, din 
 ner. Then rifle-shooting for prizes, followed by 
 fancy shooting by experts. And the day s sports 
 to conclude with a grand sweepstake race, mile 
 heat, best two in three. 
 
 " After this there will be a grand supper served 
 by the ladies of the village, free to everybody ; and 
 
MR. THOMPSON AND HIS HORSE. H3 
 
 at night we will conclude the day s sports with a 
 dance over there at the new hotel. 
 
 " And now," he continued, " let every one seek 
 enjoyment, for this day we are servants of the 
 people, and bound by the sacred ties of hospitality 
 to make your time pass gayly. No sighs nor tears 
 to-day, but let everybody laugh and have a jolly 
 time. Forget your troubles and your misfortunes ! 
 I wish to say here that we hope that you will all 
 stay throughout the entire day, for the horse-race 
 promises to be especially good, as Mr. Thompson 
 is here from a distance, and has with him a very 
 fleet horse, * Imp o Darkness, which he has entered 
 in the race. Mr. Kirtley has also entered a horse, 
 * Sweet Marjorum, and there are several other 
 entries. Thanking you for your attention, and 
 asking you now to join us in the sports of the day, 
 we will begin at once." 
 
 10* 
 
114 MANULITO. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 A GALA DAY AT THE VILLAGE. 
 
 " If all the year were playing holidays, 
 To sport would be as tedious as to work ; 
 But when they seldom come, they wished-for come, 
 And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 As Wellington jumped down from the wagon 
 his hearers vigorously applauded him; then, as 
 they wended their way to the grounds where the 
 sports were to occur, all interest seemed to centre 
 in the race, one saying to another, 
 
 " Take my advice, don t you bet a cent on that 
 hoss-race ! Imp o Darkness ! Why don t they 
 call him by his right name ? for he is the devil, sure 
 enough, to run. 
 
 " Thompson is pretty cute to come strayin in 
 here. Probably thinks we don t know of this hoss. 
 That s all right," continued the speaker, " but ef 
 he s playin me fur a sucker, he s goin to get fooled, 
 cause I know him an all his hosses too well. He 
 ain t comin here fur his health." 
 
 " So Kirtley has a hoss," exclaimed his com 
 panion. " Wall, gener ly speakin , Kirtley is up ter 
 snuff, but I don t imagine he has any idee his hoss 
 will win, but he jes wants ter make some fun. He 
 
A GALA DAY AT THE VILLAGE. H5 
 
 allus has some pretty fair bosses, but law ! he ain t 
 fool enough ter bet, leastwise I wouldn t think so. 
 Thompson skinned him last year outen several 
 hundred dollars, an I guess he s had nough of 
 Thompson an his crowd. Et ther same time, 
 Kirtley is gritty! His gizzard is full of sand, 
 an ef he gits bout two-thirds under sea, licker 
 makes him nervy, he ill bet, an keep bettin . 
 But there s no use foolin with him, fur ef he takes 
 a notion his boss can run let him go. No use 
 interferin ! You can t stop him. It s the old story 
 bout a fool an his money." 
 
 Those in attendance were bent on amusement, 
 and now that the exercises of the day were to 
 begin, they surged forward, a jolly crowd, ready 
 to shout and laugh on the least possible occasion. 
 
 When the names of the entries in the foot-race 
 were called there was manifest surprise, for it was 
 ascertained that Manulito was not among the num 
 ber. His fame as a runner was well known, for 
 he had participated in many races, and had never 
 been defeated. The committee called on him and 
 tried to induce him to reconsider his decision, but 
 it was of no avail. He did not hesitate to give his 
 reason, but said, 
 
 " When Manulito fires his rifle, his aim must be 
 true, his nerves steady, his blood cool. This can 
 not be if Manulito runs races." 
 
 As the crowd much preferred an exhibition of 
 the Indian s shooting, they did not insist on his run- 
 
116 MANULITO. 
 
 ning. But there are always plenty to join in a foot 
 race at a country meet, and this was no exception. 
 It was amusing to see the costumes in which some 
 of them ran; several were in their stocking feet, 
 and one fellow was barefooted ; but the prevailing 
 style was for the bareheaded runner to appear in 
 his undershirt, trousers rolled up, stocking feet, 
 and with a leather belt, drawn taut for the occa 
 sion, around his waist. 
 
 As they began disrobing for the race, Thompson 
 stood near, and remarked, 
 
 " Gentlemen, you are going to see a fine exhibi 
 tion of speed ; I know it from the active young men 
 who will run. At the same time, it seems to me 
 that more ought to engage, and if I were a young 
 man I surely would. This young man at my side 
 says he is a stranger here, but thinks he would like 
 to try with the others." 
 
 " Good for him ! The more the merrier !" ex 
 claimed several. 
 
 Kirtley stood near, and quietly remarked, 
 " Do yer think this young feller can run, Ed ?" 
 " Why, Mr. Kirtley," replied Thompson, "I don t 
 know, I m sure. He says he is a stranger here; 
 maybe he can run, maybe he can t. At the same 
 time, while I don t often bet, I would be willing 
 to wager ten dollars that he beats any one you 
 eay." 
 
 " Make it ten ag in the balance, an I ll go ye." 
 " All right, I ll do it," responded Thompson. 
 
A GALA DAY AT THE VILLAGE. H7 
 
 The money was placed in a bystander s hands, 
 and the young man leisurely walked out among 
 the other racers. As he joined them, he was 
 warned to get ready. At this he plunged down 
 into his pocket, and produced a low pair of shoes, 
 light, but with corrugated soles to avoid slipping. 
 He then divested himself of his outer clothing, and 
 stood before them arrayed in flesh-colored tights. 
 
 The racers toed the scratch, their left feet and 
 arms well forward, while their right arms were 
 parallel with their bodies and their hands firmly 
 clinched. After two or three false starts, they 
 were off amid the shouts of the multitude. For 
 the first seventy-five yards one of the resident 
 runners seemed to have the best of it, but the 
 stranger gained, passed first one, then another, 
 until he was even with the leader at ninety yards ; 
 then with a spurt which could not be denied he 
 bounded ahead and won by a few feet. As the 
 result was announced there were not any cheers 
 given, but many significant winks were passed, 
 and some one quietly remarked, 
 
 " Purty cute o Thompson, wasn t it, ringin in 
 thet perfeshnal ?" 
 
 His neighbor replied, " Sarved old Kirtley right 
 to lose his ten. He oughter knowed better nor ter 
 bet ag in Thompson. But you mark my word, he s 
 begun bettin , an he ll keep it up an go home 
 broke." 
 
 At this juncture the ringing of the town bell 
 
118 MANULITO. 
 
 announced to all that dinner was ready, and a tem 
 porary adjournment of the sports of the day was 
 proposed. The crowd repaired to the tavern, well 
 satisfied with what they had seen thus far, and 
 feeling that the afternoon s events, the shooting 
 and the horse-racing, would add still more to the 
 enjoyment of the occasion. 
 
 When the majority reached the vicinity of the 
 hotel, Kirtley slipped away and went to the stable 
 where his horse was in possession of the colored lad. 
 He thought his departure was unperceived, but, as 
 he entered the door, a hand was laid on his shoulder, 
 and, turning in surprise, he saw Manulito. He was 
 impatient at the interruption, and said, sharply, 
 
 " Wall ?" 
 
 The Indian looked steadily at him, and said, 
 
 " When the wolves are abroad the sheep need 
 protection. Graybeard is not afraid of the wolves. 
 In open battle he has no cause to be, but the one 
 with the smooth tongue and mild looks is followed 
 by a pack which wait for him to strike. Then they 
 will snarl and rend the prey he has bitten." 
 
 " I onderstan , Manulito ; yer want ter put me 
 on my guard ag in Thompson an his gang. I m 
 jes as much bleeged ter yer, an preciate yer 
 good intentions, but I know wot I m doin ." 
 
 The Indian persevered, and said, 
 
 " When the cow beats the deer, when the sheep 
 beats the antelope, then can the farmer s horse beat 
 the thoroughbred." 
 
A GALA DAY AT THE VILLAGE. H9 
 
 " Oh, I see !" exclaimed Kirtley. " Yer think 
 I ve taken a hoss from haulm wood, an expect 
 with it ter beat Imp o Darkness. I ve got a heap 
 ov faith in yer, ef yer air an Injun ; yer know I 
 hev hed sence yer helped Bill outer thet scrape on 
 the "Waps , an I want yer to step in here with me 
 an look at a hoss,- a hoss wot is a hoss. Yer a 
 jedge, an wot yer sees don t mention ter nobody, 
 fur ther s goin ter be a supprise this arternoon. I 
 know I be old, but yer go down in yer pockets an 
 bet yer las dollar on this hoss. I m goin ter, yer 
 kin bet yer life on thet." 
 
 But the Indian felt that Kirtley was over-confi 
 dent, and shook his head discouragingly. As they 
 approached the stall where the horse stood, the 
 negro lad stepped out and said, 
 
 " Ah s heah, Brer Kirtley ; Ah s been heah all de 
 time. No one done tech dis hoss ceptme an " 
 
 " Yes, sah, dat am true," responded another 
 voice, and Uncle Rastus stepped out of another 
 stall. " Yes, sah," said Rastus. " No one done 
 tech dis hoss; but one dem gambler fellahs done 
 kum roun heah, e didn t see me, an e talked 
 sweet ter Eph, den wanted ter look at de hoss s 
 mout , jus ter see how ole e am. Den w en young 
 Eph ject, den de gambler fellah sez, sez he, Am 
 goin ter see anyhow. Yo knows, Brer Kirtley, 
 Ah was baun an bred in de Souf, an knows wot 
 dis fellah am up ter, ter dope de hoss. So Ah sez, 
 Yo want ter see, does yo ? Den Ah calls yoV 
 
120 MANULITO. 
 
 An at dat Ah stahts fo m, an e stahts fo de 
 do ; but, bress mah h aht, ef dis foot ob mine didn t 
 ketch m, an Ah spec s w en e eats s dinnah, e 
 won t ax fo a cheer." 
 
 Kirtley saw his interests were being protected, 
 and thanked both father and son. The old darky 
 edged up to Kirtley, and said, 
 
 " Is yo goin ter bet much, Brer Kirtley, on dis 
 hoss-race ?" 
 
 " Yaas," responded that worthy. " Yaas, I m 
 goin ter bet more n I ever bet afore." 
 
 " Law me !" exclaimed Uncle Rastus, " dat s sand, 
 sho nuff; but den, Ah don b leeb in hit, an Ah 
 don t ink no good comes f um money made in 
 bettin ." 
 
 " Oh, yes," says Kirtley. " You air mealy- 
 mouthed. Yer got r ligion, that s wot s the trouble 
 with yer." 
 
 " Trouble wid me, Brer Kirtley ? De Lawd 
 bress yo , Ah don borrer no trouble cause Ah got 
 a little ligion." And he continued, feelingly : " Ah 
 wish yo had it too. Hit would do yo mo good 
 dan anyt ing yo will git in dis wu ld. Ah ain t 
 shamed to knowledge it fo man, an Ah say right 
 heah, ef de Lawd dis minnit was ter send down 
 salvation ter yo , right smack t roo de roof ob dis 
 stable, Ah don keer how much de xpense am, po 
 as Ah be, Ah would chee fully pay de damages, jus 
 ter see yo git ligion." 
 
 Kirtley smiled and instructed the boy to lead out 
 
A GALA DAY AT THE VILLAGE. 121 
 
 the horse. "When Eph did so, Manulito, who was 
 an excellent judge of horses, loosened his hlanket 
 from his shoulders, throwing it carelessly around 
 his waist, 1 and looked eagerly at Kirtley. Kirtley 
 enjoyed the surprised look, and said, 
 
 " Never mind me, Manulito ; I m not goin ter 
 run; it s the hoss thet s goin ter do thet. Look at 
 him an let me know wot yer thinks." 
 
 The Indian gave one quick glance, which covered 
 the animal, and said, 
 
 " Horse born and bred where the summer-time 
 lasts all winter ; horse s home same as the mocking 
 bird s." 
 
 At this Uncle Rastus broke into a loud " Yah ! 
 yah! Yo can t fool im. Yo didn t fool me, 
 nuther. Dat hoss kum f um Kaintuck." 
 
 While Manulito was admiring the horse, the ani 
 mal stood as quietly as a lamb, except to occasionally 
 rub his nose against young Eph, soliciting the 
 caresses he knew he would receive. Manulito 
 noted every point of his contour : the dark hazel 
 eyes that looked so spirited, yet had the mildness 
 of a gazelle, the small pointed ears, the transpar 
 ent nostrils, the deep chest with the lung-power 
 so well concealed, the strong forearms ; indeed, all 
 the elements of speed essential to a racer were 
 possessed to a marked degree. Sweet Marjorum 
 was a dark sorrel horse, with a long, fine tail which 
 nearly reached the ground, and his only conspicuous 
 mark was a spot of white on the forehead. 
 
 11 
 
122 MAXULITO. 
 
 "When Manulito had feasted his eyes on this 
 equine wonder, he said, 
 
 " Twas such horse as this that, when Manulito 
 was a child, his father owned; gentle as a kitten, 
 obedient as a spaniel, brave as a lion, fleeter than 
 the wind. On the prairies no enemy could escape 
 my father the great chief when he rode his 
 horse. This one looks the same ; nothing can beat 
 him." 
 
 " Bully fur you, Manulito ! Bully fur you ! JSTow 
 yer talkin sense. I knowed yer wuz a good jedge 
 of a hoss, so I showed yer one." 
 
 As they finished their conversation, the young 
 colored lad approached Kirtley and said, impres 
 sively, 
 
 " Brer Kirtley, yo promised me dat Ah sh d hab 
 cha ge ob dis hoss an ride im. As de Lawd is 
 my jedge, Ah will do de bes Ah can fo yo . But 
 Ah wants ter ride mah way, an , no mattah wot 
 peahs ter happen ter de hoss, Ah want yo ter keep 
 on bettin till Ah tells yo ter stop. De hoss an 
 me on erstan one nudder, an ef yo will bet, den 
 Ah ll try an make yo a heap o money." 
 
 Kirtley demurred to this, not being willing to 
 risk large sums of money on a boy s whim, but 
 Uncle Rastus felt that Eph would bring the horse 
 in a winner, and Manulito was so impressed with 
 the lad s sincerity that they prevailed on Kirtley to 
 consent to his demands. As Kirtley and the Indian 
 left the stable to go to dinner, Eph threw his arms 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 123 
 
 around the horse s neck and patted him affection 
 ately, saying, 
 
 " Honey, I knows we will win, I knows it." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE HORSE-RACE. 
 
 " Kound-hoof d, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, 
 
 Broad breast, full size, small head, and nostrils wide, 
 High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing strong, 
 
 Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide : 
 Look, what a horse should have, he did not lack, 
 Save a proud rider on so proud a back." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 IN those early days the principal resort for all 
 loungers those who had leisure time and those 
 who wanted to hear the latest news was the bar 
 room of a tavern. It was not a drinking-resort, but 
 it had not gained the dignified name of office. It 
 was therefore to be expected that at the conclusion 
 of the dinner those interested in sports would find 
 themselves in this bar-room. The air was blue with 
 tobacco-smoke, and animated discussions were being 
 carried on in all parts of the room, the topics being 
 the rifle-shoot and the race. It was generally con 
 cluded that the prize for rifle-shooting would fall 
 either to Wellington or the Indian. But a few, 
 
124 MANUL1TO. 
 
 whose desires were probably father to the thought, 
 said that the chances were strong that the prize 
 would go to some outsider. 
 
 The trophy was on exhibition at the hotel, and as 
 it was passed around, many were the expressions 
 of admiration it elicited. The eyes of old hunters 
 dwelt on it with eagerness, for to them, as with all 
 excellent shots, it was not the intrinsic value of the 
 article contended for, but the winning from those 
 who were computed equal to themselves in skill, 
 that afforded them the greatest pleasure and satis 
 faction. They were not to be blamed for looking 
 with solicitous eyes on the prize. It was a hand 
 some powder-horn, novel in design, and beautifully 
 engraved. It was made from a cow s horn, but 
 scraped to transparency, and polished to the high 
 est degree. Its stopple was of silver, held securely 
 from loss by a delicate yet strong gold chain. On 
 the centre of the horn, where the bend was the 
 fullest, a beautiful landscape was engraved, repre 
 senting pastoral life. The base of the horn was of 
 silver, having in relief figures of yellow gold and 
 Etruscan bronze. These figures represented an 
 Indian riding his pony in pursuit of a buffalo, and 
 showed him just in the act of striking with his 
 spear. The bronze had been so delicately shaded 
 into a copper color that the Indian s limbs and 
 shoulders seemed most lifelike. 
 
 Wellington s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as 
 he looked at the trophy, and said, 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 125 
 
 " Perfectly beautiful, Manulito. How I hope that 
 you or I may win it !" 
 
 The Indian gazed at it rapturously, handling it 
 with affectionate interest, and said, 
 
 " It shall remain at this village." 
 
 At this moment Thompson spied Kirtley, and 
 called to him, saying, 
 
 "What s this I hear about your having a new 
 horse ?" 
 
 " Oh," responded the old man, "I allus hev a 
 hoss ter enter in a race. Would be better off ef I 
 didn t." 
 
 "JSTo, I don t agree to that," said Thompson, 
 " for you have a good farm, are a good judge of 
 horse-flesh, and I don t see why you shouldn t have 
 fast horses. But they tell me that you and I have 
 scared the balance out. They have withdrawn and 
 left us with our horses as the only entries. There 
 is but one prize, the citizens purse of fifty dollars, 
 so I guess we are in for it." 
 
 " Wall," replied Kirtley, " I ve entered my hoss, 
 an I ain t a-goin ter back out. My hoss sh ll run." 
 
 "That s the stuff! That s the way to talk it! 
 Good for you, old man !" were the outcries from 
 those present. Kirtley was considered a resident 
 of the village, and they took local pride in him, 
 and while they thought it impossible that his horse 
 could win, still they devoutly hoped he might. 
 
 " Wonder if we hadn t better sell some pools on 
 the horses ?" said Thompson. 
 11* 
 
126 MANULITO. 
 
 No one responded, and he mounted a chair and 
 undertook to sell pools, but all were afraid. At 
 last he appeared disgusted, and said, 
 
 " I ll bet a hundred dollars that Imp o Darkness 
 wins the race." 
 
 Then, after waiting for a reply and receiving 
 none, continued, 
 
 " A hundred to ninety on the black horse." Still 
 no reply. " A hundred to eighty," directing his at 
 tention to Kirtley, and saying, in a sneering tone, 
 
 " It s very funny, gentlemen, how a man will enter 
 a horse in a race, and then won t bet ; afraid to back 
 his judgment." 
 
 " Oh," responded Kirtley, " yer drivin at me, 
 air ye? Beg pardon, I was talkin ter Mr. Wel- 
 lin ton, an didn t hear ye; but I ll jes take thet 
 last bet." 
 
 At this the followers of the gambler held bank- 
 bills aloft between their fingers, and cried to Kirt- 
 
 ley, 
 
 " A hundred to eighty on the black horse !" 
 
 " I ll take that, an that, an that, an that !" 
 called out Kirtley, as they crowded around him. 
 
 Wellington thought the old man was wild, and 
 tried to get him away. But he pulled back and 
 said, 
 
 " Let me go, Bill ; these fellers can t bluff me." 
 And, pulling coin from his pockets, covered all the 
 bets offered him. 
 
 Wellington was made stake-holder, and by mu- 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 127 
 
 tual consent was selected judge. He then an 
 nounced that it was nearly two o clock, the time 
 appointed for the rifle-match, and requested them 
 all to repair to the shooting-grounds, which the 
 majority did. As they passed out the door, Thomp 
 son winked at one of his confederates, who whis 
 pered, 
 
 " Just like finding it in the road." 
 
 The shooting-grounds were pleasantly situated, 
 facing the northeast. Plenty of turkeys were on 
 hand, and a Mr. Brown, an adept himself in shoot 
 ing matters, was selected as referee. He announced, 
 as he stepped forward, that the first match would 
 be at one hundred and fifty yards range, the shooter 
 to take any position he might select, and body shots 
 to count. In fact, if blood was drawn as the result 
 of a shot, it should be scored a hit, the prize to be 
 the turkey hit. 
 
 As the shooters stepped forward from the crowd, 
 there were ten of them. As the firing continued, 
 it was evident that out of the ten there were but 
 five that stood on an equality. These were Wel 
 lington, Manulito, a young hunter from the Wapsie 
 by the name of Johnson, and two tall, raw-boned 
 hunters, brothers, by the name of Smith, or, as 
 they were known for a great distance; " the two 
 Smiths, the Virginians." They brought with them 
 rifles with extremely long barrels, and of forty-five 
 calibre. These two brothers, shooting as a team, 
 
128 MANULITO. 
 
 had never been defeated, and a turkey s body at 
 one hundred and fifty yards was no test of their 
 skill. After a few rounds were fired, the distance 
 was shortened to seventy-five yards, the shooters to 
 hit the turkey s head or neck. In doing this the 
 turkeys were placed in a box, body concealed, with 
 head and neck exposed to view. Three shots each 
 were allowed. Johnson missed the first and scored 
 the other two, while the two Smiths, Wellington, 
 and Manulito made a clean score. As there were 
 four ties for this prize, ten dollars in gold, it was 
 agreed that the winner in the next match should 
 take the money in this. As they prepared for the 
 final test, the conditions of which they had not 
 learned, the referee called them forward and said, 
 " Gentlemen, your skilful shooting has pleased 
 every one present, but it still remains undecided 
 who is the best shot, and we are going to put you 
 to the test. The winner of this beautiful prize, 
 which I hold in my hand, may indeed cherish it, 
 for the ownership implies a cool head, a clear eye, 
 and a nerve of iron. I will place this card which 
 you see, two inches in diameter, at fifty yards. 
 With the edge of my knife I have marked both 
 horizontally and perpendicularly a line almost in 
 distinct; these lines cross in the exact centre of the 
 target. You will be allowed three shots each, and 
 the measurements are to be string measure from 
 the point where the lines cross to the edge of the 
 bullet-mark nearest the centre." 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 129 
 
 Johnson spoke, and said, 
 
 " Mr. Referee, I object to the Smiths shooting, 
 because of the way their sights are fixed." 
 
 The referee examined the rifles, and found they 
 had been arranged to improve the sight by oval 
 pieces of tin blackened and soldered over the front 
 and rear sights for perhaps six inches. This made 
 a telescope which unquestionably aided one s sight 
 on a still, bright day like this was. But the referee 
 decided the match was open to all rifles, and ordered 
 them to proceed with the shooting. 
 
 By mutual consent a black spot, one-half inch in 
 diameter, was pasted just above the crossed lines. 
 This enabled the marksmen to note where the 
 exact centre lines were. 
 
 Johnson was the first to shoot. As he stood 
 ready to fire, his feet close together, his left elbow 
 resting on his hip, while the fore-end of his rifle- 
 barrel lay on the tips of the fingers of his left hand, 
 he took deliberate aim, and, as the smoke rolled 
 away, the marker announced, " Centre !" There 
 was loud applause at the result. 
 
 Wellington was the next. His position was easy 
 and graceful, the left foot slightly advanced, the left 
 hand extended far along the barrel. His aim was 
 quick, and at the report of the gun he turned and 
 smiled, knowing, as if by intuition, where the bullet 
 had gone, a feeling which a successful hunter often 
 has, almost imagining he sees the bullet in its flight. 
 He was right, for the marker called out, " Centre !" 
 i 
 
130 AIANULITO. 
 
 As the elder Smith went to the score, his posi 
 tion was a peculiar one. He lay flat on the ground, 
 and rested his rifle on a standard about twelve 
 inches high and very solid. His aim was long and 
 careful ; his rifle was held as in a vise, and, as it 
 belched forth, the marker ran forward and turned, 
 calling, " Centre !" 
 
 The younger Smith was next. He took the 
 same position, the same deliberate aim, with the 
 same result. At this there was loud cheering, for 
 the Smiths had many friends present. 
 
 Next, and last, came Manulito. As he stepped 
 forward to shoot, he was greeted with loud cheers. 
 
 The Indian looked straight ahead, as cool and 
 calm as if he were going to fire at random. His 
 long piece rested in the crotch of his left arm ; he 
 shot with both eyes open j his rifle settled on his 
 elbow as he glanced along the barrel, apparently 
 not taking aim. ISTot so, however, for the marker 
 threw up his hat and yelled, " Centre !" 
 
 Now the crowd could scarcely contain themselves. 
 They slapped one another on the back, and ex 
 claimed, 
 
 " Hoop la ! Jes think ov it ! Every one a clean 
 score. Thet s wot I call shootin !" 
 
 On the second round Johnson was a shade to the 
 right. The marker produced his rule and an 
 nounced, " Three-eighths !" 
 
 " Oh, that s too bad !" exclaimed a voice. 
 
 As Wellington fired, he again secured a centre. 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 131 
 
 The elder Smith did the same ; but the younger 
 Smith overheld a trifle, and the marker announced, 
 " One-quarter over !" The Indian drove a centre 
 again, in his quick, decisive manner. 
 
 The percentage was now in favor of the local 
 shooters, hut the match was unfinished, and the 
 result could not be safely predicted. Johnson, at 
 tempting to benefit by his former miss, held too 
 much to the left. As the marker cried, " One-half 
 to the left !" Wellington stepped firmly forward and 
 fired with perfect coolness. As he did, the marker 
 hesitated for a second, the crowd seemed breath 
 less, then, " A plumb centre !" rang out, and the 
 crowd were wild with delight, for none could beat 
 his score. The best they could do was to tie 
 him. 
 
 The elder Smith seemed more deliberate than 
 ever, but as he heard the result of his shot his 
 heart was in his mouth, for the marker cried, 
 " Three-sixteenths under on centre line !" The 
 crowd were now more demonstrative than ever, for 
 no one could tie Wellington except the Indian, and 
 they did not especially care which one of them re 
 ceived the prize. In either case it would remain 
 in the village. But they crowded forward, inter 
 fering with the shooters, and it was some time 
 before order could be restored. 
 
 The younger Smith smiled and said, 
 
 " No use shooting. I ve missed the centre once. 
 That lets me out." 
 
132 MANUL1TO. 
 
 But they cried, " Go on and shoot ! Go on and 
 shoot !" He did so, and made a centre. 
 
 As Manulito stepped forward for his last shot, 
 Wellington said to him, 
 
 "I want you to shoot as if I had not 
 shot." 
 
 The Indian laid his hand on Wellington s arm, 
 looked tenderly into his eyes, and walked to the 
 score. He shot with the same celerity as before. 
 The crowd were silent as death. His rifle cracked, 
 and the target fluttered to the ground. As it did, 
 the elder Smith said, 
 
 "A perfect shot, and a generous act!" for his 
 experienced eye told him that the Indian had not 
 tried to hit the centre, but instead had driven the 
 nail into the tree and released the target. 
 
 As Wellington saw this, his eyes grew moist. 
 He seized the Indian s hand and said, 
 
 " Oh, Manulito, that s not fair ! You simply 
 gave this beautiful trophy to me." 
 
 To which the Indian replied, 
 
 " If the eye of Manulito has done it for you, it 
 was only what his heart hoped he might be able to 
 do. When the Gray Eagle looked so fondly at this 
 horn, at the tavern, Manulito secretly asked the 
 Manitou that his wish would be gratified. And 
 the beautiful gift cannot make my brother any 
 happier than is the heart of Manulito this day." 
 
 At this Kirtley cried out, 
 
 " Look, Bill ! Look over yer head." 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 133 
 
 As Wellington looked, he saw, almost directly 
 over the crowd, a flock of Canada geese, in slow 
 flight. Wellington raised his rifle and fired at the 
 leader, fully two hundred yards above him. As 
 he raised the piece, Manulito said, 
 
 " Draw in ahead of him." 
 
 The rifle spoke out in its sharp tone, apparently 
 without effect ; the gander set its wings, sailed per 
 haps fifty yards, then tumbled to the earth, shot 
 through the heart. 
 
 Those in attendance were in a jolly mood, and 
 they prevailed on the Indian to give an exhibition 
 of fancy shooting. 
 
 A card, the ace of hearts, was placed at fifty 
 yards. Each time a shot was fired a new board 
 was put behind it, showing three distinct centres 
 were made, while the hole in the card looked as if 
 but one shot had been fired. 
 
 A wooden ball was rolled on the ground. This 
 ball was an inch and a half in diameter, and was 
 about one hundred feet from the shooters. Wel 
 lington fired just under it. At the report of his 
 rifle the ball bounded from the ground, and while 
 it was in the air the Indian fired, completely shat 
 tering it. Silver-pieces were thrown up and inva 
 riably hit. Wellington stood thirty yards away, 
 and threw towards the Indian an ounce bottle, 
 which was smashed into thousands of pieces. 
 Manulito then mounted his pony, and, while at 
 full speed, broke small bottles thrown into the air. 
 
 12 
 
134 MANUL1TO. 
 
 As he finished his exhibition he was loudly cheered, 
 and then the crowd started for the races. 
 
 The track, while decidedly primitive, was yet in 
 perfect condition for speed. In early days a coun 
 try town prided itself on its horses and its place for 
 racing, and there was a smooth road near this town, 
 which was straight and level for a mile, according to 
 accurate measurements. The people men, women, 
 and children were beginning to arrive, and gave 
 a gala-day appearance to the scene. 
 
 The horses w r ere on the grounds, heavily swathed 
 in blankets and hoods, and were walked rapidly 
 up and down to keep up their circulation. Imp o 
 Darkness was led by a stable-boy, while Sweet 
 Marjoram was attended by Uncle Rastus and 
 Eph. 
 
 As the time advanced, the horses were called up, 
 and the owners instructed to get them ready for 
 the race. So the riders mounted and gave them a 
 preliminary canter. Both Kirtley and Thompson 
 elected to remain at the starting-point, believing 
 that a good start was a race half won. Many stayed 
 at the score, while by far the majority went to the 
 wire where the race was to end. 
 
 Kirtley was still confident that his horse would 
 win, and large sums were wagered between him 
 and Thompson and the latter s companions. 
 
 A flag was waved by Wellington, signifying that 
 they were ready when the starters were. Time 
 keepers were with Wellington, while Manulito was 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 135 
 
 to act as starter, dropping a flag when the horses 
 were off. Thompson wanted a running start, to 
 which Kirtley made no objection. 
 
 The horses were now stripped for the race in 
 magnificent condition. Their hair was as glossy as 
 silk, while their ribs wavered through their satin 
 coats. As the jockey s saddle was being girded 
 on the sorrel horse, he was as docile as if he did 
 not understand what was to happen, and only occa 
 sionally laid back his delicate ears when an extra 
 pull was made on the girth. 
 
 But the black horse was exceedingly restive, and 
 was properly named, for it seemed as if he were 
 possessed of the Evil One. In appearance he was 
 a perfect beauty, black as jet, without a single 
 white hair ; his eyes had a wicked snap, while fre 
 quent racing and consequent rubbings had made 
 him vicious to such an extent that he wore a 
 muzzle to keep him from biting. 
 
 His rider was a man of uncertain age, smooth 
 faced, with a determined mouth and chin, and 
 weighing less than one hundred pounds. Thomp 
 son removed the muzzle from his horse and seized 
 the rings of the bit. The horse knew what was 
 up, and reared and plunged, trying to get free in 
 his anxiety to start, and at times fairly lifting 
 Thompson off his feet. 
 
 Kirtley went to take his horse, but the boy said 
 to him, 
 
 " Nebber min , Brer Kirtley. Ah don need yo 5 
 
136 MANULITO. 
 
 sistance. Ah ll staht de hoss, an get none de 
 wuss ob it." 
 
 "All right, Eph," replied Kirtley; "yer win this 
 race and I ll give yer ther best colt I ve got on the 
 farm." 
 
 The young lad held back from the black horse, 
 and as they wheeled and bounded over the score, 
 the sorrel was slightly in the lead. 
 
 " Come back ! Come back !" the starter shouted. 
 
 But the horses were on their mettle, and ran an 
 eighth of a mile before they could be stopped. As 
 they trotted back, Thompson cried out to Kirtley, 
 
 " One hundred or two hundred dollars that the 
 black horse wins !" 
 
 " Give me odds an I ll take yer," said Kirtley. 
 
 " ]STo, I m clone giving you odds. I won t do it." 
 
 " Won t yer ?" said the old man, in sneering 
 tones. " Then I ll bet yer five hundred dollars even 
 thet my hoss wins !" 
 
 " "What !" yelled Thompson. 
 
 " Thet s wot I said, an here s the money." 
 
 As he produced it Thompson was temporarily 
 taken aback, but recovered himself and said, with 
 his serenest smile, 
 
 " I am glad to see you possessed of so much sand, 
 Mr. Kirtley, and we ll just accommodate you." 
 And he and his companions put the money up in 
 Mr. Brown s hands. 
 
 As the horses dashed forward the second time, 
 the black had the lead ; so much so that Thompson 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 137 
 
 hung on the bit and did not release him. The 
 horse was bound to go, and although Thompson 
 must have weighed two hundred pounds, the horse 
 dragged him along as he would a child. 
 
 On the third attempt the boy intended there 
 should be a start, and as the horses swung around, 
 they bounded forward with magnificent strides, 
 neck and neck. The crowd saw it would be a 
 start, and as they went over the line the flag 
 dropped. The crowd cheered with delight, and the 
 horses were off. 
 
 For the first quarter they ran like the wind, the 
 black horse cutting out the pace, and his rider 
 evidently trying to feel the speed of his antagonist, 
 but the sorrel horse remained head and head with 
 him. At the half the black horse gained a trifle, 
 and its head showed just in front of the sorrel. 
 When the flag dropped as they passed the half- 
 mile post, the timer ejaculated in surprise, 
 
 " Gracious ! the fastest half ever run on this 
 track ! Look at em come !" 
 
 Down they came towards the three-quarters pole, 
 their hoofs thundering their approach. The black 
 horse was still in the lead and running like the 
 wind, but seemingly unable to shake off his rival, 
 who hung grimly a nose behind. The crowd was 
 silent as death, too surprised and excited to shout, 
 for they had never seen such running. 
 
 As the horses dashed into the home-stretch they 
 seemed to realize it. The rider of Imp o Darkness 
 
 12* 
 
138 MANULITO. 
 
 now exerted every effort to rush him forward. He 
 dug his spurs into the horse, hut he could not free 
 him from the clinging sorrel. However, the wire 
 was near, and, while the sorrel did not lose, neither 
 did he gain. So perfect their stride that many 
 said, mentally, " A dead heat !" But within twenty 
 feet of the wire, the black horse, ever vicious, and 
 distressed with his punishment, infuriated at his 
 antagonist, quickly turned and bit at the neck of 
 his opponent. Alas ! a fatal move ! For young 
 Eph saw his opportunity ; he lifted the head of the 
 sorrel horse, and before the rider of the black could 
 straighten its head the nose of Sweet Marjorum 
 shot first over the wire and won the heat. 
 
 There was never a more demonstrative gather 
 ing. The time was not yet announced, but the 
 crowd knew it was better than they had ever seen 
 made, and they danced and whooped as only at 
 tendants at races can. Many who could not see the 
 outcome declared it a dead heat; others averred 
 that the black horse had won. But as Wellington 
 stood on a platform and asked their attention, there 
 was a perfect silence as he announced in a loud, 
 clear voice, 
 
 " Sweet Marjorum wins the heat. Time 1.52." 
 At this the crowd yelled louder than ever, their 
 continuous cheering announcing to those at the 
 starting-point the result of the heat. To corrob 
 orate this, a yellow flag was held aloft, denoting that 
 the sorrel horse won. 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 139 
 
 As they saw this, Thompson smiled and said, 
 
 " A horse-race is never won until the last heat is 
 run." 
 
 Kirtley at first stood dazed ; then, realizing what 
 had happened, threw his hat on the ground, and 
 executed a hornpipe in the most approved style, 
 humming his own accompaniment. 
 
 When it was ascertained that the heat was lost 
 by reason of the black horse attempting to bite the 
 sorrel, Thompson called his rider to him and asked 
 him how the heat was lost. The rider attributed 
 the blame to the ugly disposition of the animal, and 
 said, 
 
 "I kin beat thet sorrel hoss every day in de 
 week ! I played wid him most ov the time ; jes 
 feelin ov him. He s a good hoss, but can t stay 
 wid de Imp!" 
 
 " Stay ?" responded Thompson. " I should say 
 not ! Now, Jimmie, next heat cut out the pace, 
 and run away from him until you get a lead so 
 you know you have him dead to rights, for the 
 Imp is lightning, double distilled, and nothing can 
 beat him." 
 
 Then, with some parting instructions, given in 
 cautious whispered tones, Thompson joined the 
 crowd. 
 
 The village residents were elated over the result 
 of the first heat. They were full of enthusiasm, 
 and any number of small bets were made between 
 them, mostly for new hats. Whenever their ardor 
 
140 MANUL1TO. 
 
 led them to a monetary consideration, Thompson 
 or his adherents stood ready and accommodated 
 them, for they considered the result of the first 
 heat an accident which could not occur the second 
 time. 
 
 Thompson felt supreme confidence in his horse s 
 ability to win notwithstanding he had lost the first 
 heat, and, approaching Kirtley, suggested that they 
 increase their wagers. Kirtley had bet all the 
 money he had, and told Thompson so; but that 
 worthy guyed him, and said, 
 
 " Mr. Kirtley, when a man is willing to back his 
 horse he never can have too much money. If you 
 haven t the lucre yourself, circulate around among 
 your friends and let them make up a pool ; surely 
 their local pride ought to induce them to come in. 
 Nothing ventured nothing gained, you know." 
 
 The old man looked fixedly at the ground for an 
 instant, closed his lips determinedly, and replied, 
 
 " Ed, yer seed my team ov oxen this mornin , 
 didn t yer?" 
 
 Thompson nodded assent, and Kirtley con 
 tinued, 
 
 " Wall, they is wuth over a hundred dollars. 
 I ll jes bet them oxen an the wagon ag in a hun 
 dred dollars thet the sorrel wins." 
 
 Thompson put up the money in Mr. Brown s 
 hands, and that gentleman witnessed the bet. 
 
 Kirtley squeezed through the crowd, and found 
 Uncle Rastus exercising the horse, while Eph and 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 141 
 
 Manulito were quietly discussing the race. Kirtley 
 seized the boy s hand, nearly crushing it, and said, 
 
 " Good boy, Eph ! Good boy ! Jes keep it up 
 an the colt is yourn," 
 
 The boy smiled in confidence, and said, 
 
 " Brer Kirtley, de race am half won. Dat black 
 hoss am a runner, sho miff! But afo e git troo 
 dis race him will hab ter show hit." And he 
 grinned, showing a set of teeth of ivory white 
 ness. 
 
 The bell now rang for the second heat. The 
 horses were divested of blankets, sponged, and 
 brought to the starting-place. It was noticed that 
 Thompson was over-cautious in this heat. No 
 wonder; for, if he lost, he lost not only the race 
 but thousands of dollars. 
 
 The colored lad watched every movement; 
 nothing escaped him, and, not intending that there 
 should be a false start, he urged his horse, and they 
 bounded over the score together at the first attempt. 
 The rider of the black horse rode him for all he 
 was worth, and the speedy animal drew slowly 
 away from the sorrel. As they reached the half, 
 it was seen that they were going at a 1.48 pace. 
 Never was such running seen in this section. The 
 black horse was a full length in the lead, running 
 like a scared deer, but the young darky sat his 
 horse in easy confidence. At the three-quarters 
 they were even again; but at the home-stretch 
 with spurs and whip the black was plied, and, 
 
142 MANUL1TO. 
 
 springing forward, he drew gradually away from 
 Ms rival. Young Eph sat immovable upon his 
 horse, but he seemed doomed to defeat, for Imp o 
 Darkness galloped in, a winner by three lengths. 
 
 As the black flag was held aloft there was but 
 slight cheering, for the majority hoped that Kirt- 
 ley s horse would win the heat, and consequently 
 the race. 
 
 Thompson and his companions were supremely 
 happy, yet quiet in showing it, as one of them 
 remarked, 
 
 " A mere scratch that the sorrel won the first 
 heat. He will be distanced the next." 
 
 The crowd clamored for a change of riders for 
 the sorrel, claiming he was not half ridden, and 
 that the boy was bought up and did not try to win. 
 Kirtley was distrustful, and looked for another 
 rider. But the Indian had assumed charge of the 
 horse, and said, 
 
 " No ! The negro boy shall ride !" 
 
 Kirtley sputtered around, and muttered, 
 
 " Fool promise I made, an now I ll have ter pay 
 fur it!" 
 
 The colored lad stood silent, when Kirtley said 
 to him, 
 
 " Why in thunder don t yer say suthin ? Speak ! 
 Swear ! Anything but standin lookin like an 
 idgit!" 
 
 The boy looked calmly at him, dropped his 
 glance, and said, 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 143 
 
 "Dere s nudder heat ter run. Ah habn t tole 
 yo ter quit bettin ." 
 
 Kirtley drew back as if to hit the boy. Manu- 
 lito, interpreting his thoughts, stepped between 
 them, and said, 
 
 "Manulito would as soon strike a woman, as 
 soon a child, as an old man with gray hairs. But 
 if the Gray Beard touches this boy, Manulito will 
 strike him to the earth as if he were a dog." 
 
 " Very well," responded Kirtley. " I m in fur 
 it, an if I m beat I ll get even with yer two." 
 
 To which the Indian replied, "In every horse 
 race some one must lose." 
 
 Suddenly Eph darted towards his horse and led 
 him from the crowd. 
 
 In the mean time, Thompson was looking for 
 Kirtley, and accosting him, said, 
 
 " Your horse has won one heat, mine the other. 
 I should like to own your horse if he can beat 
 mine, and if mine can t beat yours, I don t care to 
 own him. You say you haven t any more money. 
 I ll make you this proposition : I ll bet my horse 
 against yours. If yours wins, you take both ; if 
 mine wins, I do the same. My horse cost me a 
 heap of money, and I am giving you the best of 
 the bargain." 
 
 The old man stood contemplatively, and mut 
 tered to himself, 
 
 " He don t know wot I paid fur thet sorrel, or 
 the expense ov the trip to Lexington." 
 
144 MANUL1TO. 
 
 Kirtley s friends told him he had bet enough, 
 that he could not afford to take the chances, and 
 insisted that he should not make this bet. But the 
 old man was obstinate. The more they argued 
 with him the more determined he seemed to have 
 Ms own way, and, shaking them from him, said, 
 
 " I ll do it ! Hoss ag in hoss !" 
 
 He had no sooner made the agreement than a 
 man rushed up to Thompson and whispered some 
 thing to him which made him start and say, 
 
 " Are you sure of it ?" 
 
 To which the messenger replied, " Sure ? Of 
 course I am ! I just left him." 
 
 At this Thompson smiled, took a pinch of snuff, 
 and remarked to himself, 
 
 " Well, the Lord does at times help a sinner." 
 
 The messenger s errand was soon known, for the 
 word passed from mouth to mouth, 
 
 " The sorrel horse has gone lame ! The sorrel 
 horse has gone lame !" 
 
 At this announcement a groan of lamentation 
 issued from those present, for not only was the race 
 settled, but Kirtley and many of them were going 
 to be losers. 
 
 The crowd surged around the horse, trying to 
 get near him, but were kept back by Uncle Rastus 
 and Manulito. Eph had his lingers in the bridle- 
 ring, and would allow no one to take his place. 
 
 Now it was clear to those present why the horse 
 had not run better in the last heat, for they cried, 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 145 
 
 " He is broken down ! Poor fellow ! Will never 
 run another race !" And innumerable expressions 
 of sympathy and regret were heard on every side. 
 
 The lameness appeared to be either in the left 
 fore-shoulder or left leg, it being impossible to 
 locate it ; but the poor animal limped, and seemed 
 scarcely able to put his foot to the ground. All 
 kinds of remedies were suggested. The shoe was 
 examined, taken off, refitted and put on again, but 
 all to no purpose. Uncle Rastus bound the leg 
 firmly with a flannel bandage. It seemed to relieve 
 the pain, but the relief was only temporary, and 
 the horse limped as badly as before. 
 
 Kirtley was nearly wild, and was bitter in his 
 denunciations of his evil luck. The race had to go 
 on, he knew that. Two heats had been run, one 
 won by each, and the third must be run* also. If 
 his horse could not race, then all bets must follow 
 the winning horse, and all the black horse had to 
 do to be a winner was to walk over the course. He 
 now realized the enormity of his betting, for, like 
 many others who could ill afford it, he had risked 
 more than he was able to lose. He approached the 
 horse, and the sympathetic crowd made an opening 
 for him to get nearer, where he stood like one in 
 a dream, not hearing the pitying remarks of his 
 friends. 
 
 Young Eph and the Indian looked quietly deter 
 mined. ~No one could read the pent-up feelings of 
 the boy, while the Indian was a Stoic, and did not 
 a k 13 
 
146 MANULITO. 
 
 show his thoughts any more than he would have 
 done were he made of marble. 
 
 When Kirtley approached, Uncle Eastus said to 
 him, 
 
 " Char up, Brer Kirtley ! Char up ! We will 
 do de bes we can fo de hoss." 
 
 Kirtley neared them, and speaking in a low voice, 
 just so the trio could hear, said, 
 
 " I hev bet thousands ov dollars on this hoss ! 
 I ve bet cattle, an I ve bet the hoss hisself " 
 
 " Wot s dat yo say, Brer Kirtley ?" said Eph. 
 " Yo bet dis hoss too? An ef I loses de race 
 mus dis hoss, mah Sweet Mahjorum, go way f um 
 heah ?" 
 
 " Yaas ! If yer lose the race the hoss mus go !" 
 
 At this the boy s eyes filled with tears, as he 
 stroked the horse s head. 
 
 The flag now waved for them to get ready for 
 the final heat. It seemed a cruelty to force this 
 noble animal to run in his lame condition, and 
 Kirtley was solicited to withdraw him and forfeit 
 the race. But he declined, saying that Sweet Mar- 
 jorum should go over the course if he had to walk. 
 
 As the horses were uncovered and brought forth, 
 the disparity in their appearance was so great that 
 hundreds of sad hearts noted it. 
 
 The young darky requested that he might take 
 a standing start at the score, and this was allowed. 
 He held his horse sidewise that he might swing 
 him into position. As the black horse wheeled, the 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 147 
 
 young lad raised his hand, signalling he was not 
 ready, and dismounted. He motioned his father 
 and the Indian away, unwrapped the flannel from 
 the horse s leg, and stroked his face affectionately, 
 talking to him in low, musical tones, his words not 
 being distinguishable. The horse replied with a 
 low whinney, and pawed the air with his lame leg. 
 The black horse sprang forward, the sorrel reared 
 and wheeled, the flag dropped. 
 
 " Now, honey !" sharply spoke the boy, and the 
 horse leaped ahead, a perfect start. 
 
 " Look at that sorrel run !" the crowd cried. 
 " But he won t last, the pace is too hot for him. His 
 lame leg will give out I" 
 
 But it had not given out at the half, for the 
 horses were side and side, running faster than ever. 
 The jockey was plying rod and steel to Imp o 
 Darkness, but the sorrel clung to him. 
 
 At the three-quarters pole the black was a nose 
 ahead, but as they entered the home-stretch, young 
 Eph drew a shorter rein, leaned over the sorrel s 
 neck, and sharply spoke, 
 
 " Now, honey, now ! Sugah in de mangah waitin 
 fo yo ! Kun fo mah sake ?" 
 
 A tigress never sprang quicker to the protection 
 of her young than did the sorrel horse at this. 
 He did not seem to run. His feet appeared scarcely 
 to touch the ground, as with tremendous strides 
 he shot forward. The jockey on Imp o Darkness 
 beat and spurred, but to no purpose, for, with his 
 
148 MANULITO. 
 
 great eyes bulging from his head, Sweet Marjorum 
 crossed the line four lengths in advance, in 1.48, 
 with the colored lad looking over his shoulder, 
 and grinning with childish joy at his defeated 
 rival. 
 
 The crowd did not wait for the announcement 
 of time, but rushed in on the track, cheering, 
 wildly cheering, the result of the race. 
 
 The yellow flag shot up, telling them at the start 
 ing-point the result. 
 
 As the horses started, Kirtley stood with open 
 mouth, staring at the spectacle of a lame horse 
 running with such speed ; but before he had time 
 to collect his thoughts the race was run, and his 
 horse was winner. 
 
 Those present seized the colored lad and bore 
 him on their shoulders, cheering again and again 
 for him and for the horse. Kirtley rushed forward, 
 and seizing the young rider by the hand, ex 
 claimed, 
 
 " You re a brick ! Cum down an take yer pick 
 ov ther colts. As the Gov nor ov North Car lina 
 said to the Gov nor ov South Car lina " 
 
 " No you don t !" interrupted Wellington. " Not 
 to-day, Kirtley. I know it s a big day for you, but 
 don t drink any to-day, for my sake, if not your 
 own." 
 
 " All right, Bill, I won t fur your sake ; but ef I 
 was a-goin ter act as I feel like doin , I surely 
 would. " 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 149 
 
 It was a source of great astonishment to all that 
 the horse so speedily recovered from his lameness. 
 But the boy told of their strong attachment, of 
 how he had taught him numerous tricks, this one 
 among others, and that Kirtley had trusted him 
 so much that he wanted to make all the money he 
 could for him. When asked if he had not feared 
 losing the race, he said he never did. 
 
 The first heat he wanted close, and during the 
 running of that ascertained the speed of his com 
 petitor. The second heat he intentionally lost. 
 Then he made the horse walk lame as a surprise, 
 no one but Manulito being aware of what he 
 intended doing. 
 
 " Ah couldn t fo d ter lose," he continued, " caus 
 ef Ah did, mah pet d be taken f um me, an , gem- 
 men, Ah t inks mo ob dat hoss dan any one in dis 
 wuld cept mah ole daddy." 
 
 As the boy disclosed these things he was cheered 
 more than ever, for they were delighted that a mere 
 boy should circumvent a professional gambler and 
 beat him at his own game. 
 
 Thompson and his companions felt unusually sore 
 over their defeat and great losses, but their bohe- 
 mian life had taught them long ago to accept what 
 ever fortune came to them. They had risked all 
 their money and lost, and Thompson remarked, 
 with his cynical smile, 
 
 " We shall have to depend on the generosity of 
 the good citizens of this village to lend us sufficient 
 
 13* 
 
150 MANULITO. 
 
 cash to enable us to reach the borders of our 
 peaceful homes." 
 
 Almost any man would have been discouraged 
 and disheartened after losing as much money as 
 Thompson had on his race-horse. Not so with 
 him. At first he appeared stunned at the result, 
 as he had felt that he was betting on an absolutely 
 sure thing, and the disastrous result was like a 
 stroke of lightning from a clear sky. But he did 
 not spend his time in bemoaning his loss. His 
 money had come easily, and it passed out of his 
 possession without one word of complaint from 
 him. There was no time for sorrow or regret. 
 The fates had been averse to him. The race was 
 fair, he had bet and lost, and, having lost, there 
 was no recourse. But he was a gambler, and life 
 was the same to him whether he won or lost. His 
 roving, wandering existence had converted him into 
 a decided optimist, for he believed that what is was 
 to be, and never murmured at his ill luck. He 
 might be discouraged for the moment, perhaps, but 
 time in its revolutions would make all things right. 
 He had met with financial reverses many times 
 before, but as he always kept in reserve either 
 money, collaterals, or land, he accepted misfortune 
 with astonishing resignation. So it was this day. 
 His rapid imagination speedily concocted a scheme 
 to win back much of the money he had lost. In 
 those early days, as now, there was a fascination 
 about a game of cards that always brought many 
 
THE HORSE-RACE. 151 
 
 men, both young and old, to the table. Men filled 
 with ardor or conceit, oftentimes both, who thought 
 themselves shrewd enough to beat a gambler at his 
 own game. In this village were to be found plenty 
 of this description, only too willing to tempt fortune 
 at the card-table. Thompson knew this, and, with 
 his adherents working with him, it was no difficult 
 matter to arrange a quiet game of faro for the even 
 ing, a game that lasted all night, and which re 
 sulted in the gamblers winning back their losses to 
 a very material extent. But Kirtley was too shrewd 
 for them, and could not be induced to take part in 
 the game. 
 
 The revelries of the day were prolonged far into 
 morning by the many who were fond of dancing, 
 when chanticleer announced the approach of dawn. 
 
 The musicians, tired and sleepy, between dances, 
 suddenly jerked themselves together, and strove, 
 with vigorous raspings, to produce from their vio 
 lins music sharp and inspiring, while the tireless 
 floor-manager called out, in loud voice, 
 
 " Git yer partners fur a cotillion !" or, " Now you 
 fellers git yer gals fur Dan Tucker !" or, when the 
 gentlemen condescended to give the ladies a chance 
 for choice of partners, he would call, "Ladies 
 choice ! Come, girls, snatch some feller an fill 
 the set !" 
 
 The dancing was not according to modern stand 
 ards. There was no walking through a set with 
 listless indifference ; no faint touching of the tips 
 
152 MANULITO. 
 
 of the dancers fingers; no minuets with their 
 graceful movements ; none of the decollete abandon 
 of the modern waltz. But the smooth, planed pine 
 floor coaxed many a nimble foot to greater activity, 
 and the audience was pleased to such an extent that 
 any extra steps, giving variations to the common 
 ones, were always vociferously applauded. 
 
 Finally, the last dance was announced, and at its 
 completion all departed for their homes. Quiet 
 crept over the village, and nothing was heard 
 except the barking of some unsettled house-dog. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 
 
 " The man to solitude accustom d long, 
 Perceives in everything that lives a tongue ; 
 Not animals alone, but shrubs and trees 
 Have speech for him, and understood with ease, 
 After long drought, when rains abundant fall, 
 He hears the herbs and flowers rejoicing all." 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 THE seasons glided quickly by, and "Wellington 
 and his red friend were frequently seen together. 
 A hunt intended by one meant that it would be 
 incomplete without the other. The pressure of 
 business restrained Wellington from participating 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 153 
 
 in many of these excursions, but it only intensified 
 his desire to go, and the time had to be chosen 
 when these hunts would not interfere with his legal 
 duties. 
 
 Manulito was now an honored inmate of his 
 household, for Wellington had told his wife how 
 his life had been saved, and painted with the brush 
 of eloquence the part Manulito played that day at 
 the river. To Wellington s wife Manulito was not 
 
 O 
 
 an Indian, but was the one who had rescued her 
 husband from death, and the feminine kindnesses 
 she knew so well how to show were delicately 
 thrust on the Indian. 
 
 Manulito passed all his time at the home of his 
 friend or in the woods, occasionally with his hound 
 and rifle in pursuit of deer. But oftener, in the 
 summer-time, he was a willing prisoner, as a child 
 ish hand grasped his and tugged hard and strong, 
 beseeching him to go with her to gather the pretty 
 flowers which blossomed so thickly in the meadow- 
 land. His fierce heart was tamed to meek sub 
 mission by the winsome maiden of four, and after 
 they had gathered great bunches of pinks and In 
 dian reds, and the golden lady-slippers, they would 
 seek the shade of some large tree, and the proud, 
 strong man, wrapped in his blanket of fiery red, 
 his childish captor, and her older brother, would 
 sit for hours, the boy listening with feverish excite 
 ment to the Indian s tales of his life in the woods, 
 of his love for the Gray Eagle, and of the great 
 
154 MANULITO. 
 
 chief their father was among his people. The hoy 
 could scarce restrain his enthusiasm, and the most 
 exciting events of the stories were repeated again 
 and again. All this time the little maid seemed 
 lost to her surroundings, and while her brother 
 was being wrought up to a pitch of intense excite 
 ment, she remained indifferent, and with feminine 
 ingenuity arranged little bouquets, displaying to the 
 best advantage the brilliant flowers they so often 
 picked in their wanderings. Manulito had learned 
 from this child to love the flowers as he never did 
 before, and often in his wanderings through the 
 forests and meadows he would stoop and pick 
 some flower, then blow its petals into gentle quiv 
 ering motion, and inhale its fragrance, while his 
 thoughts returned to those excursions so thoroughly 
 enjoyed with this little one and her brother. Then 
 as he held the flower from him and gazed into its 
 depths, its petals were transformed into a childish 
 face with golden hair and laughing eyes, and his 
 eyes assumed their mildest look, for his thoughts 
 were with his heart, and his heart was with the 
 little daughter of his friend, the Gray Eagle. 
 
 They had returned from one of these pleasant 
 excursions on one of the most beautiful days of 
 June, and as they neared the house, Manulito 
 carrying his little friend in his arms, he listened 
 with idolatrous attention to her chattering, while 
 she laughed in childish glee and playfully tapped 
 his face with the pink and purple flowers. 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 155 
 
 The proud Indian was a slave to the caprices of 
 this little one. When in her presence he seemed 
 under mesmeric influence, and she led him into 
 contented captivity. 
 
 He hated the white race. All the wrongs his 
 people had suffered were constantly reverting to 
 his mind. His people were dead, he was alone, 
 and he felt that, with the exception of Wellington 
 and his family, no one cared for him. 
 
 In his excursions he had visited the plains and 
 mountains of the great West. He had gazed across 
 the wide waters of the Pacific Ocean. And when 
 he thought, as he often did, of the encroachments 
 of the whites, who had robbed his people and 
 driven them from the lands they had occupied for 
 generations, and then of the unbounded freedom, 
 the limitless expanse of the plains, the solemn 
 grandeur of the great hills and mountains, he 
 longed to go away and never return. He felt 
 chained and powerless, tied down so that he could 
 not revenge the wrongs inflicted on his race. He 
 lived among those who had won his undying 
 hatred ; yet he knew how he was beloved and re 
 spected by Wellington and his family. And thus 
 he spent his days and nights longing to go, yet 
 restrained by the bonds of love and gratitude. 
 
 The only love he had ever felt for a woman was 
 for his mother. He had lived to see her pass away, 
 in her last moments blessing him with maternal 
 love. He had lived to see his father die, admon- 
 
156 MANULITO. 
 
 ishing him of the folly of resisting the whites, 
 cautioning him to remain their friend and ally, 
 and prophesying the subjection of all Indian tribes. 
 He was born free ; to him the freedom of forest 
 and prairie came as his birthright. He saw this 
 freedom wrested not only from his people but 
 from himself, and, at first, hatred had so taken 
 possession of his heart that he seemed scarce able 
 to control himself. He feared that some time when 
 laboring under the mental strain, caused by his 
 realization of great wrongs, he would commit some 
 act that he would ever after repent. 
 
 But his life with Wellington had opened a new 
 avenue of thought. With gentle simplicity he had 
 been led to the brink of love, where fraternal affec 
 tion had won him, and the bravery of his little 
 charge, the boy who looked to him for everything, 
 who constantly sought his advice on all those points 
 of woodcraft necessary to be learned, who loved to 
 sit and listen to the story of his wanderings, whose 
 suggestions led to a recital of the exciting and in 
 teresting portions of his life, these had all touched 
 him deeply, but none so much as the sweet little 
 maiden, so gentle and confiding, too young for 
 coquetry. She often told him he must love her, 
 " cause she lud him so, and always would." A 
 touch of her hand, the clinging to him as she did, 
 the showing of every little item of interest, the 
 pinning to his blanket of her choicest flowers, all 
 such unsolicited, thoughtful deeds of her innocent 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 157 
 
 love, her childish affection, softened his proud heart, 
 and he feared for her, and loved her more than all 
 the world besides. 
 
 It was a picture to see them together, she clasping 
 his great hand with her tiny one, he, with his mar 
 tial bearing and proud step, lagging behind and 
 keeping pace with her, as she often said, 
 
 " Turn, Manulito, we ll be sojers and march to 
 gether." Then she would mark the time, and they 
 would walk in step, one with the other. 
 
 She always had something new to tell him, and, 
 as he sat beneath some great tree, she nestled close 
 to him, and he was her confidant. A great many 
 secrets she had for him, and as she tossed her golden 
 curls back and looked with her deep-blue eyes into 
 his keen, dark ones, she saw in them only an image 
 of herself, for to her there was no fierceness in his 
 gaze, but in its stead a confiding interest and love. 
 And she it was, above all others, who caused him 
 to delay his going; for the only solace, the only 
 perfect contentment he had, was when in her cheery 
 company. And thus it was that a hatred inherited 
 for generations was first softened, then overthrown 
 by an innocent child. But her influence was like 
 balm to a cruel wound ; her presence removed, he 
 relaxed into bitter thoughts and enmity. This 
 childish love had changed the man, and when in 
 his bitterest moments he resolved to go to the far 
 "West and wage constant war against those who had 
 wronged him so deeply, the sweet innocent face 
 
 14 
 
158 MANULITO. 
 
 always appeared before him, whether he was on 
 the prairie, in the woods, or dreaming at his camp- 
 fire. He tried to shake off this feeling, arguing 
 that she was but a child, and that if she were told 
 of his following the teachings of his race, and 
 waging relentless war against his enemies, she 
 \vould not sorrow over it, but would soon forget. 
 However, he knew that in her little head was con 
 cealed more than childish thoughts, for she often 
 asked questions that astonished them all, and he 
 could not bear the thought of giving her one 
 moment of pain. But though he felt that he must 
 go away, he dreaded the sadness of parting, for it 
 meant the deliberate separation from all that was 
 near and dear to him. And what was he to do in 
 his anticipated home ? That he hardly knew, and 
 little cared. His longing was to go far from the 
 constantly- changing scenes, which warned him that 
 time would soon wipe out all traces of his people. 
 Already game was becoming scarce, and the rifle 
 was fast being thrust aside for the shot-gun. The 
 birds of the prairie, the grouse and quail, which he 
 had always looked on as cheery companions in his 
 hunts, were now being killed for pastime. Many 
 of the old trails were converted into wagon-roads, 
 and the stillness of the woodland was almost con 
 stantly disturbed by noisy, creaking wagons or 
 boisterous teamsters. 
 
 As he and his little charge reached the garden- 
 gate, the girl s brother bounded out, and said, 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 159 
 
 " Why, Manulito, where have you been ? I have 
 been looking all around for you. You promised 
 to go with me to-day and get me a piece of hickory 
 for a bow, and, besides, to teach me how to feather 
 arrows." 
 
 The boy had his hands full of straight pieces of 
 wood, some turkey feathers, and a small bottle of 
 glue, evidently prepared to have his arrows made. 
 
 The mother caught the laughing roll of mischief 
 in her arms, and kissed her again and again, while 
 the Indian and his pupil started towards the woods 
 which bordered the house. The point to which they 
 were going was evidently a try sting-place, and they 
 walked side by side, the boy carrying on a running 
 conversation. He was completely enraptured with 
 hunting, and told how he had been promised a gun 
 on his tenth birthday, how he was going to try to 
 profit by what the Indian and his father had taught 
 him, how he hoped that in years to come he would 
 be as good a shot as they, and concluded by 
 saying, 
 
 " Oh, how I wish, Manulito, that I may live to 
 see what you have seen !" 
 
 " What Manulito has seen ?" quickly responded 
 the Indian. " May the Great Manitou have pity 
 on you, and call you to him before he permits that ! 
 "What Manulito has seen ?" continued he to himself. 
 " I hope your young heart will never suffer as mine 
 has in seeing my people driven from their homes." 
 
 The boy was old enough to know he had touched 
 
160 MANULITO. 
 
 a tender chord, and quickly apologized, declaring 
 that he intended no wrong. 
 
 They soon reached the destined spot, but there 
 were other occupants before them. These were 
 not human beings, but the babbling brook in this 
 sequestered spot was known to bird-life, and they 
 saw a pair of quail, with their downy brood, gently 
 sipping the water as they approached. A sharp 
 chittering by the mother admonished her children 
 of danger, and they scampered into the thick 
 underbrush. 
 
 The Indian and the boy seated themselves beneath 
 the great limb of a magnificent walnut-tree that 
 east its shade for many yards around. The sur 
 roundings had never before seemed so pleasant to 
 the Indian. He had sat beneath this tree scores 
 of times in the spring when the wild pigeons in 
 countless thousands had filled the woods and 
 usurped every tree ; in the summer-time idling the 
 hours away visiting with his young friends ; in the 
 autumn, listening for the gobbler s call; and in 
 wild winter, watching for the deer to approach for 
 its drink. 
 
 As he sat there, the boy respected his silence and 
 busied himself with his arrows, whittling away, in 
 tending that Manulito should suggest the feathering 
 and finishing touches. 
 
 It was mid- afternoon, a time when the day was 
 at its brightest. The silvery clouds floated lazily 
 in the heavens, obscured at times by those of a 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 161 
 
 lower stratum travelling at a greater speed. The 
 wind soughed gently, in musical tones, through the 
 tree-tops, causing them to bend in supple graceful 
 ness at the recurring breezes, which followed one 
 another with sufficient regularity to keep the leaves 
 in constant motion. 
 
 Along the borders of the tiny stream pond-lilies 
 in their snow-white bonnets added variety and 
 beauty to the scene, while the flitting robins, ori 
 oles, thrushes, and red-winged blackbirds darted 
 through the openings in the woods, or favored the 
 visitors with their choicest songs. 
 
 The air was delightful : so pure that every breath 
 inhaled seemed laden with the perfume of forest 
 and meadow. No wonder, then, that Manulito, 
 ardent worshipper of Nature, revelled in the charm 
 of their retreat. He had a vivid imagination and 
 had seen much of life. His was not a religion of 
 books ; he did not worship according to any creed. 
 He felt that if he lived as his father had, according 
 to the teachings of his tribe, committing no crimes, 
 worshipping Nature to the exclusion of all except 
 the ever-living God, whom he recognized in the 
 Great Manitou, then his reward would be everlast 
 ing life. Not a life of ease, of singing, of devo 
 tional exercises, but one whose happiness consisted 
 in always having game and ponies with which to 
 hunt. 
 
 Years before, when he had visited the tribes of 
 the great West, and had acquired their language, 
 i u* 
 
162 MANUL1TO. 
 
 he learned that they anticipated the coming of a 
 Messiah ; that the white race would become extinct, 
 the Indians obtain complete possession of their 
 lands, and game be as plentiful as in bygone years. 
 But, as he saw more of civilization, he realized the 
 impossibility of this, and believed that the Messiah 
 had come, but that it was the Messiah of the whites, 
 and that by His teachings and example He had 
 shown what a Christian s life should be. Manu- 
 lito did not fear death ; he had nothing to live for, 
 and really felt that death was preferable to a life 
 passed in constant misery. Death meant to him 
 simply a transposition of his soul to the Happy 
 Hunting-Grounds, his heaven, where he would 
 be resurrected and live again as he had lived on 
 earth, where sorrow, suffering, and misery would 
 be banished forever, and where, with abundance 
 of game, he could hunt and fish to his heart s 
 content. 
 
 The boy had nearly completed several arrows and 
 finished them according to the suggestions of Man- 
 ulito. They were straight shafts, headless arrows, 
 precision in flight being obtained by reason of the 
 feathered ends. These were made by taking a stiff 
 feather of a turkey s wing, cutting in just above 
 the quill, where the feather peeled off, taking with 
 it a thin slice of the quill. This served as a strip 
 or foundation for cementing it to the shaft. It was 
 then glued to the arrow, and another piece of 
 feather was fastened in like manner directly oppo- 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 103 
 
 site. The feathered strips were securely tied with 
 fine thread for the glue to " set," and the arrow was 
 laid aside to dry, when the feathers were to be 
 deftly trimmed to make the flight of the arrow 
 perfect. 
 
 The boy was so absorbed in his work that he did 
 not think that the small fly which so persistently 
 lit on the rim of his ear, and was as often brushed 
 away, was a straw in the hands of his little sister ; 
 but her merry laugh disclosed her identity, and 
 with it the presence of his father and mother. 
 
 Wellington remarked that he had come home 
 unexpectedly, and as the day was too fine to be 
 spent in-doors, they had hunted up the truants and 
 located them without difficulty. 
 
 As he and his wife seated themselves on the soft 
 greensward, the little girl ran to the Indian, sprang 
 into his lap, settled herself contentedly, and, looking 
 archly up at him, said, 
 
 " Did I hurt you ? If I m too heddy, I won t 
 stay long." 
 
 All laughed at this, and the Indian made no 
 reply, but tenderly twined one of her bright sunny 
 curls around his strong, dark fingers, while his eyes 
 shone with a light that denoted how deeply his 
 heart was touched by this innocent mark of the 
 little one s love and confidence. 
 
 " What a relief this is !" exclaimed Wellington, 
 as he lay supported by his elbow. " To feel that 
 one is absolutely free from the noise and confusion 
 
164 MANVL1TO. 
 
 of the court-room, and away from the jar and 
 clangor, the excitement, the wrangle of every-day 
 life that is thrust upon a successful lawyer. I some 
 times feel utterly disgusted with life. To see what 
 I have seen, friends turned to enemies ! Relatives 
 in the closest degree of consanguinity driven apart 
 because of some difference in money matters ! 
 Then, again, the difficulty of telling which of two 
 witnesses is testifying to the truth ! I have seen 
 such duplicity," continued he, " that I have grown 
 distrustful of a man even under oath. Of course, 
 these are some of the disagreeable features of my 
 profession, and they are more than offset by the 
 delight one feels in being an honest exponent of 
 that which is the foundation of the civilized world ; 
 for the law is founded on truth and right, while 
 equity steps in and corrects that in which the law 
 is deficient, thus guaranteeing to all equal justice 
 and the enforcement of their legal rights. But I 
 don t intend to deliver a legal lecture, for I am 
 happy in being with you this afternoon, Manulito, 
 and I want to enjoy your society. Your race, Man 
 ulito, is one of dreamers. I will not say that you 
 idly dream your time away, but you love to seek 
 the seclusion, the quietude of some such place as 
 this, and spend the time away in some romantic 
 manner. That is how I feel to-day. I would like 
 to wander through the fields of romance, following 
 your trail, you to be my guide, and to disclose to 
 us the many things you saw years ago, when you 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 165 
 
 visited the tribes of the great West. I will be an 
 attentive listener, so will we all ; and I would like 
 to have you tell us what you will of that land, 
 almost unknown, but inhabited by the Indian tribes 
 of many nations." 
 
 " Were Manulito to tell of what he saw and 
 heard, of what he learned, of the many moons he 
 spent among his far-distant friends, the passing day 
 would fall asleep under the mantle of the ap 
 proaching night, and the moon would smile, and 
 the stars glisten above us before the story was half 
 done." 
 
 " I know, Manulito, you have much to relate, 
 but some time ago you promised that you would 
 tell us, and you will never find a better opportunity 
 than now, when we are all here. I would like to 
 have you describe the country, its formation, its re 
 sources, its climate, its hills, mountains, and streams, 
 its customs, game, and possibilities." 
 
 "And I," said the wife, "would like to hear of 
 its people, their progress, their religion, their man 
 ner of worship, their homes, their filial and pa 
 ternal love, their devotion, their nobility of soul, 
 their generosity towards their fellow-men, and 
 whether or not it is true that the wife and mother 
 is subjected to menial service that makes of her a 
 broken-hearted drudge and slave." 
 
 " And I," said the boy, " would like to have you 
 tell of hunting the buffalo and elk, the fights with 
 grizzlies arid mountain-lions, the wars between the 
 
166 MANULITO. 
 
 tribes, and all about the braves who delighted to 
 fight, and didn t fear anybody; and all about their 
 dogs and their ponies, and everything that you 
 would like to have told you by a brave man that 
 had seen it all, that is, if you were a boy eight 
 years old and about my size." 
 
 At this sweeping request all joined in a hearty 
 laugh. Then Wellington turned to the little girl 
 and asked her what she would like to have Manulito 
 tell a story about. At this she ran to her father, 
 twined her plump arms around his neck, kissed 
 him repeatedly, and exclaimed, 
 
 " I don t care ! He can tell what he has a mind 
 to, and I ll just lud you." 
 
 Manulito saw the impossibility of complying with 
 the requests of all, and said, 
 
 " Were Manulito to tell of all that is asked, his 
 story would become tiresome because of its length. 
 He will tell then, in part, of what he saw on his 
 visit to the great hills." 
 
 As he prepared to commence, his quick ear heard 
 a musical tinkle. The others caught it, the sub 
 dued chords of a banjo. Then there issued through 
 the woods strains that caused the birds to twitter 
 and sing in louder tones, as if to welcome their 
 serenaders in this their bowery home. 
 
 They recognized the voices as those of Uncle 
 Rastus and Eph. Their song was a plantation 
 melody, of that bright character that caused the 
 listeners eyes to sparkle with delight. 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 167 
 
 The singers then changed their theme to a sere 
 nade. Eph sang in his clear, pure soprano, while 
 his father modulated his tenor voice into a full and 
 mellow alto. 
 
 There was a charm about their singing which 
 only those present could realize. The serenaders 
 were hidden from view, and the wind blowing so 
 gently through the forest helped to soften the tones, 
 now subduing, now wafting in fullest volume to the 
 listeners the words and music of the songs. 
 
 "Wellington and his wife were excellent judges 
 of music, and as the singers voices floated smoothly 
 from majors to minors, they sat listening with 
 pleasure to each recurring note. 
 
 There is a power about music that carries one 
 insensibly with its tones, whether it be to quicken, 
 or to soothe and calm the feelings; and to those 
 who listened, one of the chief charms was the in 
 visibility of the singers. There was a delightful 
 uncertainty as to their whereabouts, which aroused 
 curiosity, and made more pleasing the songs which 
 drifted from their hiding-place. 
 
 At the conclusion of the second song the singers 
 stepped into view, and were received with generous 
 and continuous clapping of hands. The darkies 
 faces were wreathed in smiles, for they saw their 
 impromptu singing was a complete surprise and 
 was received with delight. 
 
 " Where in the world did you two come from ?" 
 inquired Wellington. 
 
1(58 MANULITO. 
 
 " Jus f um home, Mars Wellington ! Jus f um 
 home !" replied the elder. " Yo see me an Eph 
 foun a bee tree, an ter-day Ah lowed we would 
 take de missus some honey, yer it is in dis yer 
 bucket. Ah tole Eph e done bettah take is 
 banjo, caus w y de chillun mought like ter heah 
 ? m play de * Debbie s Dream or de Money Musk, 
 or de missus hear m sing. So we lowed we d go 
 froo de woods. We heard yo voices, an jus ser - 
 naded yo . But> golly ! Ah was orful skeered feer 
 yo would heah or see us, an den yo wouldn t be 
 s prised." 
 
 " You re just in time," exclaimed Wellington, 
 " for Manulito is going to tell us of his wander 
 ings. Sit down and listen. Now, Manulito," said 
 he, " we are ready." 
 
 The Indian looked thoughtfully at the ground 
 for an instant, and then began, 
 
 " In dreary days and sleepless nights the time of 
 Manulito was passed away, this was many moons 
 ago, for in the daytime he wandered through the 
 fields and forests, and at night he laid his tired body 
 to rest, seeking the peaceful sleep, the renewed life 
 which did not come. His bed was the dry leaves, 
 his covering his blanket; but far above all was 
 the star-lit sky, which always looked down on him. 
 Occasionally he drifted into forgetfulness ; but it 
 was for a short time only, for with the closing of 
 his eyelids his soul passed into another land, and 
 sweet refreshing sleep was banished. Manulito 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 169 
 
 dreamed, ever dreamed of a far-distant land where 
 the white man did not live; where the Indians had 
 complete possession of the earth, and roamed and 
 fished and hunted to their heart s desire. In this 
 manner the time slowly glided away, but the heart 
 of Manulito was sad, for he longed to visit this un 
 known country. The spirit of unrest seized upon 
 him, and one time when the spring had come, 
 bathing the earth with melting snow and warm, 
 gentle rains, and the buds were bursting on the 
 trees, and the seeds were swelling in the ground, 
 the robins and bluebirds, as they sang their song, 
 seemed to tell Manulito to go and see this land in 
 the distant West and learn of its people. So one 
 night when the world was asleep Manulito, guided 
 by the North Star, started on his journey to the 
 West, to the land of the setting sun. His was not 
 a journey with many people, for he travelled alone. 
 Not that he was without friends, for through each 
 and every day the flowers brightened his pathway, 
 and the birds sang to him. At night he slept as 
 he had never slept before, in sweet, sound slumber, 
 listening to the song of the whip-poor-will and the 
 mellow hooting of the horned-owl ; for he felt that 
 the Great Spirit approved of his journey, and would 
 watch over him and protect him. 
 
 " The days glided quickly by, for Manulito did 
 
 not feel lonely. Was he not born in the woods ? 
 
 Yfas not his whole life spent amid such scenes as 
 
 these? The noise of the city was never heard 
 
 H 15 
 
170 MANULITO. 
 
 where Manulito was; but instead, the singing of 
 birds, the whistling of the quail, the drumming of 
 the grouse, the cooing of the doves, the tinkling of 
 the brooks, the murmuring of the streams and 
 waterfalls, bringing the most delicious music to 
 the ears of him who lived in the open air and 
 called the prairies and the woodlands his home." 
 
 " Weren t you afraid of getting lost or of being 
 killed?" inquired the boy. 
 
 "Afraid of getting lost?" replied the Indian, 
 with an incredulous smile. "Afraid of getting 
 lost ? Does the eagle lose its way when it pierces 
 the clouds through the limitless sky, or the elk as 
 it traverses the pathless woods, or the wolf in its 
 tireless runs over hills and prairies ? Or does the 
 wild goose lose its way when on its flights each half- 
 year, or the fish in the deep and winding streams ? 
 And by the same unerring instinct which the Great 
 Spirit has given to these Manulito, too, was guided ; 
 nor was there with him the fear of death ; his rifle 
 protected him from the wild beasts ; his skill, from 
 his enemies. And if he were killed," continued 
 he, thoughtfully, " what of it ? A man should be 
 happy to meet death while doing what the Great 
 Spirit intended he should, for death does not take 
 from him his existence, but carries him to another 
 world, where he resumes the unfinished work of this. 
 
 " After Manulito had travelled many days the 
 land changed. He climbed great ragged bluffs, 
 whose bare sides facing the west, and unprotected 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 171 
 
 by trees, had been burnt by the summer s sun. 
 Such was the spot where Manulito stood and gazed 
 afar over the bottom-lands, into the winding river, 
 the swift-running, the ever-changing Missouri. 
 Here he looked across into the land of the Omahas, 
 a quiet people with whom he dwelt a welcome 
 guest for many days. 
 
 " After Manulito left the Omahas, he visited the 
 Loups and the Pawnees, the Arapahoes and the 
 Sioux. As he wandered towards the setting sun 
 the trees disappeared, and as far as he could see 
 were vast plains of waving grass, at whose outer 
 edges the sun rose in the morning and sank to 
 rest at the approach of night. The Great Spirit 
 had been generous with his people here, for the 
 plains were blackened here and there with herds 
 of buffaloes or brightened with curious, timid an 
 telope. And still," he continued, in deep contem 
 plation, " the white man had been there, for the 
 iron shoe of his horse had made impress on the 
 soil, and the wheels of his wagon had creased the 
 rank grass. Like the serpent that steals in to bite 
 and sting and leave misery in its trail, so will the 
 white man always prove to the Indian race. They 
 came with smiling faces and deceitful hearts to 
 rob those whose fathers had lived on these lands 
 for generations. There was no misery, no want, 
 no suffering among the tribes until they were 
 cursed by the presence and the fire-water of these 
 white trespassers. They were happy in their free- 
 
172 MANULITO. 
 
 dom, their love of hunting, the abundance of game, 
 their traditions, their religion. But the whites 
 came with a Bible in one hand, a rifle in the other, 
 and the Indian lost his home, his standing, his 
 independence, forever." 
 
 The bitterness of his tones conveyed to his 
 hearers the deep hatred that dwelt in Manulito s 
 heart towards the white race. 
 
 " And yet," continued he, " they blame the In 
 dian for his cruelty. It is his mode of warfare to 
 severely punish his enemy, in order that by the 
 death of one the many may take warning and 
 avoid him. Is he to be blamed that he strikes for 
 his liberty, his home, his wife, his children ? Can 
 you say that he loves all these less because the 
 Great Spirit made his skin red instead of white ? 
 And if even the animals, the bears, the wolves, the 
 dogs, ay, even the tiny wren, will protect their 
 young, will fight for their homes, would not the 
 Indian be lower than these beasts if he, endowed 
 with reason, with strength, with weapons, stood 
 still and saw his home despoiled, his father mur 
 dered, his children scattered ? Would not the In 
 dian be less than human if he refused to punish 
 those who thus injured him ?" 
 
 As Manulito paused for breath, his eyes flashed 
 and his breast heaved in great excitement. Wel 
 lington appreciated his feelings, and sympathized 
 with him, but he desired to change the tenor of 
 the story, and said, 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 173 
 
 " Manulito, I understood from what you once said 
 to me that you settled among the warlike Sioux." 
 
 The Indian stared at the speaker for an instant, 
 then collecting his thoughts and apparently regret 
 ting his violent language, said, 
 
 " The Gray Eagle is right : Manulito visited many 
 tribes, but his youthful spirit was like the Sioux . 
 This was before Manulito had lost his hand. He 
 lived with them for many moons, and among all 
 the tribe there was none fleeter of foot, none so 
 sure with the arrow or rifle, as Manulito. They 
 invited him to remain and become one of them. 
 He fought with them, and so pleased were they 
 that they made him a chief, and he has promised to 
 return to them some day. From them he learned 
 many things. He joined in their war-dances, the 
 Sun-Dance, the Corn-Dance, the Buffalo-Dance, the 
 Ghost-Dance. He learned that the customs of these 
 people were those of his people ; that good deeds 
 were rewarded and evil ones punished; brave 
 warriors admired and praised and cowards made 
 squaws of as in his own tribe. They told Manulito 
 of a Messiah that would come to earth, and that 
 this Messiah would be for the Indians. And this 
 is what they said and believe : 
 
 " Years ago, when these trees which now shelter 
 us were saplings and seedlings, when herds of deer 
 were ever to be found, when the Indian roved over 
 this whole land, taking what he needed, but never 
 injuring the supply, there came to the far East 
 
 15* 
 
174 MANULITO. 
 
 winged canoes filled with men. While these men 
 were strange in appearance, pale as if they had 
 never faced the sun in his noonday anger, or the 
 wind in his wild wanderings, still they were re 
 ceived with all kindness by the tribes that dwelt 
 near the ever-living waters. These men had ways 
 as strange as were their faces, for though they 
 had been received with all the kindness of a sim 
 ple people, still, with no regrets, they broke their 
 treaties and promises with the Indians. What 
 chance had a people armed only with arrows and 
 war-clubs against such beings as these? It was 
 of no use now to try to drive them away. Like 
 leeches they clung to this rich land upon which 
 they had fastened themselves. The pale-faces did 
 not depart, but it came about, little by little, that 
 those who had received them with open arms 
 were driven from their accustomed haunts. 
 
 "Who can tell how? But true it is that the 
 story of the terrible deeds of these pale-faces soon 
 came, no one knew from whence, to distant tribes. 
 Perhaps the breeze that filled the woodlands brought 
 it, or the birds as they returned in the spring. Then 
 came surer tidings from those who had seen these 
 strange men, and who had been driven from their 
 homes. And at last, as they had been warned, 
 came the intruders themselves. Their ways were 
 pleasant and their words as sweet as the sap of the 
 maple in the spring-time. 
 
 " After many moons there appeared a deliverer 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANVLITO. 175 
 
 to the red men, who came as silently as the green 
 leaves in spring-time. From tribe to tribe, from 
 nation to nation, he went, imploring them to resist 
 the advances of the white men while yet there was 
 time. 
 
 " This prophet related all the events that would 
 come to pass were not the strangers driven away. 
 Already, said he, is the Great Manitou dis 
 pleased; for, see, the plains which he has made 
 beautiful with waving grass and nodding flowers 
 they have invaded. With their strange tools they 
 have torn the grass from the earth, leaving it 
 brown and bare, and they have sowed seed, and 
 the ground is covered with plants which were not 
 intended for this country. He is not pleased that 
 his work should be disturbed, and, as a punish 
 ment, he will drive away the game which has 
 hitherto been so plentiful. 
 
 " But the words of the wise man were unheeded, 
 and when he found that it was in vain he labored, 
 he vanished with the leaves in the autumn, as 
 silently as he had come. 
 
 " He told them that the Great Father was dis 
 pleased with them because they had not answered 
 when called, and that now he would leave them to 
 their own devices until they were ready to accept 
 the things that were done for their good. He 
 would go, but he would come again when they 
 most needed him. He taught them strange dances 
 and ceremonies for the different seasons, and told 
 
176 MANULITO. 
 
 them that when the time was come for the new 
 Leader to appear, signs would be given them. 
 Then should they practise, night and day, these 
 things that he had appointed. By their faithful 
 ness in this matter the time of their waiting would 
 be shortened, for by these dances they would be 
 come brave men, and it pleases not the Great 
 Manitou to keep brave men in sorrow. His teach 
 ings are followed, and the Sun-Dance which he in 
 stituted has made the bravest warriors that have 
 ever been known. 
 
 " Among other things, this prophet told them of 
 a Messiah who had been sent to the white man, but 
 who had not been accepted by them. He had 
 been mistreated and put to death, so that on his 
 return to earth the next time he would come as a 
 Messiah to the red men, and would show his dis 
 pleasure against the white race by driving them 
 from the country. 
 
 " When the invaders learned of the faith of the 
 Indians, they laughed at their beliefs and ridiculed 
 them in every way; but the Indian s religion is 
 as sacred to him as is Christianity to the white 
 man." 
 
 " I agree with you there, Manulito," interrupted 
 Wellington. " There is but one true religion, that 
 is the worship of the ever-living God. Every na 
 tion has its manner of worship, but it all tends to 
 the same end, everlasting life in the presence of 
 the Creator. How that can best be obtained is a 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 177 
 
 question which will always be a subject of dispute. 
 The Catholics, the Presbyterians, the Methodists, 
 each sect regards its form -of worship as the right 
 one ; but although the outward showing of their 
 religion is different, the desire for the ultimate end 
 is the same with them all. The Messiah of the 
 white man appeared, he was crucified, and arose 
 from the dead. But he is not the one whom all 
 nations desire, or, I would better say, accept, and, 
 therefore, the Jews look for the coming of their 
 Messiah, the Christians for their Christ, the savages 
 for their Mahdi, and the legends of the sleep of 
 the German Emperor Frederick and the Welsh 
 King Arthur tell of others who anticipated similar 
 events. I respect the religion of every man and 
 every nation when the devotee follows his convic 
 tions devoutly and conscientiously; for while we 
 all claim to be right in our views, we cannot say 
 that others are altogether wrong, and I have the 
 utmost reverence for a religion which has been ac 
 cepted for generations by the Indians, which has 
 existed for ages, and has passed down from father to 
 son without question. They have the same right to 
 believe in the coming of a Messiah, to expect the 
 redress of their wrongs and the reward for their 
 steadfastness, as the white men have. Both have 
 a religion of faith, an element which is essential 
 in every belief which promises a future reward. 
 While I do not agree with the red men, still I am 
 glad to hear of their beliefs and their expectations, 
 
 m 
 
178 MANULITO. 
 
 and in me and mine you have not only willing but 
 sympathetic listeners." 
 
 The Indian s glance conveyed his thanks for the 
 kindly words, and he continued, 
 
 " One day, after the departure of their would-be 
 deliverer, an old Indian, who had lived far beyond 
 the greatest age ever attained by one of his tribe, 
 fell asleep. He slept for hours, the hours lengthened 
 into days, and still he did not waken. All thought 
 he was dead, but the medicine-men said he was 
 alive but sleeping. At last he awoke, and, calling 
 all the men of his tribe together, said, 
 
 " Be not fearful ! I have been in the land of the 
 blessed. Call the nation together, that I may tell 
 them what I have seen and heard. My body was 
 with you, but my spirit was in another land, a land 
 where buffalo and ponies were so plenty that they 
 scarce found room to graze. As I looked with de 
 light on the scenes in this newly-discovered country, 
 the spirits who were my guides spoke to me. Their 
 voices were low and soft and sweet, and they said 
 that the Great Spirit is angry with us, and that 
 unless we refrain from wickedness He will destroy 
 us, and we shall never see that beautiful land. But 
 if we follow his commands He will ever look kindly 
 on the red men, and will sweep the white men from 
 the continent. They promised that we should 
 always have plenty of game, and that the white 
 men should never be seen again ; that the Indians 
 who were dead should be restored to life, and the 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 179 
 
 body of every dead white man be changed to a 
 buffalo. These spirits then said that we must dance 
 till the coming of our Messiah, the Ghost-Dance, 
 the Fire-Dance, and the Sun-Dance. 
 
 " But why were they to dance ?" interrupted the 
 boy. " Couldn t they fight or do something besides 
 dancing? I don t see how dancing made them 
 fearless." 
 
 To which Manulito replied, " Dancing is a part 
 of the Indian s religion. He dances when he re 
 joices and when he mourns, when he starts on the 
 war-path and when he returns, and he shows his 
 penitence by self-torture in these ceremonies. When 
 he has danced a long time and his heart is warmest, 
 his body is on earth, but in his mind he sees a 
 picture of spirit-land, and talks with his friends 
 who are dead. At one time a prophet said he had 
 been visited by a person who had been dead for 
 years, and this person came to him and gave him 
 a piece of fat buffalo-meat. The next night the 
 prophet stepped into the circle of the dance bearing 
 a wooden platter full of meat. He called up the 
 dancers, there were more than a hundred of them, 
 and after all had eaten the platter was more than 
 half full." 
 
 " But tell us of the Sun-Dance !" exclaimed Wel 
 lington. 
 
 " One of the ceremonies in which the Indians 
 participated when they expected the coming of the 
 Messiah," said Manulito, " is the Sun-Dance. They 
 
180 MANUL1TO. 
 
 were not obliged to take part in this, but all Indians 
 want to be considered warriors, and they are always 
 anxious to prove their bravery. Joining in the 
 Sun-Dance is the most severe test they have. When 
 they are ready to begin, old warriors attach long 
 strings of rawhide to the centre pole of a wigwam. 
 The breast of the Indian is cut and pieces of wood 
 thrust through the opening; the long strings of 
 rawhide are tied to these, and, facing the sun, while 
 they all sing their low chants, the brave dances and 
 swings his body, trying to tear himself loose. This 
 cannot be done for hours. Sometimes he faints, 
 but he does not yield, and tugs and pulls until he 
 snaps the sinews of his own breast. Then he is 
 free, and is received as a warrior, ever afterwards 
 wearing deep scars of his torture. All the time he is 
 trying to break loose he shows no sign of pain, nor 
 sighs, nor groans, but swings and throws his weight 
 against the cords until the flesh gives way. He can 
 be set free any time if he asks it ; but then he is 
 called a squaw-man and cannot fight with warriors. 
 " When Manulito was with his red friends he 
 saw much that was new to him, for his tribe had 
 been subdued by the whites when he was a child, 
 and these strange customs brought back to him 
 what his father had often told him of the bravery, 
 the cunning, and the wild life of a free Indian. But 
 the days slipped swiftly by, and Manulito wandered 
 farther towards the land of the setting sun. As 
 the days grew longer, he rested in the shadows of 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 
 
 the great rocks and trees, and journeyed at night, 
 guided by the light of the moon and the path 
 pointed out by the Great and Little Bear and the 
 Pole Star. It seemed now as if Manulito was in 
 another land, for the scenes of his boyhood were 
 gone. The rolling prairies were no more ; the deer 
 had changed; the grouse were wearing coats of 
 blue ; the hills had grown into mountains, where 
 the sun smiled warmly in the valleys, and the peaks 
 were white in their robes of snow. The quail of 
 the Mississippi Valley had disappeared, and in their 
 stead the bushes were alive with crested quail, which 
 ran and chatted, waving their long topknots as 
 they hid from view. Beautiful flowers, far more 
 handsome than Manulito had ever seen before, 
 blossomed everywhere, and the trees had grown to 
 such a height that they seemed to reach the clouds, 
 while one of them was larger than any fifty that 
 he had ever seen before. < This, thought Manulito, 
 1 is Paradise, the Happy Hunting-Grounds, for 
 no other world could be brighter, no air purer, no 
 forest more beautiful than this. 
 
 " In a few days he sat and looked far away to 
 where the sun was just going to rest, it seemed as 
 far from him as ever. Manulito could go no farther, 
 for he sat on the shore, as the day went to rest, and 
 he saw the sun sink into the Pacific Ocean. The 
 waters rippled, showing rainbow-colors, while the 
 sky, blushing from the kisses of the sun, was radiant 
 with shadings of rose and white and gold. 
 
 16 
 
182 MANULITO. 
 
 " But the night is coming on, and we must go. 
 The day is nearly gone, and soon the dew will fall 
 as the sun sinks behind the hills." 
 
 " Go on, Manulito ! Go on !" exclaimed Wel 
 lington. " We are not weary of your story, and 
 the night is hours away. But perhaps you are 
 tired of talking, tired of telling us of your life." 
 
 " Manulito tired ?" queried he. " No ! no ! He 
 could sit and talk of his life not only for hours but 
 for days, and it would but make him the happier, 
 for Manulito has no friends, he has no home, except 
 here. His life is like a dream, it has been and is 
 not. When he questions the reality his senses 
 seem to desert him. He loves to sit where he can 
 breathe the pure air of heaven, and sleep and 
 dream forgetting the sad past and hoping for a 
 brighter future. This is a beautiful spot, and here 
 Manulito, when tired of the world, has often come 
 and rested, listening to the sweet songs of the birds 
 or gazing at the floating clouds, idly dreaming the 
 time away. But there is one spot made holy to 
 him, because it is his mother s grave, that is dearer 
 than this. Away up on the bluffs, where from their 
 majestic heights he can look down over the tall 
 tree-tops into the fertile bottom-lands of the Missis 
 sippi, where the living world looks into the calm 
 mirror of waters and sees the reflection of its thou 
 sand trees, where islands in their green suits are 
 bound by the running river, where the meadows 
 nestle between the groves of elm and willow, where 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 183 
 
 bluffs in broken ledges pierce the sky, that is the 
 spot which Manulito loves best of all. But why 
 talk of this ? It is time to go." 
 
 At this they rose, and as they wended their way 
 homeward a silence fell upon them all. Welling 
 ton felt that it would be but a short time before the 
 spirit of unrest would seize upon the Indian, and 
 he would leave them, perhaps forever. He knew 
 the war that was raging in Manulito s heart, his de 
 sire to leave these scenes of past sorrow, his wish to 
 go where he could try to bury the past and begin life 
 anew, and he did not intend to urge him to remain. 
 He had sometimes wondered at the strong friend 
 ship which existed between them. But Welling 
 ton had seen much of the world, and was broad 
 and liberal in his views. He was a physiognomist, 
 and had that keen perception which reads one s 
 thoughts during an apparently rambling conversa 
 tion. He had seen the glitter of the world, the de 
 ceit of individuals, and experience had taught him 
 an invaluable lesson, how to separate the dross from 
 the pure. Thus it was that with him time served to 
 strengthen and deepen the regard he had for Manu 
 lito, for in him he found both a friend and a brother. 
 The blood of consanguinity did not flow in their 
 veins, but the bond of sympathy, of respect, of 
 pure love, held sway in their hearts. It was sel 
 dom that their mutual affection found vent in words, 
 but whether in the woods or at home, their eyes 
 never met without speaking for them the love they 
 
184 MAXULITO. 
 
 bore for each other. Wellington knew that be 
 neath the swarthy skin of Manulito there beat as 
 true a heart as man ever possessed. He had taken 
 great delight in teaching the Indian, for he was not 
 only a willing but a brilliant pupil. His mind was 
 one of vast resources : his thoughts were poetical, 
 and his life infused into his mind and heart those 
 rare virtues learned only by those who have associ 
 ated with Xature in all her moods. His voice was 
 melodious, and when he talked his face expressed 
 the feelings he sought to convey, and it was like en 
 joying the sweetest music to listen to him. He was 
 a natural orator, like many of his race ; his inspira 
 tion came from his love for out-of-door life, and 
 when he spoke, the earth, the sky, the water, the 
 seasons, and animated Xature served to illustrate 
 his thoughts. He had for years been brought into 
 contact with the whites, and had acquired their 
 language, speaking it fluently; their words helped 
 him to express himself, but his manner of speech 
 was entirely individual. As Wellington said, k * Man- 
 ulito s speech is like a rivulet of water. It flows 
 gently, carrying one with it, until its musical tones 
 thrill through the listener." 
 
 And Manulito was an equally ardent admirer of 
 Wellington. He loved him with all the strength of 
 his flerce, wild nature. It was a passionate love, 
 founded on gratitude, and graven deeply on his 
 heart by reason of continued and unsolicited kind 
 nesses. His friendship for Wellington had con- 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 185 
 
 stantly increased because of the latter s brilliancy 
 and learning. Although the event was never men 
 tioned between them, yet Manulito often thought 
 of the time he had fired at Wellington in the forest, 
 and though he knew he had long since been for 
 given, he yet craved opportunities to prove his re 
 pentance and his love. He would have been glad 
 at any time to lay down his life for his friend, and 
 his only regret would have been that he could no 
 longer show his affection. 
 
 As they sat at the supper-table that night, Wel 
 lington, who was usually the soul of mirth, and 
 seemed to have a never-ending fund of jollity upon 
 which to draw, was disinclined to talk, and the 
 others caught his mood, so that the meal was eaten 
 in comparative silence. 
 
 When the children were ready for bed, Manulito 
 watched their every motion. After they had kissed 
 their papa and mamma good-night, the little girl 
 kneeled down, clasped her hands, and with upraised 
 eyes concluded her prayer with the words " and 
 God bless Manulito and keep him well." This 
 evidence of childish affection almost unmanned 
 him, and as she put her arms around his neck, 
 he buried his strong face in her sunny curls to 
 hide his emotion. Then he showered kisses on 
 her neck, her forehead, her hair, until she said to 
 him, 
 
 u Who has hurt you, Manulito ? Your eyes look 
 as if you had been crying." 
 
 16* 
 
186 MANULITO. 
 
 Her father understood all, and tenderly taking 
 her in his arms, carried her to bed. 
 
 When the hoy came to say " good-night," Manu- 
 lito was himself again, and, stroking the lad s brown 
 hair, said, 
 
 " The years will glide quickly by. They will be 
 years of joy and sorrow. The Great Spirit has 
 blessed you with a kind father and mother. From 
 your mother s daily life you will gain lessons that 
 you will never forget, for from her you will learn 
 to pity the unfortunate, to sympathize with the 
 afflicted, to help the poor, to aid the sick, to lead 
 such a life that the world will be benefited because 
 you have lived ; for the Great Spirit has been gen 
 erous to her, and has given her all those virtues 
 which make her presence as welcome as the warm 
 sunshine is to the sick-room. 
 
 " And your father, you will always love him, for 
 he is wise and good. In after-years, when you be 
 come a man, the most pleasant words that can reach 
 your ears will be those that tell you that you are 
 like your father. You love your parents now, but 
 time alone can teach you the depths of that love ; 
 for, when they are dead and you stand at their 
 graves, a voice will come to you from the heavens 
 where they will live again, reminding you of your 
 kindness, and accusing you of every unkind word 
 or deed of yours that ever brought a pang of sor 
 row to their hearts. Then love and respect your 
 parents. Honor your father and mother. For no 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF 1MANULITO. 187 
 
 success you can attain in this life will console you 
 for any act which brings sorrow to them." 
 
 The boy looked in astonishment at Manulito, for 
 while he had occasionally received advice from him r 
 he had never heard him speak in this way, and he 
 said, wonderingly, 
 
 " Are you sick ?" 
 
 " No," replied Manulito. 
 
 " Are you going away ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Never mind asking questions, son," said "Wel 
 lington. " It is time for you to retire." 
 
 The boy looked interrogatively first at one then 
 at the other, gave Manulito s arm a squeeze, and 
 left the room. 
 
 They sat in silence a few moments, each appar 
 ently waiting for the other to speak, when Welling 
 ton said, 
 
 "We are not blind, Manulito, and we can see 
 that you have made up your mind to leave this 
 place, but the time of your departure we know 
 not." 
 
 "To-night!" exclaimed Manulito. 
 
 " And where are you going ?" 
 
 " To the mountains and the prairies. To 
 live again the life the Great Spirit intended for 
 me." 
 
 Wellington arose, walked slowly across the room, 
 turned, and, facing the Indian, said, 
 
 " We have known each other so long that I un- 
 
188 MANULITO. 
 
 derstand why you leave us, and I do not blame you 
 for going. You know that in this house you are 
 as welcome as my own brother. There is nothing 
 that I could do for him which I would not do for 
 you. When we part with you it will be with sad 
 hearts; but we will hope that in years to come 
 your thoughts will turn this way, and your love for 
 us, for our old hunting-grounds, for that sacred 
 spot where rests your dear, dead mother, will touch 
 the tender chords of your heart, and you will come 
 back to us. But I can t say more, my heart is too 
 full for speech." And Wellington bit his lips to 
 suppress his emotion. Manulito concealed his own 
 grief, and without a semblance of pain, a tremor 
 of voice, looked tenderly at Wellington and his 
 wife, and replied, 
 
 " All that is near and dear to Manulito is in this 
 house, and when he thinks of leaving here it seems 
 as if he were going to tear himself from his world. 
 When first he came here he was like a ship without 
 a rudder, drifting before the wind. He lived, not 
 that life seemed worth the living, but because he 
 had dared death many times, and it never came. 
 His heart was fierce ; he hated all men, and lived 
 only for revenge. But by your hands the wounds 
 of many years have been healed, and this spot has 
 become sacred to him. At first his heart failed to 
 receive the impress of loving acts, and when he 
 realized your kindness his life seemed a dream too 
 strange to be true. His brother has been so kind 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 189 
 
 that the Great Spirit will bless him for it. Manulito 
 has not deserved all this, he did not expect it, 
 and many times kind words and generous acts have 
 been like drops of molten lead poured into his heart. 
 He had always thought that the time would never 
 come when his hatred would cease towards a single 
 member of the white race. But the deep interest 
 you have taken in him you with whom Manulito- 
 has lived, you who have clothed and fed him has. 
 made his heart yours and not his own. 
 
 " But he is going away. And why not ? He can 
 do nothing here. Then let him go, carrying with 
 him your best wishes and your prayers, and know 
 that the lessons he has learned from you will not 
 be forgotten. He goes to live the life of a free 
 man. His home will be the boundless prairies,, 
 where he will hunt the buffalo ; he will war with 
 the enemies of his adopted tribe, and for the sake 
 of the love he bears you all he will never raise his 
 hand against a woman or a child. He will be happy 
 on the great prairies, and his deeds shall win the 
 praises of his adopted tribe. At night, tired from 
 hunting, or from his wars with his enemies, he will 
 sleep sweetly with the stars shining above him, and 
 in dreams he will be with you and the little ones,, 
 hunting with you, his brother, or gathering flowers, 
 in the valley with the child he loves. And per 
 haps some day you will hear of a strange warrior,, 
 of one who feared not death, one whose name struck 
 terror to his enemies, and then, if they tell you 
 
190 MANULITO. 
 
 aright, they will say that he was fair in war, and, 
 although an Indian, was merciful to all. And this 
 will please you, for you will know that Manulito s 
 heart did not forget its love for you. And then, 
 perhaps, we will meet again. You will not stay 
 here long, for this is no place for Manulito s brother ; 
 the field is not large enough. But when you live 
 in a great city, will you not sometimes think of 
 Manulito ? Manulito the Indian ! A savage, per 
 haps, and yet he loves you better than man will 
 ever love you again. And when, at times, the Gray 
 Eagle sits in his office, he will let his thoughts 
 wander to the Wapsie, to the bottoms where he 
 and Manulito have so often hunted and slept to 
 gether. And when Manulito strikes down a buffalo 
 or a deer, or camps beside some beautiful stream, 
 he will think of the Gray Eagle, and his only regret 
 will be that his brother is not with him, for without 
 him the pleasures of the woods will be but half 
 enjoyed. But the moon is at its greatest height, 
 the stars warn Manulito to start, and as he goes he 
 prays that the Great Spirit will shower his blessings 
 on this house." 
 
 As he said this, he advanced to Mrs. Wellington 
 and knelt before her. She placed her hand on his 
 head, and in a voice broken with emotion ex 
 claimed, 
 
 " May God bless you, and so direct your steps, 
 Manulito, that those with whom you dwell will be 
 blessed by your coming !" 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF MANULITO. 191 
 
 Wellington could not speak, but grasped the 
 Indian s outstretched hand, and they all walked 
 out of the house. As they did, a horse neighed to 
 them, and Wellington said, 
 
 " Manulito, you know that horse. I bought him 
 from Kirtley, and he is young, fleet of foot, cour 
 ageous, and tireless. Take him. And may he be 
 the means of lightening your journey and giving 
 you pleasure." 
 
 As he concluded, Uncle Rastus, who had been 
 passing with the horse, stepped forward, placed 
 the reins in Manulito s hands, and Imp o Darkness 
 had a new owner. Manulito bowed his thanks, 
 sprang on the horse s back, said a last good-by, 
 and rode slowly away. 
 
 The night was beautiful, and Wellington watched 
 the retreating figures as they threaded in and out 
 between the trees. Then they disappeared for an 
 instant, but in a moment were again visible on a 
 knoll where horse and rider were sharply outlined 
 against the sky. Manulito must have known that 
 his friend was still watching, for he paused an 
 instant with arm uplifted, waving a last farewell, 
 and then disappeared over the brow of the hill. 
 Wellington stood as if in a trance, looking with 
 strained eyes, but Manulito was gone. Then his 
 wife said, 
 
 " Come, Will ! Come !" 
 
 He looked at her, and said, in a voice trembling 
 with emotion, 
 
192 MANUL1TO. 
 
 " There goes the truest heart that ever beat. 
 God bless him ! God bless him !" 
 
 Then nervously clutching his wife by the arm, 
 he walked unsteadily into the house. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE MESSENGER. 
 
 " Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ; 
 Parts that become thee happily enough, 
 And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
 But where they are not known, why, then they show 
 Something too liberal." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 IT was now nearly five years since Manulito had 
 said farewell to his friends. "Wellington and his 
 family were still at the old homestead, but they 
 saw the futility of remaining much longer, for a 
 man of Wellington s acknowledged ability could 
 not tie himself down to a place where his practice 
 compelled him to travel with teams in a judicial 
 circuit throughout which his services were in con 
 stant demand. His scattered practice, furthermore, 
 necessitated his absence from home a greater part 
 of the time, and this was peculiarly distasteful to 
 him, for he was a man deeply attached to his 
 family, and exceedingly domestic in his habits. 
 During the excitement and worry of the many 
 
THE MESSENGER. 193 
 
 trials in which he was engaged, he always looked 
 through the clouds of legal wars and saw beyond 
 the haven of rest at his little home on the farm, 
 where love and constancy ever welcomed him with 
 open arms. 
 
 He knew the brilliancy of his mind, the depth 
 of thought he possessed, the intuitive faculty of 
 discernment, his power of analysis of any subject. 
 But while he saw all these things which were evi 
 dent to those with whom he was brought into con 
 tact, he was neither vain nor egotistical, and the 
 light of his intellect shone brightest when struck 
 by the spark of some opposing element. 
 
 The gift of intellect which Nature had dealt him 
 with such a lavish hand he made the foundation 
 on which he built his legal and oratorical successes. 
 "When he began the practice of law, he saw that, 
 while young both in years and experience, his ser 
 vices were in demand in every important trial in 
 his locality. This did not fill him with vanity, but 
 was the spur that urged him on to merit his victo 
 ries and to make him worthy of the compliments 
 so freely given him. He was not ignorant of the 
 influence he carried in his arguments, and con 
 stantly strove to improve his mind and to add to 
 his store of knowledge, so that the power to create 
 sympathetic emotion, with which he knew he was 
 gifted, would flow from the spring of a mind which 
 was the receptacle of truth, history, and learning. 
 He knew that the power of a man s arguments 
 in 17 
 
194 MANULITO. 
 
 would soon be lost unless back of them there was 
 a mine of wisdom and learning; that wit or im 
 passioned utterances at the bar, unsupported by 
 legal knowledge, would have little weight; and 
 that the eloquent lawyer, if not also profound, 
 would be a failure compared with the prosaical 
 jurist who had the statutes always at his tongue s 
 command. He was a student, and his disciplined 
 mind enabled him to retain what he read. He 
 was literary in his tastes, and took pardonable 
 pride in both his legal and private libraries. He 
 wanted to probe to the bottom all subjects in which 
 he was interested, and, therefore, when in the study 
 of law new points were at all times being suggested, 
 his great mind sought to grasp them all. Accord 
 ingly, he studied ancient and modern, history, the 
 classics, mythology, but especially the history of 
 England, for in the old law-books of that country 
 and in the Bible he reached the origin of the sub 
 ject, and learned that generations before statutes 
 existed the world was ruled by the Common Law, 
 which was simply the established customs of the 
 people. 
 
 Many who heard his speeches did not realize 
 that his brilliancy of thought, the beauty of his 
 rhetoric, was the result of profound study. They 
 were charmed by the melody of his voice as its 
 silver tones reached the recesses of the court-room, 
 but when in sarcasm he tore to pieces some argu 
 ment advanced by his opponent, or with judicial 
 
THE MESSENGER. 195 
 
 wisdom presented some hidden point of law, or 
 with supreme confidence quoted some familiar 
 maxim known principally to his profession, or with 
 fervent eloquence swayed his audience by his beau 
 tiful comparisons, and then from brilliant similes 
 drifted into the deepest subjects, showing the depths 
 of his researches, they did not realize that this elo 
 quence was the result of days and nights of the 
 most ardent study. 
 
 He loved poetry. His favorite authors were 
 Shakespeare and Milton, and in the poems of 
 Burns he often found thoughts which inspired him 
 to loftier language, and insensibly changed his 
 words to poetical prose. When speaking, he 
 seemed to have his hearers under mesmeric in 
 fluence. "When he denounced some act as deserv 
 ing the scorn of honest-minded men, all were with 
 him; and when he pled for sympathy or mercy, 
 his impassioned speech won for him the support 
 of judge and jury. Few could resist the power 
 of his eloquence, and many a man who at first 
 withstood his pleadings felt his set lips relax, and 
 his moistened eyes told the story of the surrender 
 of his heart. As Wellington s reputation increased 
 with his years, the knowledge that he was to plead 
 a cause would fill a court-room. To a certain ex 
 tent his eloquence was the means of creating oppo 
 sition to his client, for the jury, forewarned of his 
 persuasive powers, would sit, not always to study 
 the merits of the case, but determined to resist the 
 
196 MANULITO. 
 
 brilliancy of his speech. This increased his lahors ; 
 hut if their hearts were of iron, his reasoning was 
 a drill of steel, and soon pierced their armor. 
 
 Time in its revolutions wrought wondrous 
 changes in the scenery where this story is founded. 
 The dense forests were swept away hy the settler s 
 axe, while civilization, in its onward progress, con 
 verted rolling prairies into cultivated fields. Here 
 and there little farm-houses dotted the fields. The 
 deer-paths and the hunters trails were broadened 
 into wagon-roads. The creeks were spanned hy 
 bridges, primitive as yet in their construction, and 
 the land was occupied by incoming strangers. 
 
 The hunters paradise was a thing of the past, 
 for big game was growing scarce, and only an oc 
 casional deer was killed. There was still an abun 
 dance of small game, both fur and feather, but to 
 one who had for years tested his skill against the 
 antlered kings of the forest, this afforded but in 
 different sport. Wellington hunted but seldom. 
 The journeys were so arduous, game being so hard 
 to find, that each season he found himself less in 
 clined to hunt. But his resolutions to quit hunting 
 were but the outbursts of disappointed feeling, not 
 an evidence of a change of heart, for he still loved 
 the fields and forests and the solitude of Nature. 
 When one has been a devotee of out-of-door life, a 
 passionate lover of field sports, those feelings are 
 never entirely lost. When oppressed by the trials 
 of business, when his tired body demands rest and 
 
THE MESSENGER. 197 
 
 recuperation, the recollection of the green fields, 
 the quiet woods, and some spot where he can rest 
 and enjoy the ,, beauties of Nature, comes back to 
 him. And he longs to be away from mankind, 
 where, amid the solitude of his surroundings, he 
 can dream the hours away. 
 
 So it was with Wellington. When he thought of 
 leaving this section where so many of his happiest 
 days had been spent, like a clinging vine these 
 thoughts wound their tendrils around his heart, and 
 he was loath to leave a place so sacred to him. He 
 felt that when he made the change, the bustle and 
 activity of city life would keep him from the places 
 he loved so well. But he could not remain here, 
 fcr he knew that it would be an injustice to his 
 family and to himself, and he had therefore made 
 all arrangements to leave and practise his profes 
 sion in one of the larger cities. 
 
 The years had passed quietly at the old home 
 since Manulito left, and the children were the blos 
 soms of perfect health. The boy was sun-browned 
 and dark, an expert with bow and arrow, obedient 
 and yielding, yet so bold and fearless that he would 
 catch some wild colt, and, with a rope for a bridle, 
 ride it while it ran its swiftest over the rough 
 ground, leaped the ditches, and tried to free itself 
 of its rider. 
 
 With the little maiden the five years had but 
 added to her beauty and simplicity, and she had 
 grown into a lovable girl of nine. Her sweet man* 
 
 17* 
 
198 MANVL1TO. 
 
 Tiers had not deserted her, for the intervening years 
 had only added to her graces. Her tall, slender 
 form, her perfect teeth, her violet ev.es, her golden 
 hair, which hung in curls over her shoulders, her 
 merry smile, her sunny disposition, attracted every 
 one to her, and she was the light and happiness of 
 this little home. 
 
 They all remembered Manulito well, his beauti- 
 ful sentiments, his noble character ; and often they 
 sat before the crackling fire, hour after hour, while 
 Wellington told of the exciting incidents which 
 happened when Manulito and he were together on 
 their many excursions. They loved to talk of this 
 absent friend, and hoped that some day he would 
 return to them. Each remembered him according 
 to the individual impression received. To the boy 
 he was chivalrous, learned, wise in the knowledge 
 of woodcraft ; to the girl, kind and affectionate, so 
 willing to go with her to gather flowers, so gener 
 ous, so appreciative when she showed her childish 
 love ; while Wellington and his wife remembered 
 him as a man of noblest mould, possessing a heart 
 as true as steel and of the grandest impulses. 
 There was a charm to Wellington in recalling what 
 he knew of Manulito, for when he talked of him 
 it brought the sweetest recollections of his past 
 life ; and it seemed as if the veil were lifted, and he 
 and Manulito were together, hunting, fishing, or 
 sitting in some favorite nook in the forest. It was 
 a dreamy retrospection in which he loved to dwell. 
 
THE MESSENGER. 199 
 
 One night the family were sitting by the fire 
 place. It was in the month of May, and though 
 the days were mild, the nights were cool enough to 
 make the warmth of the fire agreeable. Welling 
 ton had been speaking of Manulito, and as he 
 finished, the boy exclaimed, 
 
 " And don t you ever hear from him, papa ?" 
 
 To which Wellington replied, "I have never 
 heard a word from him until to-day." 
 
 " To-day !" they all spoke in unison. 
 
 " Yes, to-day I heard from him. It was in an 
 unexpected fashion; but the messenger proved a 
 most welcome one, and I have good news." 
 
 " Good news !" exclaimed the mother. " Oh, I 
 am so glad ! He is coming home !" 
 
 " No, no ! ISTot that ! He is not coming home ; 
 but let me tell you what I heard." 
 
 At this the mother dropped her sewing, and the 
 boy and girl seated themselves at their father s 
 feet, their eyes sparkling with expectancy, as he 
 said, 
 
 " I sat in my office this morning, deeply engrossed 
 in looking up authorities and making a brief pre 
 paratory to arguing a demurrer, when the door 
 opened, a man entered the room, and, after ex 
 changing with me the courtesies of the day, seated 
 himself composedly in a chair. He was a stranger 
 to me, and from a casual glance at his dress and 
 general appearance I took him to be a farmer. My 
 mind was intent on the point I was studying, and 
 
200 MANULITO. 
 
 therefore I gave him only an occasional look. In 
 reply to my inquiry if I could do anything for him, 
 he said, Not just now. Go ahead with your work, 
 judge. He was surely complimentary in the title 
 he gave me ; but, as I dug through my books, I felt 
 somehow that the man was making a study of me. 
 At times I looked up suddenly, and invariably 
 caught his eyes, though, as he met my glance, he 
 would look indifferently away. Finally, I must 
 confess, my curiosity got the better of me, and I 
 began a study of my caller. He was of medium 
 height, tanned from exposure, and his whiskers, 
 moustache, and hair were of a faded brown color. 
 On his head was a battered felt hat that had origi 
 nally been white, but through the exigencies of 
 long wear had acquired a shade which was inde 
 scribable ; his coat was a faded yellow ; he wore a 
 1 hickory shirt, blue jeans/ and his feet were en 
 cased in brogans which were thickly covered with 
 dust, showing what had been his mode of trav 
 elling. 
 
 " I must confess I took great pleasure in studying 
 this specimen of humanity, and I tried hastily to 
 form an opinion of him, his errand, and his occu 
 pation. It was evident to me that he was penni 
 less, and yet there was an indifferent abandon about 
 him that told plainly of his satisfaction with the 
 world in general. I pretended to take no interest 
 in him, but he kept me under constant surveillance, 
 until at last, as if through with my studies, I closed 
 
THE MESSENGER. 201 
 
 my books, and, turning to him, said, ( Well, my 
 friend, what can I do for you ? 
 
 "At this he looked at me intently, and said, 
 1 Squire, you ve been studyin me for some time, 
 but you don t know me. I am a tourist. Then 
 he laughed, and said, < In plain words, a tramp. 
 You can t do any law business with me, but I ve 
 suthin to say to you that will interest you. I ll 
 have to ask you some questions fust; but before 
 we begin, I want to say with truth, and I ll sw ar 
 to it if you want me to, that I heven t had a bite for 
 twenty-four hours ; and you know how it is your 
 self, when a man s stomach is empty he ain t in no 
 condition to talk. !N"ow, if I was a millionaire, or 
 had a few dollars, I wouldn t talk this way ; but 
 I m bu sted, completely broke, and I want you 
 to lend me a quarter. Then I ll get suthin to eat 
 and come back ; and if you are the man, then I ve 
 news for you that will please you. 
 
 " Of course I gave him the quarter, for some way 
 I felt that he had something to say which would in 
 terest me, and naturally I was anxious to hear it. 
 He went out and soon returned, having evidently 
 made good use of the quarter, for, as he seated 
 himself, he took a generous chew from a great 
 plug of tobacco, and said he was ready to begin. 
 At once I discovered that he was to be the ques 
 tioner, and I was to be thoroughly investigated, for 
 he began, 
 
 " Squire, I don t want you to take offence, but 
 
202 MANULITO. 
 
 what I ask you about you will soon find my reasons 
 for. 
 
 " Then he asked me if my name was Wellington, 
 and if my wife had black hair and beautiful brown 
 eyes. I was proud to reply in the affirmative, and 
 thank him for the compliment so worthily bestowed. 
 Then he wanted to know if I had two children, 
 a boy and a girl; and, next, he asked if an old 
 darky worked for us named Uncle Rastus. I 
 watched him eagerly as he disclosed his knowledge 
 of our family, and tried to identify him, but I 
 couldn t place him. Then I asked him if he had 
 ever lived around here. He answered that this 
 was his first visit, and, divining my thoughts, 
 said, 
 
 " Now, Squire, don t try to locate my phiz, for 
 you can t do it. I m a stranger here. This is my 
 fust trip through these parts, and I m simply on the 
 back trail through the States. You wonder what 
 I m doin here, and I ll tell you. I m here to keep 
 my word, to see you and your wife and little ones 
 face to face, and deliver my message accordin to 
 promise. 
 
 " At this I was more mystified than ever, for I 
 could not imagine what this man might have to say 
 to us. I could scarcely withhold my impatience, 
 and insisted that he tell me at once what his errand 
 was. He appeared to take delight in my eagerness, 
 but retained his knowledge as a kind of delicious 
 morsel, until finally I said, 
 
THE MESSENGER. 203 
 
 " * Tell me, my good man, what you intend to. 
 Please don t delay it any longer. Tell me where 
 you came from and who sent you. 
 
 " At this he rose, walked up to me, and said, 
 
 " I come from the plains ! I come to keep my 
 sacred pledge to the Lone Chief, Manulito ! 
 
 " On hearing the name we love so much, I grasped 
 both his hands, and asked him about twenty ques 
 tions in one breath. 
 
 " I must have talked very excitedly, for he raised 
 his hand and said, 
 
 " < Not now ! Not now ! My errand must be 
 delivered to all of you, yourself and your family. 
 
 " So he promised to come here to-night, and it 
 is time for him now. Hark ! Yes ! I hear heavy 
 footsteps. It must be he." 
 
 Saying this, he opened the door, and the stranger 
 entered. As Wellington greeted him, he asked him 
 his name, and then said, 
 
 " Mr. Martin, I have the pleasure of introducing 
 you to my wife, our son, and our little girl." 
 
 "It is scarcely necessary, Squire, to interduce 
 your family, for the description given me would tell 
 me whose children they are." 
 
 Notwithstanding his effort to appear self-pos 
 sessed, he seemed a trifle ill at ease, for he said, 
 
 " I ain t very handsome in this outfit. What 
 luggage I have don t bother me to carry, for I 
 wear it all the time. I ain t much for style. 
 Workin don t agree with me, and my stomach is 
 
204 MANULITO. 
 
 BO constituted that it can be empty for a couple of 
 days or be overloaded; it s all the same to me. 
 My wealth don t bother me any. I don t make any 
 debts, cause no one is fool enough to trust me; 
 and if I had money I couldn t keep it. I don t 
 worry any, cause worry shortens every man s life. 
 I ve got a heap of travellin yet to do ; my old legs 
 will give out some day, and when they do, I expect 
 I ll turn up my toes side of some hedge, or be 
 found a stiff in some honest man s barn. There 
 fore I intend to take life easy and accept things as 
 they come." 
 
 " You are certainly a philosopher," said Wel 
 lington. 
 
 "Hardly that, Squire! Hardly that! For I 
 think that what you call philosophy is jest good 
 hoss sense. We all know about what s right in 
 this world, but it s mighty hard allus to carry it 
 out. We don t all agree, good thing we don t. 
 I go my way, got no relatives, it s nothin to 
 nobody, so no complaint comin . But I promised 
 to tell you about your Injun friend. Say the word 
 and my story begins." 
 
 " All right," said Wellington ; " we are all ready 
 and waiting." 
 
 At this the queer guest took in a fresh supply of 
 tobacco, and said, 
 
 " Appearances are not deceivin in my case, for 
 I m a queer duck, and while you mought hurry me 
 by suggestin things, then ag in you mou^htn t; 
 
THE MESSENGER. 205 
 
 cause I m like a wild-cat : you can t most allus tell 
 which way I m goin to jump. So with me the 
 probabilities are that the longest way round 11 be 
 the shortest cut. I ain t a-goin to tell much of my 
 life, cause that s neither here nor thar, but, as the 
 preacher says, < in the course of my peregrinations 
 I may refer incidentally to the subject not under 
 discussion. Purty big words for a man of my cut 
 to use, don t you think ?" 
 
 "Wellington and his wife smiled at this, for they 
 began to feel almost as much interest in the man as 
 in his story, while the children thought him the 
 oddest specimen of humanity they had ever seen. 
 
 " I ve tramped through all the States and Terri 
 tories, and the longer I live the funnier the world 
 seems to me. When I fust come to your office, I 
 didn t know but what I had made a misdeal ; but 
 you showed your hand, I felt I had as good, so I 
 stayed. If you had made a bluff, I m thinkin 
 your jags would have lost the game ; but you 
 played honest with me, and Jim Martin don t go 
 back on no man what gives him a squar deal. 
 But to my story. I hoofed it across the plains 
 with a gang of gold-hunters goin to Frisco, mined 
 awhile, made some money, and spent it a heap 
 faster than I made it. But it wasn t no use; I 
 wasn t contented. I prospected, but was down on 
 my luck most of the time, and twice I had a for 
 tune slip away from me. Once I sold a claim for 
 two thousand dollars. For a few weeks I painted 
 
 18 
 
206 MANULITO. 
 
 the town, but the money soon went, and I was 
 bu sted. And then, what do you think? That 
 same claim that I had dug, picked, washed, and 
 worked in for two solid years, the same infernal 
 one that I sold for a miserable two thousand, 
 with in two weeks afterwards they sunk a shaft six 
 feet farther, and sold out for seventy-Jive thousand 
 dollars I Think of it, seven thousand five hundred 
 tenners! In fact, that was the kind of luck I 
 played in all the time. 
 
 " Then I drove stage, whacked cattle, fought, 
 bled, and came mighty nigh dyin with the Injuns; 
 indeed, was so long with them that I can speak most 
 any Injun language. If I couldn t I wouldn t be 
 here, for that s the way I ve got out of a good many 
 scrapes with the reds ; and I wanter tell you, right 
 here, that I ain t got no love for any of them, no, 
 it s hardly fair to say that, for I do feel uncommon 
 kind towards your friend, and I want to tell you 
 that he has a heap whiter heart than the average 
 white man. 
 
 "You see, I was guide across the plains for 
 years, and knowed all the tricks of the redskins. 
 I d never happened to run across the Injun they 
 called the Lone Chief, but he had the reputation 
 of bein the greatest warrior they had. He could 
 outrun or outshoot any of them ; he was the biggest 
 brave in all the tribes, and in their councils he 
 always took the lead, while, when it came down to 
 speech-makin , he took the cake, and would have 
 
THE MESSENGER. 207 
 
 taken the ice-cream and spoon too if they had 
 had any. His hoss had an equal reputation, and 
 nothin on the plains could touch him for speed. 
 He was jet-black, and they called him the Evil 
 Spirit. They had a high-toned name for him, 
 4 Imp o Darkness/ but plain words are good enough 
 for me, and I allus called him the Devil. 
 
 " Last summer I was guidin a train across the 
 plains. The men were the most disgusted lot you 
 ever see, and one in partic lar was mean as a coy 
 ote. He laid all his bad luck to the Injuns; fact 
 was, they had relieved him of several hosses, and 
 failed to return em or pay for em. So one night 
 he was a little full, the boys twitted him, and he 
 took a solemn oath that he d shoot the fust Injun 
 he saw. Some of em thought he was gassin , but 
 I knowed he wasn t, cause I knowed he was a 
 sandy cuss, and I was afeared he mought do what 
 he threatened. So, after he was sober, I talked to 
 him, but it didn t do no good. He said he had 
 sworn to shoot the fust Injun he saw, and he was 
 goin to do it. I told him that if he did the whole 
 outfit would be ransacked and all of us lose our head 
 gear, but he said he d do it. "Well, two days arter- 
 wards we was camped by a little creek, it hadn t 
 any name then, but it s called Raw-Hide Creek. 
 It was about three miles from the Platte, right 
 above the North Bend. We had packed up, and 
 some of the boys said that Pete that was his name 
 had gone huntin . Pretty soon one of the men 
 
208 MANULITO. 
 
 come runnin in and said, < Pete s kept his oath ; 
 he s shot an Injun. Now I knew we were in for 
 it. We started right off, but that afternoon a cloud 
 of dust was seen west of us, and then it seemed as 
 if the plains was alive with Injuns. Ahead of them 
 all, and in command, was the Lone Chief, ridin 
 that black hoss. I knowed the jig was up, and 
 I told the boys so. They had sense enough to see 
 it, so we stopped and waited. Jerusalem ! I ve 
 seed many an Injun on a hoss, but such a fine- 
 lookin fellow and such a noble hoss I never seed 
 before nor sense. The Lone Chief rode up in war 
 paint, feathers, gewgaws, etc., and said in jest as 
 good English as I m usin now, I would speak 
 with your commander. Well ! It almost knocked 
 me silly to hear an Injun talk that way; but I 
 stepped out, and he said, 
 
 " We seek the man who shot one of our squaws 
 at the creek this mornin , and this train must turn 
 back ards and go with us. 
 
 " That settled it ; but I made up my mind to tell 
 the whole story, and to put the blame where it be 
 longed. We started on the back trail, and while I 
 was ridin alongside this warrior, he said, 
 
 " A lyin tongue will bring its owner to grief. 
 Many lives will be spared should the Pawnees 
 know who fired that shot. If the murderer is not 
 discovered, the innercent 11 have to suffer with the 
 guilty. 
 
 " I was in a box ; didn t know what to say. At 
 
THE MESSENGER. 209 
 
 last they stopped at this same creek, the identical 
 spot where the squaw was shot, and this warrior 
 rode out, and said, 
 
 " < Who was the man that fired that shot ?" 
 
 " ISTo one spoke. Then he axed the question 
 ag in, but didn t get no reply. The Injuns were 
 gettin oneasy, and it was all their chief could do 
 to keep them from sailin into us. Then he said, 
 for the third time, 
 
 " Who was the man that fired that shot ? 
 
 " I knowed the game was up now. We couldn t 
 fight, for they had disarmed us at the start. The 
 boys shut their teeth and breathed hard. Jest then 
 Pete stepped out, and said, 
 
 " < I am the man ! 
 
 " The Lone Chief said, * You ve saved the lives 
 of your friends, but you must answer for your 
 crime accordin as my warriors desire. 
 
 " Now, Pete was no coward, and he said, 
 
 " There s no use my lyin about it. I said 
 I d shoot the fust Injun I saw, and I kept my 
 word. 
 
 " But, said the Lone Chief, she never did you 
 no harm. She went to the creek to get some water, 
 and you shot her down jest like you would a wild 
 beast. You didn t give her no chance to defend 
 herself, and when her little pappoose come to its 
 mother it found her dead ! What reason can you 
 give for this ? 
 
 " Pete saw now what he d done, and hung his 
 o 18* 
 
210 MANULITO. 
 
 head without speakin . Then he looked up, and he 
 said, I ve nothin to say. 
 
 " Tis well ! exclaimed the chief. 
 
 " Then they held a confab. I saw what was 
 comin , but didn t know in jest what shape. Two 
 warriors sunk a stake, about six feet high, right at 
 the spot where the woman was killed. Then they 
 took a lot of rawhides, and when everything was 
 ready, the Lone Chief rode up near the stake, and 
 this is what he said, 
 
 " Few men have suffered more than Manulito 
 at the hands of the white men, but to-day he for 
 gets his bad feelin s towards them, and only lets 
 his warriors punish the guilty. If my braves had 
 their way, all of you would now be dead. Nobody 
 but the guilty shall suffer, but you, his friends, must 
 see us punish him. He took the life of an inner- 
 cent person, and his own life must pay for it. 
 When you get back to the settlements and speak 
 of this day, you can say that one Indian was merci 
 ful towards the innercent, and saved you from bein 
 put to death by his warriors. 
 
 " When he d finished this here speech, he made 
 a motion to his warriors, and four of em grabbed 
 Pete, stripped him to the waist, and tied him to the 
 stake. Then a big, strong buck come up with a 
 whip made with a short handle and four rawhide 
 thongs, each one braided separately. When he was 
 tired of whippin , another took his turn, and so 
 on. But, Squire, I ain t chicken-hearted or mealy- 
 
THE MESSENGER. 211 
 
 mouthed, but Fm not goin to tell more. It makes 
 me sick to think of it, and I ain t any tender-foot, 
 either. How long it lasted the Lord only knows. 
 But Pete s crime was punished, sure enough, and he 
 died right on the spot whar , a few hours before, he 
 had committed murder. It was awful ! But, Squire, 
 hard as it was, we all had to admit it was a squar 
 deal. 
 
 " You kin bet your sweet life I wasn t in any 
 shape for visitin , but this chief, Manulito, took 
 me one side, and I m willin to admit that that 
 Injun knowed more than any one I ever met. 
 "When he found I was goin to the States, he 
 pumped me to find out whar I was goin . I told 
 him it didn t make any diff rence to me. Then he 
 asked me if he hadn t done me a good turn. I 
 told him if we had been playin cahoots and he 
 held four aces, he couldn t have done himself 
 prouder. He asked me if I would do him a favor. 
 4 Well, I should say yes ! says I. Then he drew a 
 map, directin me how to reach you, and after he 
 had explained things so I couldn t miss the trail, 
 he got kinder confidential-like, and told me all 
 about you all, how kind you had been to him, and 
 how he loved you. "When he spoke of love I come 
 mighty nigh snortin , cause it struck me so quar 
 for an Injun to love anybody. But he soon satisfied 
 me he did love you all, and I found, on talkin to 
 him, that while he was the smartest and bravest 
 warrior of them all, he had a heart as soft as a 
 
212 MANULITO. 
 
 woman s. He told me to go to you, to tell you, 
 Squire, that he had forgotten nothin ; that night 
 arter night he dreams of you, and when he is suc 
 cessful in a hunt he wishes you was with him ; when 
 others praise him and flatter him, he don t predate 
 it nigh as much as he would a few words from you, 
 tellin him you approved of what he had done. 
 
 " Yes," continued the stranger, " he is the wisest 
 and best Injun I ever run across, but his heart is 
 right in this house all the time, and he loves you 
 more than all the rest of the men in this wicked 
 world. 
 
 " To your wife, he said to tell her that the prom 
 ise that he made the night he left your house he 
 had allus kept. He didn t mention what it was, 
 and I was goin to ask him, but on second thoughts 
 didn t consider it any of my business, and I hate a 
 pryin cuss anyhow, so I didn t say nothin . But 
 he kinder let the cat out of the gunny-sack, for he 
 said, Tell her I have kept my promise, and have 
 saved many women and children, and seen they 
 reached their homes safely. 
 
 " He sent his love to the boy, and said to tell him 
 that he hoped he was well and strong, and that he 
 would not forget the last advice he gave him, to 
 try to be like his father ; and he said for him to be 
 good and true, kind and obejient. Strikes me he 
 said suthin else, but the hinges of my memory are 
 purty rusty, and I disremember what else he said 
 to tell the boy. 
 
THE MESSENGER. 213 
 
 " To this little gal he said, say, Squire, what 
 do you think ? Well, I m willin to be lassoed for 
 a coyote if that Injun s eyes didn t grow weak and 
 kinder watery when he spoke of the gal, he said 
 to tell her that he never saw purty flowers in the 
 mountains or on the plains without thinkin of her ; 
 and when he rested at the aidge of some stream 
 he often picked flowers, and he loved those best 
 that were like those she used to find. I never seed 
 a full-grown man think so much of a child as he 
 does of this little gal. I listened, and he talked for 
 hours, all about you-uns, and it struck me that he 
 was a romantic cuss if he was an Injun." 
 
 " But tell us," said Wellington, " did he say he 
 was coming back ?" 
 
 " No, he didn t, and I don t think he intends to. 
 He seems to be mighty happy, that is, for an 
 Injun ; it don t take much to satisfy them. He s 
 free to do as he pleases, hunts buffalo and antelope, 
 goes to war most of the time with neighborin 
 tribes, and is a heap big Injun generally. What 
 more could he want ?" 
 
 " You expect to return again, and when you do, 
 tell him for us " interrupted Wellington. 
 
 " E"ow, look here, Squire ; don t give me any 
 message, cause it won t be delivered in that blasted 
 country, for I m a coyote if I ever go there again. 
 There s nothin out there I want. The Injuns 
 don t owe me nothin , and I ruther think they 
 have some old scores to settle with me. My head- 
 
214 MANULITO. 
 
 gear is a heap more becomin to my style of beauty 
 than a wig, and I don t intend my scalp shall dangle 
 in a wigwam if the court knows himself, and I 
 think he does." 
 
 Wellington smiled, and remarked, "Well, Mr. 
 Martin, you have surely seen much of the world, 
 and your experience has been varied." 
 
 " Seen much of the world ?" queried he. " Well, 
 I should smile. And as for experience, Squire, I 
 couldn t have had more at a camp-meetin . I m 
 not one to force myself on any community, neither 
 am I so awfully modest that I can t make my wants 
 known. Indeed, Squire, modesty don t worry me, 
 and I ain t afeerd to ask for what I want if I don t 
 see it. I believe in the old sayin , i If you don t 
 see what you wants, call for it. Doin this has 
 given me many a squar meal. I ve had many a 
 tussle in my lifetime; have slayed grizzlies and 
 mountain-lions, but when I tackled John Barley 
 corn, I was knocked silly the first round. And 
 when a man gets peart, as we all do at times, John 
 Barleycorn is the fellow that will show him up. 
 Yes, Squire, when a man thinks he can get the 
 best of whiskey he is goin to get beat, dead sure. 
 He may be strong physikerly and bright mentally, 
 but whiskey will floor him quicker nor two jiffs of 
 a lamb s tail. I ve been there, Squire, and know 
 what I m talkin about. I once got to drinkin 
 powerful hard, and the more I drank the sassier I 
 got, until I felt as if I had a contract to drink all 
 
THE MESSENGER. 215 
 
 the licker in town. Well, I didn t drink it up, but 
 I got awfully peart, and the fust thing I knew I 
 was in the jug, sentenced to thirty days services in 
 studyin geology." 
 
 " Geology ?" inquired Wellington. 
 
 "Yes, geology! You see, the city authorities 
 had a stone-pile, and us bummers, what was sen 
 tenced to break them stones for use on the streets, 
 was called < geology students. Well, I graduated 
 in thirty days. Then I tumbled to myself, and 
 made up my mind I would brace up and be some 
 body. You see, I was allus handy at anything, and 
 one day as I stood on the levee at St. Louis, a man 
 walked up, and said he to me, Can you tell me 
 whar I can employ a second cook for this steam 
 boat? Well, I said, kind of independent-like, 
 Can I? I should say I could! At this, I stuck 
 my thumbs in my vest and looked at him, while I 
 rolled my eyes and said, When you hires me, you 
 gets a horseshoe, for I ll bring you good luck. I m 
 the seventh son of a seventh daughter, and they was 
 all cooks, some pastry-cooks, while others was jest 
 common every-day cooks, and wasn t ashamed to 
 wash dishes on a pinch. Well, I was accepted. 
 In less than three months the head cook died of 
 yaller fever, and I was appointed < chef. Well, 
 now, Squire, talk about major-generals, shoulder- 
 straps, etc., they ain t nowhar compared to a < chef. 
 Of course my salary was raised, and I began to feel 
 my importance. I gained fifteen pounds in weight, 
 
216 MANULITO. 
 
 I waxed my moustache to look Frenchy, and when 
 any strangers was round, I looked fierce, and rattled 
 off some jargon what I picked up in Canada. Gee- 
 whiz ! but I was important. They all saluted me, 
 from the capt n down, and I was the biggest man 
 aboard. Naturally I felt my oats. So one day the 
 capt n intrudes on me between meals, jest when I 
 was suppin some old Madeira and eatin some 
 wafer-crackers, jest a little lunch you know, and 
 the capt n said to me, < Monsieur, I mought ex 
 plain right here that that was the way they all had 
 to open up a confab with me, < Monsieur, said 
 he, * a very elegant lady desires a cup of hot tea. 
 4 What ! said I, a cup of tea between meals ? 
 You know, sir, that s against the rules of my 
 kitchen ! This riled the capt n, and he said, 
 4 Confound yer imperdence ! Who s runnin this 
 boat, I d like to know ? Give it up, said I. 
 4 All I knows is I m chef of the culinary depart 
 ment, and I don t allow no one to intrude on me. 
 The capt n was an old steamboat man, and of 
 course a pow ful cusser when he got on the war 
 path. Talk about Paradise Lost! Talk about 
 4 Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned ! Para 
 dise or hell couldn t touch the capt n. I ve heard 
 harvest hands hold purty lively discussions. I ve 
 been with raftsmen on a tear. I ve listened to cow 
 boys expressin their opinions about Injuns and 
 buckin bronchos. But never did I hear any 
 human bein swear like that capt n did. I looked 
 
THE MESSENGER. 217 
 
 him squar in the face, tryin to look him out, and 
 then I give him a biassed look over the arm of the 
 chair, but it was no go. As a clincher, I looked at 
 him catawampus-like over my right shoulder, but 
 nixey ! It wouldn t phaze him. Hoop la ! but 
 didn t he rave ! He damned all the cooks that 
 ever was born, and all that was to come. He said 
 they was the cuss of every capt n s life ; that he had 
 more trouble with them than all the rest of his 
 help put together; that they allus wanted big 
 wages, done as they pleased, and quit without 
 notice. 
 
 " You see, I got ruther tired of the capt n 
 talkin so, and I jest lassoed him with the re 
 mark, 
 
 " Capt n, you ve got a big trip, and a bluff don t 
 go. You re at least two days away from another 
 cook, with a hungry lot of passengers. You ve 
 abused me pussonally, that I don t care so much 
 about, then I took on an offended look, and made 
 my voice tremble as if I was greatly affected, and 
 said, Capt n, the language to me I can forgive and 
 forget, but the insult to my perfession never! 
 Now, if you don t apologize, I get off at the next 
 landin , and there ll be a mutiny aboard, cause the 
 passengers ain t got nothin to eat. 
 
 " The capt n saw he had kicked over the whiffle- 
 trees while he was still hitched to the tugs, and 
 he knew I had him on the hip. About this time I 
 rang for the second cook, and while the capt n 
 
 K 19 
 
218 MANULITO. 
 
 squirmed and tried to get out of it, I made him 
 apologize for what he said. I knew he was in 
 wardly cussin me, but he had to come down off 
 his perch or have them all howlin for grub, so he 
 come. Arter he went out, I turned to the second 
 cook, and I said, Young man, become a chef! 
 Then the world bows to you. 
 
 " But," laughingly interrupted Wellington, " I 
 should have thought the captain would have 
 planned some revenge for this." 
 
 " Don t worry about the capt n. He had it in 
 for me all right. He was awfully pleasant for days, 
 and one day he sneaked in a new cook without 
 notice, and watched his chance for me. The pas 
 sengers knew of the jamboree the capt n had with 
 me, and sympathized with him. So one day, jest 
 at dusk, they landed at an island. Two roust 
 abouts grabbed me, and while they led me off 
 turkey fashion, the band played the Dead March. 
 The crowd cheered and jeered. They said I should 
 still be l chef, and not only chef but king, and I 
 was fired without a mouthful of grub. I lived on 
 that confounded island for ten days, eatin nothin 
 but blackberries and turtle-eggs. The Lord only 
 knows how long I would have stayed there if it 
 hadn t been for a stray log that floated nigh, which 
 I grabbed and straddled, and then paddled to the 
 main shore, bein in terror every minute for fear 
 a gaitor would grab me and pull me under." 
 
 " But," said Wellington, " I should have thought 
 
THE MESSENGER. 219 
 
 that passing steamers would have seen you and 
 have come to your relief." 
 
 " Relief nothin ! They did all see me, but they 
 knowed it all, and every one whistled for alandin , 
 then gave me the passin signal jest to devil me. 
 
 " Still," continued he, with a self-satisfied smile, 
 " I still live, and my steamboat experience helped 
 me to another job. I drifted around from place 
 to place, workin at my trade, doin nothin , until 
 one night I ran slap-bang up against a meetin -house. 
 They was holdin revival meetin s, and as I stuck 
 my head in, the pastor, a white-haired old man, 
 said, l Now let every one join in singin this famee- 
 liar hymn. Then they struck up * Rock of Ages, 
 cleft for me. Now, while I don t look it, I m 
 somewhat on the sing, and tenor is my long suit. 
 So I j ined in the song, and then I sang another 
 and another. The next night I felt my shanks 
 propellin me towards that church as if the safety- 
 valve was closed with one hundred and eighty 
 poun s of steam, when I only had license for one 
 hundred and fifty. Well, to make a long story 
 short, I got religion, and got it bad. I never was 
 very back ard on the talk, and my gift of gab helped 
 that good old man to convert many a tough sinner. 
 It done me a heap of good, too, and I wish I d stuck 
 to it. I ll tell you what it is," said he, in a serious 
 tone, " it s the only real satisfyin thing there is in 
 this world. Arter I had got several doses of it, I 
 kinder felt like savin the world and startin out as 
 
220 MANUL1TO. 
 
 an evangelist ; but my fust experiunce discouraged 
 me, for I got a position as mate on the steamer 
 i Grand Republic. Now, thinks I to myself, here s 
 a chance to do some missionary work among a 
 tough set. Jest my luck ! I started on the wrong 
 trail, and preached to them about the beauties of 
 heaven instead of the horrors of hell. I got one 
 nearly converted ; he was a tough cuss, never 
 wore a coat, and you could all us see his bare feet 
 through his old shoes. I pictered to him, as best I 
 could, heaven, angels, and everything good. * "Will 
 I be an angel ? said he, t and hev wings, and soei- 
 ate with decent people ? Of course/ said I, * if 
 you repent and are saved. * Never expected any 
 thing so rich, said he. Wouldn t feel at home. 
 But if you can fix it to let me in on the ground-floor 
 whar I kin hev a chance to work my way up, 
 don t mind thinkin it over. But I don t want 
 to disgrace no one in this world or the one to 
 come. 
 
 " I argued with him, but he got away. I gave 
 chase and let out full sail, even let out the jib, 
 but couldn t overhaul him. Then I preached hon 
 esty to the roosters under me, spoke kindly to 
 them, and thought I d elevate them, but I found 
 the only true and ke rect way to elevate them was 
 with my boot, for they stole my watch and money 
 while I was prayin for their souls. Unless they are 
 swore at and punched occasionally with a pitchfork 
 handle, they think they re neglected, and won t 
 
THE MESSENGER. 221 
 
 work. ]N"othin like a man havin the rations he s 
 used to, Squire. Ain t that so ?" 
 
 Wellington bowed assent, and laughed aloud at 
 the stranger s logic, but to Mrs. Wellington he was 
 an enigma. The stories of his strange life were to 
 her a fascinating but distasteful revelation, and her 
 refined nature rebelled at the coarseness of his lan 
 guage. She felt in constant terror lest he should 
 say something to shock the children, who listened 
 with bated breath to the story of his life. To them 
 it was a tale weird and wild, an exposition of things 
 of which they now heard for the first time. They 
 listened with childish eagerness to the story, but 
 were frequently puzzled to catch the meaning of 
 many of the strange words and idioms used by this 
 unexpected guest. 
 
 " Yes, it s a funny world," continued he, " and 
 the people like to be swindled. Allus cravin 
 suthin new, allus wantin suthin* for nothin . But 
 that s what makes life easy for us. I made two thou 
 sand dollars one summer as easy s fallin off a log, 
 jest by bamboozling greenies. You see, I had let 
 my hair grow long, wore buckskin clothes, claws 
 for a necklace, kept my face stained, and passed for 
 an Injun doctor who spoke pretty good English. 
 Then I travelled with an Injun attendant. We 
 cured at least pretended to cure all kinds of dis 
 eases with my wonderful medical discovery. To 
 show it wuzn t dangerous, I used to taste it often, 
 I sold a heap of it that summer, but an old Dutch- 
 
 19* 
 
222 MANUL1TO. 
 
 man got too inquisitive^ and a chemist told him 
 this wonderful medicine, put up in four-ounce bot 
 tles, consisted of four ounces aqua pura, a little 
 extract of smart-weed, a few drops of ile of sassa 
 fras, with enough aniline red to color slightly. 
 You can imagine the profit in it. But then," said 
 he, looking wise and elevating his eyebrows, " ex 
 penses were heavy, and us perfessional men allus 
 should be paid well for our services. My money 
 soon went, and the next thing I was travellin with 
 a side-show, wrestlin with a cinnamon bear. But 
 one day the bear got mad, and put his arms around 
 me so tight that two of my ribs was broke. I 
 
 then But here, it s gettin bedtime for these 
 
 chicks. I hurried somewhat in my story, and once 
 or twice let out a reef to make better speed, and 
 now I m through, think I ll get a move on myself, 
 as I m gettin nigh the home-stretch." 
 
 "You will stay with us to-night!" exclaimed 
 "Wellington. 
 
 "What? Where?" 
 
 " Why, here in this house, of course !" 
 
 At this the guest laughed as if some great joke 
 had been perpetrated, and said, 
 
 " Why, Lord bless you, Squire, I hain t slept in 
 a decent man s house for years. Can t sleep in 
 doors, anyhow. I feel oppressed-like, and when I 
 wake, unless I sniff the fresh air, I m choked for 
 breath. I m jest as much obleeged, but with your 
 consent and if you don t give it, I ll do it anyhow 
 
FROM VILLAGE TO CITY. 223 
 
 I ll jest crawl alongside the straw-stack near the 
 barn. I ain t afeared of bein robbed, and if any 
 one tackles me, their friends are apt to ask em 
 whose mule they ve been foolin with." 
 
 As they reached the door, "Wellington thanked 
 him for his visit, and again offered his hospitality, 
 but the stranger declined, and bade them good 
 night. 
 
 Early the next morning, as soon as they were 
 astir, Wellington hastened to find his strange guest 
 and interview him again, but his search was una 
 vailing, for he found that the wanderer had disap 
 peared. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 FROM VILLAGE TO CITY. 
 
 " His tongue 
 
 Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear 
 The better reason, to perplex and dash 
 Matured counsels." 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 As the days passed after this strange visitor had 
 called, there steadily crept over Wellington a feeling 
 of discontent, for he knew that the field for the ex 
 ercise of his talents was circumscribed, and he often 
 likened himself to a caged animal which longed for 
 
224 MANUL1TO. 
 
 perfect freedom. But the tender ties of home and 
 the pleasant associations with the honest people with 
 whom he had lived so long, the affectionate interest 
 they had in himself and family, the pride they felt 
 in his success, the admiration they always expressed 
 for his abilities, all these things made him hesitate 
 to take his wife and children from these devoted 
 friends and place them in a city where they would 
 miss the flowers, the hills and meadows, and the 
 sweet accustomed scenes of village life. He felt, 
 however, that he had already remained longer than 
 was wise, and now that he was offered the position 
 of solicitor for an influential corporation, he saw 
 that his opportunity had come, and he decided to 
 improve it. 
 
 It was no easy matter to arrange his departure, 
 for clients were not unselfish, and begged him not 
 to leave the village and allow the trial of their cases 
 to fall into the hands of some other lawyer. They 
 had engaged Wellington, and him they insisted on 
 having. He exercised all his ingenuity to rush to 
 trial all cases in which he was retained, but his op 
 ponents advanced the numerous excuses always at 
 the command of ingenious lawyers who desire a 
 continuance, so that many trials were deferred from 
 term to term, until a year had passed before Wel 
 lington could take his final departure. 
 
 The night before they were to leave, after kind 
 neighbors had made their final calls, the deep, soft 
 tones of the old family clock rung out the mid- 
 
FROM VILLAGE TO CITY. 225 
 
 night hour, and the full moon shed her softest light 
 over the sleeping earth, Wellington and wife, 
 whose hearts were too full for sleep, wandered out 
 into the night, and stopped at the garden gate. 
 
 " How beautiful the night !" said he. " Such 
 nights as these recall so many pleasant memories, 
 nights of peaceful life, of love and hope, for on 
 such a night as this I first met my love, and as the 
 moon made more beautiful her loving glances, and 
 darkened her brown eyes into softest tenderness, 
 and her raven hair shimmered in its bright light, I 
 knew I loved, and years have only served to make it 
 more holy and sacred, and I feel that God has dealt 
 most kindly in giving me such a jewel as my arms 
 contain. You have not forgotten that night?" 
 said he. 
 
 " Forgotten it !" she replied, reproachfully. 
 "Forgotten it!" And her moistened eyes chas 
 tised him in their look of reproach. " There is a 
 time in a woman s life that she will never forget, 
 that is the time when the man she loves confesses 
 his love to her. Her innate modesty has long 
 fought the fight of maidenly concealment, for she 
 strives hard to choke down alovethaf is devouring 
 her, lest the one she loves does not reciprocate; 
 and when, that night, you plead your love to me, 
 the world was my heaven, for I loved and learned 
 that I was loved in return. The moon, the stars, 
 the silent night, were witnesses to our mutual 
 pledges of affection. I thought I loved you then, 
 p 
 
226 MANULITO. 
 
 "Will, but that love was nothing compared to what 
 I now have after years of marital life." 
 
 Her looks corroborated her thoughts ; his right 
 arm drew her closer to him as he continued, 
 
 " As we stand here to-night, it seems but days 
 instead of years since, from this same spot, we 
 waved a last good-by to him whom we loved so 
 much, our absent Manulito. I know his thoughts 
 so well, and on such nights as these, when the 
 heated day has given way to dew-laden evening, 
 when the cool breezes float softly through the trees, 
 and the moon has arisen and her mellow glow 
 softens and beautifies the earth, it sometimes seems 
 to me, as it did to Manulito, that these nights are 
 the connecting links between earth and heaven, and 
 I know that on such nights our absent friend will 
 think of us, and ask the Great Spirit to watch over 
 and protect us." 
 
 " Do you know," continued he, " I would give 
 almost anything I have to see him again. Yes, 
 would give anything but you and the children. 
 I have often wondered if we will ever meet again. 
 It seems so strange that we should have loved one 
 another so much. Scarcely a night passes that I 
 do not dream of him, and the dreams are so real 
 istically true ; we hunt together, fish together, but 
 oftener sit side by side in the forest, holding long 
 conversations on subjects of mutual interest; then 
 I see the loving glances of his great dark eyes, feel 
 the warm pressure of his firm hand, and then I 
 
FROM VILLAGE TO CITY. 227 
 
 awaken, as if he were in my room, but find it all a 
 dream. And yet I love such dreams. I am not 
 superstitious, believe in neither the good or evil 
 effects arising from a dream, but it is a sweet satis 
 faction to be with him either in this life or in the 
 life I lead in dreamland. We shall hear from him 
 again. I feel assured of that. The tide of emi 
 gration is fast drifting towards the unsettled West, 
 and some day we shall hear more of him. I read 
 your thoughts all through the wandering story of 
 Martin, and shared your satisfaction when we 
 learned that Manulito was true to the teachings he 
 received at our hands. His savage heart has been 
 converted until it possesses the nobility, the gentle 
 ness, the purity of that of a woman. Manulito 
 won t preach Christianity to the Indians, but he 
 will, by his life and conduct, set an example for 
 them that is bound to be for their good." 
 
 At this moment the clock struck one. 
 
 " Come, come I" said he. " This won t do ! We 
 must play the lovers some other moonlight night." 
 
 And then, with his strong arm around her, an 
 appreciated but unnecessary support, this couple, 
 whose love only increased with advancing years, 
 returned to the house. 
 
 The next morning they were early astir, and the 
 little caravan which was to transport such of their 
 worldly goods as were to be taken was being pre 
 pared for the journey. The neighbors bade them 
 farewell with moistened eyes and sad hearts. But 
 
228 MANULITO. 
 
 no one was sadder than Wellington and his wife, 
 who strove hard to keep smiles on their faces, 
 though all knew they were but veils to hide the 
 actual feelings they strove to conceal. 
 
 After a journey of a week their destination was 
 reached, and the truth of the saying that ability 
 does not long go begging was soon proved, for one 
 day, shortly after his arrival in the city, as Welling 
 ton sat within the bar in the Criminal Court when 
 the docket was being called, he saw in the criminal 
 dock a young man who seemed deeply cast down 
 and apparently friendless. When his name was 
 called to answer to the charge in the indictment, he 
 raised his head, and in answer to the interrogatory, 
 " Guilty or not guilty ?" he replied, " Not guilty." 
 
 " Have you counsel?" asked the court. 
 
 To which he replied, " I am a stranger, friendless 
 and penniless, charged with the crime of murder. 
 I have, no counsel, and I have no means to procure 
 any." 
 
 At this Wellington arose, and said, 
 
 " If the court please, I would like to defend the 
 young man. I have never practised at this bar, but 
 am not entirely unknown to your honor, and if I 
 am permitted to defend the prisoner, I will do so 
 to the best of my ability and without compensation." 
 
 " Do you accept the gentleman as your counsel ?" 
 asked the court, and the prisoner nodded assent. 
 
 Thus was Wellington to try his first case at his 
 new home. When the day for trial came there was 
 
FROM VILLAGE TO CITY. 229 
 
 an intense interest manifested, for a cold-blooded 
 murder had been perpetrated, and the supposed 
 murderer was now to be tried. He had not been 
 caught in the commission of the crime, but circum 
 stantial evidence pointed to him as the guilty one. 
 
 The court-room was filled with interested parties, 
 while curiosity, which is such a strong element in 
 the average human mind, brought many more. It 
 was regretted by court-frequenters that in such an 
 important case some criminal celebrity had not been 
 selected to defend instead of the beardless lawyer, 
 whose personal appearance was decidedly boyish. 
 The prosecuting attorney was bombastic and ego 
 tistical, elected to office by reason of the political 
 majority of his party, and not because of his legal 
 ability. He had, as he supposed, estimated the 
 ability of his opponent, and had invited many of 
 his personal friends to be present and see him make 
 " a guy" of the lawyer from the backwoods. 
 
 During the impanelling of the jury Wellington 
 gained many friends by his cool, shrewd, and gen 
 tlemanly questions, and he had not proceeded far 
 before the court saw that this young man, so boy 
 ish in appearance, was an astute, experienced, and 
 brilliant lawyer, capable not only of protecting his 
 client s interest, but of taking most excellent care 
 of himself. 
 
 In his opening address the prosecuting attorney 
 put the case for the State, and fiercely denounced 
 the prisoner as the guilty one, and called for the 
 
 20 
 
230 MANULITO. 
 
 fullest penalty of the law to be inflicted. Then, in 
 sneering, caustic tones, he referred to the opposing 
 counsel as one who had tired of bucolic life, tired 
 of trying cases in country school-houses before illit 
 erate justices of the peace, and had come to the 
 city to learn the ways of civilized people. He 
 promised him protection, at the same time he 
 hoped that his country friend, who had left the 
 farm to practise law, would not take to heart any 
 rough sayings or cutting suggestions, for the earlier 
 he received a proper initiation the sooner he would 
 be able, if ever, to cope with those of greater learn 
 ing and experience. At this the court called him 
 to order, saying that there was no occasion for re 
 marks of that kind. But Wellington raised his 
 hand deprecatingly, and said, 
 
 " No, no, your honor ; don t stop him. Let the 
 gentleman proceed. I am young, and have much 
 to learn." 
 
 At this he again folded his arms, a cynical smile 
 played around his mouth, and his blue eyes turned 
 to a dangerous gray, while he calmly listened. 
 When the prosecuting attorney had finished his 
 harangue, and called repeatedly for the punishment 
 of the crime, demanding the greatest penalty that 
 could be inflicted by the law, he took his seat, and 
 condescendingly said, 
 
 " Now, young man, it s your turn." 
 
 Wellington arose and stepped towards the jury. 
 As he did, his handsome physique and personal 
 
FROM VILLAGE TO CITY. 231 
 
 appearance, the winsomeness of his manner, and 
 his gentlemanly carriage, won for him the sympa 
 thy and respect of all. As his lips parted and the 
 words fell from them with mellow regularity, with 
 delicate shade of feeling, with perfect modulation, 
 and each syllable with rare distinctness, judge and 
 jury at once recognized that before them stood a 
 matchless orator. He had formed the habit of 
 fondling his watch-chain at his vest and twining it 
 occasionally around his finger when opening an 
 argument, and this he did as he said, 
 
 " May it please the court and gentlemen of the 
 jury : No man ever recognized more fully the im 
 portance of his responsibility than do I this day as 
 I stand before you pleading the cause of an inno 
 cent man. I have not undertaken the defence of 
 the prisoner at the bar from any mercenary motive. 
 He is a stranger to me, but when I sat here a few 
 days ago and saw the sad look on his face, that 
 hopeless expression which is so often seen on the 
 faces of those who are despondent because of some 
 great trouble, and when I learned he was a stran 
 ger, without money, without friends, arrested, in 
 dicted, and to be tried for the commission of the 
 greatest crime known to the law, the obligations 
 taken by me when I was admitted to the bar, the 
 resolutions I formed years ago to at all times help 
 the poor and friendless, came back to me with re 
 newed force and strength, and I rejoice that I am 
 here with health and a knowledge of the law to 
 
232 MANULITO. 
 
 protect this young man, to see that he has that fair 
 trial which the Constitution of the United States 
 guarantees to every human "being." 
 
 He then spoke of the enormity of the crime, 
 and said that he desired the punishment of the 
 guilty one, but denied that his client was that one. 
 He said that the evidence would disclose their de 
 fence, and that the examination of the State s wit 
 nesses would prove the innocence of his client, as 
 there were facts within his knowledge that pre 
 cluded the possibility of the prisoner being the 
 murderer. At this the prosecuting attorney smiled 
 incredulously, but "Wellington continued, 
 
 " I shall ask you, gentlemen, to give your atten 
 tion throughout this case as you would have others 
 were your own son on trial for a heinous crime. 
 Any man may, by force of suspicious circumstances, 
 be placed in the same position as this young man. 
 It is no evidence of guilt, for the law expressly 
 says that every man shall be presumed innocent 
 until his guilt is proven, and if, bound as you are 
 by the sanctity of the oath you have taken as jurors, 
 your honest hearts satisfy you that, there is a reason 
 able doubt as to the guilt of the accused, then the 
 court will charge you to give the defendant the 
 benefit of the doubt, and he must be acquitted. 
 But I will not take your further time. Tis true, 
 as my friend says, I am from the country ; and if 
 that is a crime, to have come from a spot where 
 the winds from heaven breathe sweet incense into 
 
FROM VILLAGE TO CITY. 233 
 
 the blossoming flowers ; where honest men till the 
 soil, and greet strangers with courtesy and good 
 will; where a stranger is welcomed with unself 
 ish generosity, civility, and gentlemanly conduct; 
 where, perhaps, inelegant expressions drop from 
 the tongues of men who never had the advantages 
 of schools, and yet whose tongues have never uttered 
 a falsehood, whose homespun suits enclose hearts 
 the noblest God ever permitted to beat, if to have 
 lived amid such surroundings and to have associ 
 ated with such men as these is a crime, then, gen 
 tlemen of the jury, I stand before you guilty. 
 
 " As a child I loved stories. What child does 
 not ? And when my friend made his unprovoked 
 attack upon me, which called forth a reprimand 
 from the court, I heeded it not, for men are but 
 children grown, and his remarks brought back to 
 me the fable of JEsop, which relates how the ass 
 paraded in the lion s skin. He succeeded in fright 
 ening all who saw him until his conceit asserted 
 itself, he spoke, and the illusion was dispelled, for 
 all found that the supposed lion was but a braying 
 ass, and fear and respect were changed to unmiti 
 gated contempt. 
 
 " I apologize to your honor, and to you, gentle 
 men of the jury, for this comparison; it would have 
 been more elegant, more refined, perhaps more pal 
 atable to the taste of my aesthetic friend, if I had 
 used language not so indelicate ; but to him who 
 criticised me wilfully, deliberately, and without the 
 
 20* 
 
234 MANULITO. 
 
 slightest provocation, I have simply returned an eye 
 for an eye. Perhaps I should have paid no atten 
 tion to his insulting words, for when a man so far 
 forgets himself as to make slurring remarks about 
 a stranger, nothing that the brain can conceive or 
 the tongue utter will bring that man to a realization 
 of what true and professional courtesy is. I will 
 drop the matter, simply telling my friend that when 
 again he seeks to please the spectators by allowing 
 himself to insult a gentleman, he should hesitate, 
 lest that gentleman greet him with this quotation 
 from Pope : 
 
 Immodest words admit of no defence, 
 For want of decency shows want of sense. " 
 
 This was too much for judge, jury, and those 
 present, and everybody burst into a roar of laugh 
 ter, after which the trial was conducted with gen 
 tlemanly courtesy. 
 
 The evidence showed a brutal murder ; an old 
 man had been beaten to death between the hours 
 of ten and twelve at night. The prisoner had been 
 seen near the house, and was arrested as he was 
 leaving the neighborhood. A blunt weapon had 
 been used, and after the commission of the crime 
 the murderer had evidently run against the wall, 
 for there was a complete impression of a blood 
 stained right hand. It was clearly outlined, the 
 palm, the thumb, and the four fingers. During the 
 trial the prisoner sat with a glove on his right 
 
FROM VILLAGE TO CITY. 235 
 
 hand. Many thought it curious, and the State 
 made a strong point of this, denouncing the mur 
 derer, and daring him to uncover his guilty hand, 
 for the prosecuting attorney insisted that the im 
 print on the wall was made by the man who com 
 mitted the deed. At this the prisoner s eyes bright 
 ened, but Wellington reserved an outward calm, for 
 this assertion he knew would acquit his client. 
 
 As the State concluded their evidence, "Welling 
 ton arose, and said, 
 
 " Let the defendant remove his glove and be 
 sworn." 
 
 The prisoner rose and held his right hand aloft. 
 As he did, a murmur ran through the court-room, 
 visibly affecting the jury, for two fingers of the right 
 hand were gone, the wound had long since healed, 
 and it was evident that the prisoner could not have 
 committed the murder. Wellington saw the effect, 
 and said, 
 
 " I have no questions to ask the witness." 
 
 The case was argued by the State, but when 
 Wellington had concluded the defence, his un 
 answerable logic, his brilliant comparisons, carried 
 all with him, and after the immediate acquittal of 
 the defendant, both judge and jury complimented 
 him on the able manner in which he had con 
 ducted the case. This trial at once gave him a 
 local reputation, and, as far as the gaining of clients 
 was concerned, the battle was won. 
 
236 MANULITO. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE GLADIATORS. 
 
 " No thought of flight, 
 None of retreat, no unbecoming deed 
 That argued fear ; each on himself relied 
 As only in his arm the moment lay 
 Of victory." 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 IT was now one year since Wellington reached 
 the city. The courts were to have their vacation in 
 July and August, and he, representing a powerful 
 syndicate of capitalists, had promised to go to the 
 far West to investigate its mineral resources, and 
 to purchase a large amount of wild but fertile land. 
 
 At that season of the year, when business is at 
 its ebb in cities, many were desirous of joining the 
 party, both from a love of adventure and a wish to 
 get away from the activity of city life. A party of 
 twenty was formed, and early in July, with health 
 and abundant wealth to back them, they started, a 
 joyous crowd of happy young men, to visit for the 
 first time the great plains of the West of which 
 they had heard so much. 
 
 They reached the Missouri River on the 10th of 
 July, and at once started, under the guidance of an 
 old plainsman, across the beautiful but apparently 
 endless prairies. The dreams of years were soon to 
 
THE GLADIATORS. 237 
 
 be realized, and they were already planning to hunt 
 the antelope and the buffalo. When a few days 
 out, the prairie-dogs, those odd little inhabitants 
 of the plains, yelped and barked in astonishment 
 and affright at them. Soon they killed large num 
 bers of antelope, and on the afternoon of the fourth 
 day an immense herd of buffalo was reported. 
 This was the event for which they had been so 
 anxious, and rapidly making their preparations for 
 the hunt, they advanced, under the instruction of 
 the guide and scout, to a little elevation, from which 
 they looked down upon thousands of buffalo peace 
 fully grazing in the valley. The scout had previ 
 ously warned them not to be carried away by the 
 excitement of the chase and become separated, but 
 to hunt in pairs, lest some accident happen. He 
 also warned them not to go far from camp, for 
 while the Pawnees were friendly, the Sioux often 
 swooped down from the north, or the Comanches 
 came from the south, and both of these tribes were 
 at this time on decidedly unfriendly terms with the 
 whites. 
 
 "Wellington s heart beat with rapturous pleasure, 
 for he was once again on the open prairie and amid 
 the scenes he loved so well. Cool as he was, he 
 could hardly curb his feelings, but longed to test 
 the speed and skill of the spirited broncho on which 
 he was mounted. The little party moved quietly 
 forward, then the horses broke into a smart trot, 
 which soon became a furious gallop, and amid the 
 
238 MANULITO. 
 
 yells of their pursuers and the rapid firing of guns, 
 the great black mass of moving life thundered 
 away, and as their hoofs beat the hard earth, the 
 noise and confusion was terrific ; the herd was soon 
 broken, and, despite the warning of the scout, the 
 pursuers became scattered. 
 
 Wellington had killed several of the animals, 
 and, finally, his pony, wild with excitement, rushed 
 along by the side of a huge beast, so close that he 
 could fire only occasionally, and thus they went for 
 miles. At last the buffalo received a shot which 
 was fatal ; it bellowed, the blood ran from its nos 
 trils, it reeled, then pitched forward on its knees, 
 rolled its sad eyes with pitiful glances, and fell over 
 on its side dead. 
 
 Wellington dismounted without taking time to 
 reload his gun. He brushed his hair back, drank 
 in the refreshing prairie breeze, and revelled in this 
 opportunity of enjoying his long-pent-up desire. 
 His pony raised its head and neighed, and as Wel 
 lington looked up, his blood ran cold, for from 
 every direction Indians were rushing down upon 
 him. He mounted quickly, and looked for some 
 point of escape, but in vain, for scores of Indians 
 with levelled spears were fast closing in on him. 
 He pointed his empty gun at the one nearest to him, 
 but at this the rider dropped from view, only his 
 foot appearing over his pony, while beneath his 
 horse s neck his dark face leered with devilish fe 
 rocity. On they came, and one, more daring than 
 
THE GLADIATORS. 239 
 
 the others, sprang towards Wellington and tried to 
 snatch him from his horse. But he grabbed the 
 Indian s spear, and, wrenching it from him, knocked 
 him from his seat; then, breaking through their 
 ranks, he spurred his pony and fled for his life. 
 But the race could not last long, his horse was tired, 
 and only kept its pace frightened by the hundreds 
 of yelling demons behind him. As one reached 
 out to grab the fugitive, Wellington swung his 
 captured spear with skilful celerity, and with a 
 howl of pain his pursuer dropped from his horse. 
 
 They were now intent on making him captive, 
 and seeing this, he checked his horse, and before 
 they realized his intent he charged one of them, 
 and the impetuosity of the charge sent the Indian 
 and his pony rolling over in a heap. They now 
 yelled more horribly than before, and closed in on 
 him in a surging mass ; but his terrible spear still 
 unhorsed them. Then, driving his spurs into his 
 pony, the animal screamed with terror, and, bound 
 ing forward, Wellington, ponies, and Indians were 
 crowded together in a struggling mass. He fought 
 with desperation, and seemed possessed of super 
 human strength. The surging horde pounced on 
 him, but were thrust aside like children. The 
 unequal contest soon ended, however ; his arms 
 were seized from behind, he was bent down by 
 superior numbers, and when he was permitted to 
 arise, it was with pinioned arms, for he was a 
 captive in the hands of the Indians. 
 
240 MANULITO. 
 
 The sun had gone to rest, and twilight was fast 
 coming on, when all was ready for a start. "Welling 
 ton, as yet, had not heard an intelligible word. All 
 to him was a monotonous jargon. He knew not to 
 what tribe his captors belonged, and he was utterly 
 ignorant of their intentions towards him. When 
 they were ready to go, he was lifted upon a pony, 
 an Indian mounted behind him, and then in single 
 file the cavalcade started in a southwesterly direc 
 tion. Despite his condition and the fact that he was 
 a prisoner without any probability of immediate res 
 cue, he did not give way to despondency, but nerved 
 himself to make the best of his situation and to 
 attempt to escape at the first opportunity. A reso 
 lution of this kind was easily made, and under the 
 circumstances was a natural one, but his captors 
 appreciated their prize too highly to give him any 
 chance of obtaining his liberty. 
 
 After a few hours travel they were joined by 
 another band, equally as large, and from their 
 painted faces and the trimmings of their ponies 
 "Wellington inferred that they were not only on a 
 buftalo-hunt, but were also on the war-path. After 
 three days and nights of almost constant travel 
 they reached an Indian village, where they were 
 welcomed by men, women, and children with noisy 
 demonstrations of joy, while dogs of all ages, sizes, 
 and descriptions howled their approval. 
 
 Up to this time Wellington had not heard one 
 word in his own tongue, and was therefore pleas- 
 
THE GLADIATORS. 241 
 
 antly surprised when an Indian approached and 
 in broken English informed him that he was in 
 the hands of the Comanches. It was not encour 
 aging, so far as the realization of his situation was 
 concerned, but it was a satisfaction to feel that at 
 least one person in the ferocious and motley crowd 
 could partially understand a Christian language. 
 
 As was the custom with all Indians after the 
 return of a party from a successful hunt, their joy 
 must find escape by ceremonies peculiar to their 
 tribe, expressive of gratitude and devotion to the 
 Great Spirit who had led them to find game in such 
 great plenty. They therefore decided that on the 
 second day after their arrival they would partici 
 pate in their Buffalo-Dance, since other parties 
 which were out would have returned by that time. 
 
 "Wellington was advised of this decision, and was 
 also told that the tribe considered him a great war 
 rior, that he had shown his skill in fighting, and 
 that during the day of the Buffalo-Dance his bra 
 very would again be tested. He tried to discover 
 their intentions regarding him, but all his appeals 
 were in vain, for his interpreter had the faculty of 
 failing to comprehend when he did not wish to 
 enlighten the captive. Wellington told him that 
 he had never harmed one of them, and had always 
 entertained the kindest sentiments towards them. 
 To which his listener responded, "Now?" inti 
 mating that the captive found it advisable to have 
 kindly feelings just at that time, then burst into a 
 
 L Q 21 
 
242 MANULITO. 
 
 laugh, and walked away, saying, " Pale-faces great 
 liars." 
 
 On the following day Wellington was permitted 
 the freedom of the village, although he was under 
 the constant guard of two braves, who walked at 
 his side. He thought this a concession on their 
 part, but he little imagined that this exercise was 
 not to please him, but to keep his limbs and muscles 
 supple, that he might afford them the greater sport 
 at the proper time. At night he was firmly bound 
 and securely guarded. During the day he saw the 
 enthusiasm of the Indians in their preparations for 
 the fete of the next day. Every little ornament of 
 copper, brass, and tin was subjected to the bright 
 est polishing; beads and ribbons were selected and 
 assorted to make the greatest combination of 
 striking effects ; ponies were groomed, painted, 
 their manes and tails plaited and adorned with rib 
 bons and feathers of hawks and eagles, and each 
 brave tried to outdo his neighbor in painting his 
 face and breast. 
 
 At night a council of the chiefs and warriors of 
 the tribe was called. An accurate account was 
 given of their hunt, the enemies they had killed, 
 and the narrator dwelt with especial earnestness 
 on the capture of Wellington, his skill, and the 
 great strength of which he was possessed. This 
 was the most pleasant music to their ears, for the 
 Comanches were brave, delighted in anything 
 striking or mysterious, and now that they had a 
 
THE GLADIATORS. 243 
 
 fearless man in their power, they foresaw that his 
 tortures would add to the enjoyment of the day. 
 They intended that he should die, and they were 
 now to determine the manner of his death. Ordi 
 nary torture was considered beneath the dignity of 
 a warrior of his standing, and as they recognized 
 in Wellington almost the perfection of bravery and 
 of physical strength, they resolved that before he 
 met his death hio skill and fortitude should be tested. 
 They therefore decided that, according to the code 
 of their tribe, he should fight a warrior selected 
 by lot, and if the prisoner was the victor, which he 
 could be only by killing his adversary, then he 
 should be set free. This proposition was hailed 
 with enthusiasm, and every one present hoped that 
 he might be the one chosen to represent his tribe. 
 
 As this decision was reached, another party, which 
 had just returned from a hunt, entered the council. 
 They were all painted and bedaubed, with the ex 
 ception of one tall Indian, who strode in with dig 
 nity and seated himself near their chief, showing 
 that he was recognized as one of their head men. 
 The story of the capture of the pale-face was re 
 lated to the new arrivals, who heartily concurred in 
 the decision of the council. The braves then ap 
 proached the chief, who held a bag containing as 
 many wolf s teeth as there were warriors present, 
 and each man thrust his hand into the ba^, and. 
 
 o" 
 
 taking one of the teeth, held it in his closed palm. 
 Then the chief, Running Water, arose and said, 
 
244 MANULITO. 
 
 " When the sun is at its height to-morrow one 
 of my braves will fight the stranger for his life. 
 The pale-faces are the enemies of the Comanches ; 
 they try to rob us of our lands and our ponies, and 
 they kill our people. The pale-face that the Co 
 manches have captured is strong and brave and 
 cunning. He will fight for his freedom, for his 
 life, for it has been decreed that if he survives he 
 shall be set free and returned to his people. Then 
 let the warrior on whom this honor falls ask the 
 Great Spirit for strength and skill, so that when 
 the sun sinks to rest at night our tribe will rejoice 
 because its honor has been protected, and because 
 at the rising of the sun, after the battle has been 
 fought, one less pale-face will curse the earth by 
 his presence." 
 
 This speech was received with nods and vigorous 
 grunts of approval. Continuing, the chief said, 
 
 " In each warrior s hand there lies a tooth of the 
 wolf, whitened by the suns of many moons ; but 
 in one hand there lies a tooth stained by the damp 
 and darkness of ages. Unfold your hands, and to 
 him who holds the darkened tooth, to him falls the 
 honor of representing our tribe in the coming 
 battle." 
 
 At this all hands were opened, and many flung 
 their white ballots to the earth in disgust when 
 they found that they had lost. But when the war 
 rior who had lately entered, and was seated near 
 Chief Running Water, opened his hand, there was 
 
THE GLADIATORS. 245 
 
 exposed the stained and darkened tooth, and there 
 fore, by the decision of the council, he was to be 
 the champion of their tribe on the morrow. It 
 was further decided that the combat should be on 
 horseback and with spears. A Comanche Indian 
 was more at home on his horse than afoot, and the 
 height of his ambition was to display his agility 
 and skill in the carrying out of some startling or 
 presumably impossible feat of horsemanship. They 
 owned not undersized bronchos, but horses of full 
 growth and stature, combining the qualities of speed 
 and endurance. These animals were trained to obey 
 the will of their masters almost without command, 
 and they always considered that when mounted they 
 at once had an enemy at a disadvantage. 
 
 The Indians rode bareback, with a lasso or strip 
 of buffalo-hide fastened to the under jaw of the 
 animal. Still, this was more ornamental than use 
 ful, for they guided their horses by a pressure of 
 the knees or by a swaying of the body, the rein 
 lying loosely over the animal s neck. Therefore, 
 when a Comanche was mounted on his favorite 
 horse, he was ready to bid defiance to the world. 
 
 "Wellington had spent years in the saddle, both 
 as a boy and after his maturity, and he had yet to 
 see the horse he could not bring into subjection 
 He was an athlete, and to him it mattered not what 
 arms he wielded; all he asked was that he be 
 placed on an equality with his opponent. When, 
 therefore, it was announced to Wellington that he 
 
246 MANULITO. 
 
 was to fight for his freedom, fight on horseback 
 with spear and shield, he inwardly breathed a 
 prayer of thankfulness because of his early training 
 and the study he had made of heraldic encounters. 
 When a youth, his paragons of perfection, his 
 ideals of knighthood, were Ivanhoe and Richard 
 Coeur de Lion. He knew by heart the history of 
 the Crusades, the march of knighted men, their 
 bravery, their sacrifices for the cause of Chris 
 tianity; and often, when deeply engaged in the 
 perusal of incidents in which armed knights ad 
 vanced among the ranks of infidels and battled for 
 the cause of Christianity, he longed for such an 
 opportunity, and could not restrain his disappoint 
 ment because he had not lived at such a time. And 
 now, to find among wild, untutored men the same 
 ideas of personal encounter which had existed for 
 ages, but of which they could not possibly know, 
 seemed to prove that people are controlled by the 
 ideas of men of whose very existence they are 
 ignorant. 
 
 Wellington s surprise was still greater when he 
 learned that he and his antagonist were to fight 
 with their features masked. This mask was made 
 of the softest and most flexible skin, covering the 
 head and face, with apertures for the eyes and 
 mouth, while the crest was adorned with eagle s 
 feathers ; the face was painted with black bars, and 
 the head was decorated with stars and crescents in 
 yellow and red. 
 
THE GLADIATORS. 247 
 
 During the greater part of the night prepara 
 tions were being carried on for the fete of the 
 coming day. The chattering of the squaws, the 
 cries of restless children, and the whining and 
 harking of dogs rendered sleep almost an impossi 
 bility. At last the morning dawned, and with it a 
 gray mist spread over the village, threatening a 
 lowering day. The wind howled dismally, and the 
 spirits of the inhabitants were in consequence de 
 pressed ; but the summer sun was too strong and 
 warm, and his rays speedily dispelled fog and mist, 
 the winds veered to the north, the threatening 
 storm disappeared, and instead of a rainy day, the 
 hours increased the promise of the most delightful 
 weather. As the clouds rolled away and the mist 
 disappeared, the Indians showed their joy in divers 
 ways : ponies were decked with gaudy ribbons ; 
 squaws clothed themselves in petticoats of striking 
 colors ; chiefs were arrayed in their war-bonnets, 
 their faces streaked and daubed with paint, while 
 necklaces of the claws of birds of prey and of vari 
 ous wild animals made a rattling accompaniment 
 to the jingling of beads and tiny bells. 
 
 Wellington passed a night of restlessness, and 
 his broken slumber only increased his misery, for 
 while he slept he dreamed of home, and his awak 
 ening intensified the suffering caused by his sur 
 roundings. At last, the Indian who acted as inter 
 preter came to the tent, and Wellington arrived at 
 a partial understanding of what was expected to 
 
248 MANULITO. 
 
 happen. As yet he had not been advised of their 
 intentions, and had supposed that the passage at 
 arms was to be for the gratification of the tribe, 
 and that no serious results would happen, unless 
 possibly by accident. His visitor told him that 
 each would be armed with a shield and a blunted 
 spear, for in that manner they could show their 
 skill, agility, and horsemanship without endanger 
 ing each other s life. Wellington, as yet, had not 
 seen his antagonist, and when he asked to have 
 him pointed out, he was told that neither was to 
 see the other until they met in the arena ; that his 
 adversary had not seen him, and that when they 
 met, they would be on an equality. " And," the 
 visitor added, laconically, " the pale-face may never 
 see the face of the brave he fights with." 
 
 "Very well," rejoined Wellington; "if your 
 warrior is afraid or ashamed to fight except with 
 his face concealed, I will not ask to have it other 
 wise. It makes no difference to me." 
 
 The hour of noon was drawing nigh. The scene 
 was a delightful one, for the eye could see the silent 
 flowing river, the green waving prairie grass, in 
 the distance the indistinct mountains reaching to 
 the blue skies, while the teepees of the village 
 and the constantly-moving forms of the Indians 
 added picturesqueness to the view. At any other 
 time, if free from the dreadful uncertainty which 
 now oppressed him, Wellington would have been 
 charmed with the scene ; but now his anxious eyes 
 
THE GLADIATORS. 249 
 
 watched every move, his alert ears listened to every 
 sound, awaiting he knew not what. 
 
 As the shadow of a warrior indicated the hour 
 of noon, a cry went up, and a circle, perhaps one 
 hundred and fifty feet in diameter, was formed. 
 The scene was full of animation and color: first 
 the squaws encompassing the battle-ground; at 
 their feet nestled children of all sizes ; then came 
 half-grown boys and girls ; then old men, and war 
 riors standing, men who were too poor to own or 
 too friendless to borrow a pony; back of them 
 hundreds of ponies stood facing the ring, their 
 riders painted and streaked with glaring colors, 
 while above horses and riders sharp-pointed spears 
 glistened in countless numbers. It was a wild, 
 weird gathering, and such as could be found only 
 among savage tribes. 
 
 As Wellington viewed the romantic spectacle 
 through his soft and yielding mask, his horse was 
 led to him. It was sleek with summer grazing, 
 compactly built, with fire shining in its dark eyes, 
 while it sniffed and pranced as if anticipating the 
 contest. In truth, the horse was accustomed to 
 these mounted battles, and, as the interpreter told 
 "Wellington, should be guided by the pressure of 
 the knees and the swaying of the body, for he was 
 thoroughly trained, and could be depended on for 
 guidance without the use of the reins. The spear 
 which was given him was made of hickory, with a 
 blunted end covered with some soft material, which 
 
250 MANULITO. 
 
 prevented any serious injury arising from its com 
 ing into forcible contact with a person. This spear 
 was used only in mimic contests, and in practice 
 where injury was to be avoided. 
 
 The warrior who was to contest with Wellington 
 now appeared, splendidly mounted, and wearing a 
 mask which was the counterpart of his opponent s. 
 He was naked to the waist, while gayly-beaded 
 trousers of fringed buckskin covered his limbs. 
 In his right hand he lightly held his spear, while 
 his left arm was thrust into loops of leather, which 
 held his shield firmly to his forearm. His shield 
 was oval in shape, studded in the centre by a brass 
 head, while the frame was covered with several 
 thicknesses of buffalo-hide, dried and toughened, 
 making it almost impossible of penetration. The 
 surface was artistically painted, depicting a wolf at 
 bay, while Wellington s shield represented an eagle 
 swooping down on its prey, a fleeing bird. 
 
 The warrior was mounted without a saddle, but 
 with straps suspended from the surcingle holding 
 stirrups, by reason of which he could strike with 
 greater force. Wellington was permitted the use 
 of his saddle. 
 
 When the attendants lifted their hands, signifying 
 that the contestants were ready, the chief, Running 
 Water, advanced, raised his spear, and said, 
 
 " All pale-faces are not cowards. All do not flee 
 at the howling of the wolves, the screech of the 
 wild-cat, or the war-whoop of the Comanches. 
 
THE GLADIATORS. 251 
 
 Such a pale-face we have among us to-day. He is 
 brave, but has no experience in our mode of war 
 fare. Our champion will teach him how warriors 
 
 fight." 
 
 This was interpreted to Wellington, who smiled 
 in reply. As the chief raised his spear as a signal 
 for the struggle to begin, a wild yell arose, and the 
 brave who was to do battle wheeled his horse and 
 went to the farthest limit of the circle, in order to 
 increase his speed and the strength of his attack. 
 "Wellington s horse sprang forward, and they met 
 with levelled spears, but the Comanche swerved, 
 and their weapons rattled harmlessly on their 
 shields. This seemed to arouse the enthusiasm of 
 the Indians, and they yelled with delight in antici 
 pation of what was to come. The Comanche un 
 derestimated his opponent s skill, for, when they 
 again met, he aimed at Wellington s face, and in 
 doing so left a portion of his body unprotected. 
 .Wellington was quick to take advantage of it, for 
 he deftly changed the direction of his spear, and 
 before the savage could move his shield the blunt 
 head struck him in the side, almost unseating him. 
 At this the Indians, although completely surprised, 
 raised a howl of congratulation in their own dialect. 
 
 The warrior w^as now on his mettle, and, at the 
 next advance, both horses came at fullest speed, 
 and the spears struck each opposing shield in the 
 centre with such force that the riders almost fell 
 backward from their horses. 
 
252 MANULITO. 
 
 "Wellington now urged his spirited steed to its 
 best, intending to unseat his antagonist, but his 
 spear passed harmlessly over the horse, for the 
 Indian had slipped over its back, and was looking 
 at his rival from beneath the animal s neck. This 
 exhibition of horsemanship by one of their tribe 
 gratified the Indians beyond expression, and the 
 braves showed their delight by jumping up and 
 down, howling, and kicking their dogs into a 
 yelping chorus. 
 
 At the next charge, Wellington aimed low, not 
 intending that his adversary should play the same 
 trick again, but in doing so he left himself a trifle 
 exposed, which resulted in a bruising graze on his 
 side, while his own spear clattered against his 
 adversary s shield. 
 
 The chief now raised his spear as a signal for a 
 cessation of the hostilities. Honors were even, and 
 both men and horses needed rest, for their attacks 
 had been frequent and spirited. They were both 
 congratulated on their skill, while their horses, 
 breathing fast from their running and flecked with 
 foam, were watered and vigorously rubbed down. 
 
 And now, for the first time, Wellington learned 
 the intention of his captors, for Running Water 
 made a speech reciting the treachery of the whites, 
 their attempts to deprive the Indians of their lands, 
 their broken treaties, and reminding his men that 
 each tribe had determined to put a stop for all 
 time to come to the advances of the whites in 
 
THE GLADIATORS. 253 
 
 their territory, and that, in order to do this most 
 effectually, every white man who came into their 
 power must die. But of Wellington, on account 
 of his bravery, they would make an exception, and 
 would give him his liberty on condition that he 
 was victorious in a life and death contest with his 
 adversary. 
 
 "When Wellington heard this, he tried in every 
 way to alter their determination, for he did not 
 wish to gain his liberty in this way. But when he 
 learned that if he refused he would be turned over 
 to the squaws, he inwardly prayed for success, and 
 determined that if his liberty must be gained as 
 they said, he would win, or die fighting for his 
 freedom. 
 
 The antagonists were then handed spears with 
 points of sharpened steel, while around their waists 
 belts were placed, in which were thrust long hunt 
 ing-knives with stag-horn handles, wrapped with 
 small thongs of the sinews of the deer to keep 
 them from slipping in their hands. 
 
 As the determined men took their places, each 
 was again told that it must be a battle to the death. 
 Wellington was reminded that he was to fight for 
 his liberty. While the Indian was admonished of 
 the honor of his tribe, which he would either sus 
 tain or suffer to pale beneath the banner of disgrace. 
 The signal for the battle was given, but the first 
 contest had served to enlighten the combatants 
 concerning each other s skill, and each guarded 
 
 22 
 
254 MANULITO. 
 
 against the agility and the cunning of his foe. 
 The horses appeared to know that the contest was 
 one of life and death, for their dilated eyes, their 
 quick movements, seemed to indicate their desire 
 for the success of their riders. 
 
 While, in the preliminary battle, the onlookers 
 chatted and were at times inattentive, there now 
 reigned the stillness of night, as each one looked 
 on with closed lips and bated breath, for they knew 
 that with those wicked spears the battle would be 
 of short duration. The horses wheeled and circled, 
 dashed forward at lightning speed, then, before a 
 blow could be struck, suddenly veered to one side. 
 At last, they charged directly at one another. The 
 Comanches held their breath, for they expected 
 the battle was ended. Not so ! for the shields re 
 ceived the spears at a slight incline, and, instead 
 of piercing through, they glanced aside, leaving a 
 long white seam on each shield. 
 
 The Indians did not expect such skill as this on 
 the part of Wellington, and when they saw it, they 
 were generous enough to acknowledge it by a yell 
 that could have been heard for miles. All their 
 love for strife and blood was now aroused. They 
 wanted the fight ended, and urged their champion 
 by words and vigorous gestures to finish the battle. 
 But he recognized too well the skill of his antago 
 nist to do anything rash. At the next sally, just 
 as the stroke was made, Wellington s horse stum 
 bled slightly, and the Indian made a quick pass 
 
THE GLADIATORS. 255 
 
 that would have been fatal had not Wellington 
 thrown himself far to his horse s side. He saved 
 himself, hut the spear slightly cut his arm, tearing 
 the sleeve from his shirt in a great broad strip, and 
 exposing his white muscular arm with blood trick 
 ling from it. At sight of this, pandemonium 
 seemed let loose, for the air was hideous with yells 
 and whoops. But "Wellington was more deter 
 mined than ever, and rushing forward his horse at 
 its greatest speed, his spear grazed the Indian s 
 side, from which there sprang a great red welt, out 
 of which the blood slowly oozed. 
 
 Now the Indian sought revenge, and as they 
 met in mid-arena, his charge was so impetuous 
 that Wellington swung far to one side. As he did 
 so his heart sank, for the girth had severed, he 
 fell heavily to the ground, and his spear, which 
 was under him, snapped with his weight. As the 
 Indians saw this they were wild with delight, for 
 victory now rested with their tribe. Their as 
 tonishment, however, was intense when they saw 
 their champion leap from his horse, cast aside his 
 spear, draw his knife, and advance to meet his foe. 
 They could scarcely believe their eyes, and howled 
 their condemnation, for an Indian does not believe 
 in open warfare, and thought that now, when their 
 champion had the white man at his spear s point, 
 he was needlessly risking his life in prolonging 
 the battle. Wellington was as much astonished as 
 they were, for he had thought his time had come. 
 
256 MANUL1TO. 
 
 Seeing the Indian advancing, he drew his knife, 
 and then they who had fought so long on horse 
 back continued their battle on foot. 
 
 As they advanced, then circled or retreated, 
 their shields swayed up and down like limbs moved 
 by the wind, and yet their movements were in 
 perfect rhythm. They were a pair of warriors fit 
 for any arena. Their deep breathing was plainly 
 heard, a sudden crash the quick glittering of 
 knives and then, as they sprang back, they ap 
 peared unhurt, for their shields had received the 
 blows, and their skill had saved their lives. Again 
 the attack was made ; their left limbs were inter 
 twined, and through their masks their eyes glared 
 with deadly ferocity, for each was determined to 
 end this equal contest. Blow after blow was given, 
 but the broad shields protected them. Down the 
 side of one, down the arm of the other, the blood 
 trickled. With a parting blow and a strong back 
 ward push they separated. Such a battle as this 
 the spectators had never seen before, and the 
 Indians were now too interested to yell, but ear 
 nestly watched every movement of the gladiators. 
 
 As they stood panting for breath, Running 
 Water advanced, and said, 
 
 " Two greater warriors never lived ! Remove 
 their masks, that when one is struck in death he 
 may go before the Great Spirit remembering the 
 face of the warrior who sent him." 
 
 At this the masks were removed; but as they 
 
MANUL1TO. 257 
 
 were, both combatants stepped back in astonish 
 ment. One exclaimed, 
 
 "My God! It s Manulito!" while the other 
 sprang into his arms and said, 
 
 " The Gray Eagle ! Oh, my brother, we meet 
 again !" 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 MANULITO. 
 
 " By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see 
 
 (For one who hath no friend, no brother there) 
 
 Their rival scarfs of mix d embroidery, 
 
 Their various arms that glitter in the air." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 THE spectators were amazed, and cries of rage 
 and disappointment filled the air, but the reunited 
 pair heeded them not. Wellington stood with his 
 arm around Manulito, the tears trickling down his 
 face, while the Indian seemed trying to devour him 
 with his loving glances, and tenderly brushed the 
 hair from Wellington s perspiring forehead, and 
 softly said, his voice trembling with suppressed 
 emotion, 
 
 " At last the prayers of Manulito are answered, 
 and the Great Spirit has permitted him to see his 
 brother again !" 
 
 r ^ 22* 
 
258 MANULITO. 
 
 As is often the case when one becomes so inter 
 ested in some pleasure as to fail to note the coming 
 of a direful event, so in the excitement of the mo 
 ment these two were entirely unconscious of the 
 rage and baffled desires of the disappointed Co- 
 rnanches. The exhibition of their feelings was 
 like the approach of a storm ; murmurs half sup 
 pressed reached the ear at uncertain intervals, like 
 the wailing of the winds through the forest, or its 
 whistling down the canon ; then came deep mut- 
 terings, like the distant reverberation of thunder, 
 the angry flash was seen, and then, when Welling 
 ton and Manulito raised their eyes, they were 
 startled at their situation, for they were within a 
 circle of levelled and steel-pointed spears. 
 
 Astonishment and indignation were depicted on 
 the face of Manulito. 
 
 " What means all this ?" said he, in the Indian 
 language, while his form trembled with suppressed 
 rage. 
 
 " It means," said Running Water, " that the Black 
 Wolf has forgotten the vows of his adopted tribe ! 
 It means that his heart is changed, for, instead of 
 upholding the honor of his people and defending 
 their rights against the whites, his heart is softened, 
 he has become a squaw ! It means that instead 
 of killing his enemy, as he agreed to do in the 
 solemn council, he forgets the pledge intrusted to 
 him, and like a squaw who has been parted from 
 her sister for a week, seeks his arms ! It me ans 
 
MANULITO. 259 
 
 that my tribe and my warriors are disgraced ! Your 
 battle was to be to the death, and to the death it 
 shall be, not with the white man, but with my 
 braves !" 
 
 " He is a coward !" exclaimed a voice. 
 
 "A coward !" exclaimed Manulito, as he violently 
 broke his necklace and flung it to the ground. " A 
 coward !" he repeated, fiercely, as if he had mis 
 taken the word, and his voice choked with violent 
 emotion. " Who calls the Black Wolf a coward ? 
 Is there a man among you who dares to step from 
 amid these walls of pointed spears and say to the 
 Black Wolf, You are a coward ? Around the 
 Black Wolf there are hundreds of warriors ; then let 
 not an unknown voice from the midst of this armed 
 array accuse him of being a coward. Manulito a 
 coward ! Let him who dares to speak that word step 
 from the ranks of his tribe ! Let this wall of steel 
 open, then close, and in the closing leave him and 
 Manulito within its circle. Then shall a just ven 
 geance be wreaked, for by the spirit of his dead 
 father, the Black Wolf swears that he will cut that 
 warrior s tongue from his throat, and while he yet 
 lives will hang his reeking scalp to his belt ! Cow 
 ard ? Oh !" he sneered, as he glared at one, then an 
 other, " it is safe to call a warrior such a name when 
 he who dares not show himself is hemmed in and 
 protected by armed warriors ! The Black Wolf has 
 not forgotten his vows. He never took oath to wage 
 war against the whites. Has he not at all times 
 
260 MANULITO. 
 
 and places upheld the honor of your people ? Has 
 he disgraced you ? If so, in what ? For he stands 
 before you alive and strong, ready to battle for 
 your rights, or to defy your vengeance, but not to 
 injure one hair of this man s head. Injure him ? 
 "Why, he is my brother ! And the laws of your 
 tribe demand the life of him who slays his brother. 
 My brother ? Yes, in the sight of man and in the 
 sight of God ! You know him not. He is the 
 Gray Eagle, noble, generous, brave, good, and his 
 soul is possessed of all the virtues that are given to 
 men ! And even if he did not possess all these, 
 still Manulito would protect him, because he is his 
 brother ! And when your warriors insult the Black 
 Wolf, confined as he is, unable to fight as warriors 
 love to fight, when they revile and upbraid him, 
 they are like squaws, who, when a warrior is cap 
 tive and cannot defend himself, cut him with 
 knives, pierce him with sharpened sticks, or flay 
 him with raw-hides, though were he free, they 
 would flee in terror ! They are like wolves, who, 
 when alone, are afraid of the stag, but when that 
 stag is at bay, and there are scores or hundreds or 
 thousands of them, will worry it to exhaustion and 
 tear it to pieces ! They are like pappooses who flee 
 at the cry of the mountain-lion, but when once it 
 is captured, its fangs removed, and it is bound 
 with thongs, are brave, and can torture it!" 
 
 His cutting words enraged his hearers, and it 
 seemed as if they would pierce him with their 
 
MANULITO. 261 
 
 spears. He read their thoughts, but was absolutely 
 fearless. 
 
 " Strike, if you will !" continued he. " Manulito 
 fears not death, and death alone will keep him from 
 protecting his brother. And this is his reward for 
 what he has done for his adopted tribe ! Who 
 among you dares to say that Manulito ever shrank 
 from any danger ? Who among you can say that 
 Manulito dared not lead where others hesitated to 
 follow ? Who among you can say that he ever lost 
 a fight, whether in single combat or at the head of 
 his warriors ? Who was it that, when sick at his 
 lodge, scarce able to walk, mounted his war-horse, 
 and in command of old men and squaws, defended 
 your village against the picked warriors of the 
 Apaches ? Who was it that, when your tribe was 
 scourged with the small-pox, remained from the 
 war-path and nursed and cared for your sick? 
 Who was it that, when clouds burst from the skies 
 and flooded the village with water, defied the storm 
 and saved your people ? Who was it that, when 
 captured by the Apaches and bound to his horse, 
 escaped and fled, while his pursuers were like cows 
 chasing a deer, when they sought to overtake the 
 Imp o Darkness ? Who was it that saved the war 
 rior, your interpreter, the Big Elk, when in the 
 hands of the Arapahoes ?" 
 
 " It was Manulito !" thundered the voice of the 
 Big Elk. 
 
 "And for all these things," continued Manu- 
 
262 MANULITO. 
 
 lito, " for months and years of service and friend 
 ship and teaching of methods of warfare and lead 
 ing you to victory and saving your village and 
 nursing your sick, yes, for all these his reward is 
 to be death ! It matters not to the Black Wolf, 
 for he has long sought death ! He has no home, 
 and has long been ready to die ! But his brother 
 shall be saved." And then he told the story of 
 his life with Wellington, speaking with the deepest 
 emotion as he recalled the many kindnesses he had 
 received at his hands. His speech had a visible 
 effect, and yet there were some who could not allow 
 their love of strife and bloodshed to be overcome 
 by sympathy for an adopted member of their tribe 
 and for a white man, whose race they hated, and 
 these insisted that the fight be renewed. 
 
 " It shall not be renewed !" exclaimed Manulito, 
 glaring around him ; " for sooner than raise his 
 hand against his brother, Manulito would die by 
 his own knife. You want to see me fight," said 
 he, his veins swelling with anger. " You shall be 
 gratified. Stand back, that the Black Wolf may 
 have room !" 
 
 Appalled by his terrible anger, they insensibly 
 fell back before him, as he stood, his shield in po 
 sition for battle, his left foot advanced, his right 
 arm extended far above his head, his hand waving 
 his glittering knife, while his eyes were raised as if 
 calling Heaven to witness his awful threat of ven 
 geance as he defied his tribe. 
 
MANULITO. 263 
 
 " And now that you want blood shed, it shall be 
 so, for Manulito challenges every warrior in your 
 tribe to single combat. Let the strongest and the 
 bravest come first, for Manulito will fight for his 
 brother, and the Great Spirit will give strength to 
 his arm, and when his body is covered with wounds 
 and he is weakened from loss of blood, he will 
 strike again and again, and when his strength has 
 failed him, and his willing heart cannot longer up 
 raise his tired arm, he will receive his death-blow 
 with a smile on his lips, and thank his God that he 
 died fighting to save his brother." 
 
 " No I no ! This shall not be !" exclaimed the 
 Big Elk. For if the Black Wolf fights one of you, 
 it must be over my dead body !" 
 
 " The Black Wolf is right," interrupted Running 
 Water. " The pale-face is his brother, and who 
 shall say that the brother of Manulito is not our 
 brother ?" 
 
 " He shall be our brother !" exclaimed scores of 
 voices. 
 
 Like an avalanche which hesitates, then starts, 
 and gathers increased force each moment, so the 
 warriors flocked to Manulito s support, until soon 
 all were with him. 
 
 During the fierce and impassioned speech of 
 Manulito, Wellington tried to read the thoughts 
 of the Indians, for Manulito spoke in their lan 
 guage. When he recalled to them the many things 
 he had done for their tribe, the benefits arising 
 
264 MANVLITO. 
 
 from his coming among them, their features soft 
 ened, and when later he told of his fraternal love, 
 and of his willingness to sacrifice his life in defence 
 of his brother, their eyes brightened with sym 
 pathy, they approved of his generosity, their chiv 
 alrous spirit was touched, the battle was won, and 
 "Wellington s life was saved. 
 
 The weird and picturesque scenes were for the 
 time lost to Wellington s observing eyes, for as he 
 stood surrounded by those who were so recently 
 his avowed enemies, the incidents of the past few 
 days seemed like a dream, and now the ferocity 
 which had darkened the faces of his captors gave 
 place to an expression of interest, made still more 
 pleasant by eyes which extended to him good-will 
 and a welcome. 
 
 Now that the strife was ended and the Coman- 
 ches had extended to Wellington the hand of 
 fraternity, they considered him a guest who had 
 honored their tribe by his presence, and they 
 sought the opportunity of showing him how truly 
 welcome he was among them. Manulito appre 
 ciated this, and while his adopted tribe were show 
 ing their delight in salutations and in various ways, 
 expressive of their friendship, his face was wreathed 
 in smiles, for in honoring his friend and brother 
 they were doing that which touched Manulito s 
 heart to its depth. As Wellington looked around 
 and saw the wildness of his surroundings and 
 recognized that he was free, and that those who 
 
MANULITO. 265 
 
 had sentenced him to death were now his firmest 
 friends, ready to serve him, to honor him, and if 
 need be, to die for him, his heart thrilled, and his 
 soul went out to these people. Manulito seemed 
 to read his thoughts, and he caught the spirit of 
 inspiration as he said, "As when the weary day 
 has gone to rest, soothed to sleep by the stars of 
 night, and the dew from heaven falls to the earth 
 like tears from thousands of angels eyes, so is this 
 sympathy arid generous interest to my tired brother 
 after his trials and sufferings. "When the sky is 
 darkest, and the wrath of the Great Spirit seems 
 centred in the angry clouds, and the thunders 
 strive to split the heavens, allowing the forked 
 lightning to escape, when all seems lost, the 
 clouds break away, the darkest ones are fringed 
 with silver and gold, reflected from the light of the 
 sun ; the thunders subside into distant mutterings ; 
 the sun shines again, and the drops of rain sparkle 
 on the prairie grass ; the birds sing more sweetly, 
 and all the earth rejoices : storms and past dangers 
 are forgotten, and the happiness of the present 
 banishes the threats of the past. So is it with my 
 brother s life." 
 
 "Yes! yes!" exclaimed Wellington, "you are 
 the same Manulito; the same philosopher; the 
 same dear friend; you make the same beautiful 
 comparisons, wherein the sky, the earth, the sea 
 sons, and all nature serve to better illustrate your 
 thoughts. But your friends are looking askance at 
 M 23 
 
266 MANULITO. 
 
 you and me, wondering, perhaps, of what we are 
 talking. We have much to say, but not here. 
 Let us show them our appreciation of their hospi 
 tality, and to-night, in the seclusion of your lodge, 
 we will live over again many of the incidents of 
 our lives." 
 
 As Wellington finished, Running Water and his 
 warriors were waiting deferentially for the conclu 
 sion of the conversation, and Manulito, who spoke 
 both the Comanche and the English languages, 
 acted as interpreter, and said, " My white brother, 
 the Gray Eagle, awaits the pleasure of our chief, 
 the warrior Running Water." 
 
 " Say to the Gray Eagle," said Running Water, 
 " that the brother of Manulito is our brother ; 
 that our lodges are open to him; that we have 
 venison and buffalo-meat in plenty ; and that we 
 hope he will remain with us for many days, for 
 then he can see our dances, can see how we wel 
 come a brother from another tribe, and, great 
 hunter that he is, can join us in our buffalo-hunt." 
 
 Manulito interpreted the speech to Welllington, 
 who smilingly said, " Well, Manulito, I guess you 
 will have to talk for me this time ; but tell him that 
 I thank him for these manifestations of kindness, 
 and appreciate the generous sentiments expressed, 
 but that I fear my visit must be short, as I must 
 return to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow !" exclaimed Manulito, in deep sur 
 prise, while his tone conveyed the depth of his 
 
MANULITO. 267 
 
 feelings. " To-morrow ! And must the separation 
 of years be renewed so soon ? Must Manulito in 
 so short a time have dashed from his lips the cup 
 of happiness which is nqw overflowing ? To-mor 
 row? That is but a day. The sun will sink to 
 rest, the stars shine through the night, the gray of 
 dawn appear, the sun rise over yonder hill, mount 
 to the highest heavens, and then my brother will 
 be gone, perhaps forever, for to-morrow will be 
 here. "What Manulito has prayed for for years has 
 happened, his brother has come. But like the will- 
 o -the-wisp which flashes in the lowland on a sum 
 mer s evening and then as suddenly disappears, so 
 would my brother s visit be. To-morrow? No I 
 that cannot be, for Manulito could not talk when 
 the day was turned to night, the night to an hour, 
 and the hour to fleeting moments. Let Manulito 
 say what his heart prompts him to." And ad 
 dressing Running Water, he said, 
 
 " The Gray Eagle thanks you all for the kindness 
 you show him in asking him to dwell with you for 
 many days. He knows how welcome he is, how 
 much he would enjoy being with you. He has not 
 decided how long he can stay, but at least will 
 remain until he may see how the children of the 
 prairie hunt the buffalo." 
 
 To this Running Water replied that he hoped 
 the Gray Eagle would conclude to make them a 
 long visit, a wish in which the heart of Manulito 
 fervently acquiesced. 
 
268 MANULITO. 
 
 The afternoon was passed by Wellington and 
 Manulito in visiting the villagers, and "Wellington 
 soon became a stanch favorite, for he had a kind 
 word and a pleasant smile for all. Active prepara- 
 rations had been made for the Buffalo-Dance which 
 was to occur that night, and as twilight came on 
 the chiefs and warriors seated themselves in a semi 
 circle in readiness for the coming ceremony. The 
 buffalo-hunt had been decided on for many days, for 
 at this season of the year provision was always made 
 for the following winter. The success of the hunts 
 was more or less dependent on chance, for at times 
 game was found in great abundance, and again it 
 was quite scarce. As their winter stores depended 
 largely upon these hunts, the most ample prepara 
 tions were made for them. These people were firm 
 believers in the existence of a deity, and to him 
 they constantly appealed, not so much by personal 
 intercession as through the pleadings, sacrifices, 
 and prayers of their medicine-men, whom they 
 believed had occult power with their Manitou. 
 These medicine-men had fasted and made sacrifices 
 for a number of days, and now the common people 
 and the warriors were to offer a last plea, which 
 consisted in a supplicatory dance, showing their 
 humiliation and their craving for the aid and sup 
 port of the Great Spirit. As the spectators sat or 
 stood in the glare of the fire which was reflected 
 on the many dark but earnest faces, the scene was 
 impressive beyond description. There was a deep 
 
MANUL1TO. 269 
 
 solemnity about the occasion which conveyed to 
 Wellington the sincerity of the participants. Man- 
 ulito gazed at his white brother interrogatively, and 
 then, as if satisfied with a silent answer, looked 
 steadily forward, knowing that his friend sympa 
 thized with these earnest men, who were illiterate, 
 untutored, savage, but were still controlled by the 
 love for one whom they could not see, but in whom 
 they had implicit faith. As the fire blazed higher, 
 twelve buffalo-skulls were placed on the ground in 
 a semicircle, while near them stood medicine-men 
 with bows and arrows, consecrated by frequent in 
 vocations and the use of sacred herbs. The medi 
 cine-men bowed their heads in silent prayer, or in 
 low tones besought the Great Spirit to sanction 
 the hunt and lead the band to success. The peti 
 tioners showed their humility not only in their atti 
 tudes, but in their quivering voices as they asked 
 that their prayers be answered. When these old 
 men had finished their invocations, a drum sounded 
 with a rumbling noise, and there sprang into the 
 circle a number of almost naked warriors, who 
 danced with noisy demonstrations of delight, as if 
 the hunt was an assured success. When these were 
 exhausted others filled their places, and so the dance 
 was prolonged throughout the night. 
 
 Wellington and Manulito remained until mid 
 night, and then they repaired to the lodge of the 
 latter. As they entered the door, Wellington turned 
 and said, " And this, Manulito, is your home. I 
 
 23* 
 
270 MANULITO. 
 
 never thought to visit it, but now that I am within 
 its portals, I have a feeling of security that I have 
 not experienced before. How natural everything 
 seems ! Natural, and yet all these beautiful tro 
 phies of your skill with the rifle are strange to me. 
 But there is about your lodge an evidence of civ 
 ilization which would convince any one that its 
 owner was accustomed to a home among the better 
 class of white people. How contented I am !" con 
 tinued he, as he seated himself on a divan of skins 
 of the mountain-lion, while his feet rested in the 
 long white fleece of the wild goat. " And how 
 beautifully you have adorned your lodge ! As I 
 look around and see the evidences of your skill, 
 the robes of deer and wolves, of antelope and bear, 
 and on your walls the feathers of the golden eagle 
 and the great bald eagle, it seems as if the birds 
 and beasts have all paid tribute to you. And then, 
 how natural the head of that grizzly, with its hor 
 rid teeth !" 
 
 As Wellington proceeded, Manulito had seated 
 himself at his visitor s feet, and each complimentary 
 word was like music in his ears. He looked up 
 into Wellington s face as a slave would gaze at 
 his beloved master. " And so you like my home ?" 
 inquired he. 
 
 " Like it !" said Wellington. " It s grand ! It s 
 beautiful !" 
 
 " Oh, I thank you for those words !" said the In 
 dian. "For whenever Manulito added a trophy to 
 
MANULITO. 271 
 
 his wigwam his heart always went out to his brother, 
 and he longed for him to be here to see and enjoy 
 these things. But my brother is tired. lie must 
 sleep, and when he sleeps Manulito will ask aloud, 
 as his heart has always asked, that the Great Spirit 
 will watch over him and protect him." At this 
 Manulito drew the curtain ; but when Wellington 
 had fallen asleep the Indian softly entered and sat 
 with folded arms beside his sleeping brother, while 
 a smile of satisfaction played over his noble face. 
 
 Wellington slept soundly until the morning was 
 far advanced, and when he awakened he was dazed 
 for a moment, uncertain of his situation ; but his 
 faithful friend was waiting for him and cheerfully 
 greeted him. All through the morning the tribe 
 waited with anxious expectation the return of the 
 couriers who had been sent out to locate the wan 
 dering herds of buffalo. It was late in the day 
 when they returned, and then they told of an im 
 mense herd that was grazing many hours travel 
 from the village. Distance, however, was no obsta 
 cle to their hunt, for hours frequently lengthened 
 into days when they were on the chase, and the hope 
 of finding game was the delicacy that whetted their 
 appetites for the excitement and pleasure they an 
 ticipated. It was therefore decided that they should 
 begin the journey at once, approach within a few 
 miles of the herd, and then at break of day ad 
 vance on their errand of destruction. Officers 
 were selected and put in command, for any indis- 
 
272 MANULITO. 
 
 criminate hunting or unsystematic pursuit would 
 result in simply frightening the game, and would 
 destroy their chances of success. Very soon the 
 cavalcade set out, a joyous crowd, for at the start 
 there was no necessity for silence, as the game was 
 too far from them to render any precautions neces 
 sary. 
 
 First rode the warriors on their horses; then 
 came others, fleet of foot, hut not owning ponies ; 
 then squaws and boys, mounted and leading pack- 
 horses, while all were provided with the materials 
 for the immediate care of the skins and meat. Far 
 in advance of this immense train, scouts stood on 
 elevated points and beckoned the hunters to ad 
 vance. The sentinels were guided by a system of 
 silent telegraphy, whereby others, who were still 
 farther advanced, signalled the condition of the 
 outlook. Thus they travelled along until the hours 
 lengthened ; but, strange as it seemed, those on foot 
 were tireless, and walked and ran with comparative 
 ease, apparently incapable of fatigue. They ques 
 tioned not the distance, but trotted along, at times 
 flogging the lagging ponies or jerking them by 
 their rope-bridles to quicken their speed. The 
 squaws chatted, and, riding astride their ponies, 
 seemed to keep up a continuous thumping of their 
 heels against the ribs of the patient animals. 
 
 As Wellington and Manulito rode side by side, 
 the former said, " I have wished so many times, 
 Mauulito, that you could look in at our fireside 
 
MANULITO. 273 
 
 and see the beautiful picture of domestic happiness 
 that has always blessed my home. And so many 
 times in the fall, or more especially in mid-winter, 
 when the crackling fire threw out its generous 
 heat, and when the twilight was fast usurping the 
 light of the dying day, we found our greatest de 
 light in talking and thinking of you. Imagine a 
 room furnished with rich but not gaudy furniture ; 
 with curtains, carpets, walls and ceilings, blending 
 their colors with perfect harmony; beautiful pict 
 ures seem to fill each niche and vacant spot ; the 
 mantels are ornamented with dainty bric-a-brac, 
 while curiosities from other climes add to the 
 beauty and variety of this, our sitting-room. Be 
 fore the fire, which sputters and crackles, just as 
 our grate fire did at the old homestead years ago, 
 there are seated father, mother, sister, and brother. 
 Our boy is quite a young man now, and he re 
 members you so well, and hopes to see you ; and 
 our little girl, you would know her anywhere ; she 
 is still the pure, good angel she always was, grown 
 taller, of course, and more beautiful. On those 
 wintry nights when the winds shriek through the 
 trees and wires I appreciate most my pleasant and 
 happy home. And when I see and enjoy those 
 sights, although I am not what the world calls a 
 Christian, Manulito, I am willing to admit that I 
 have many times secretly thanked God for those 
 blessings. 
 
 "In that room, Manulito, is a picture which 
 
274 MANUL1TO. 
 
 we prize more than anything we possess. It 
 hangs over the mantel, and when, as is often the 
 case, our home is thrown open to receive our 
 friends, including among them men wise in juris 
 prudence, renowned in literature, and skilled in 
 art, there are none so high in positions of honor 
 that they have not been fascinated with it. It is 
 my inspiration, Manulito, and seems to lead me to 
 greater thoughts, and surely to better deeds ; I 
 love to talk of it, and when I am before it, and 
 speak of him who gazes down on me with such 
 quiet dignity, my soul is in sweet communion with 
 him, for I know the purity of his heart. It s only 
 a picture, Manulito, only a picture. But every 
 line is a mine of pleasant reminiscences to me. 
 
 " The picture," continued Wellington, " is one 
 of the most perfect I have ever seen. The figures 
 are so accurately drawn that they seem imbued 
 with life ; the moonlight streams through the trees, 
 giving the shadows a denser gloom ; the leaves 
 seem to tremble in the night air, while one almost 
 feels the soft balm of the summer night. It was 
 painted, Manulito, by a celebrated artist who had 
 never seen the landscape or the figures, but I had 
 seen both, and the sight was so indelibly impressed 
 on my heart and mind, that each tree, each bush, 
 every vein on the horse, even the position of his 
 flowing mane and the curve of his sweeping tail, 
 were before my sight. And if I could remember 
 these minor things, so as to depict them to this 
 
MANULITO. 275 
 
 artist and point out to him each trifling variation 
 between his work and the picture in ray mind, 
 always suggesting a correct alteration, if, as I say, 
 I could do this, is it strange that when the rider s 
 face was so indelibly engraven on my very soul, I 
 could tell how he looked, his forehead, his eyes, 
 his nose, his mouth ? They were photographed on 
 my heart, and my eyes, as agents of my heart, were 
 able to recognize any defect in the painting. It is 
 a picture of you, Manulito, of you and Imp o 
 Darkness, the night you waved us that last sad 
 farewell, the night you left our home, as we 
 believed, forever. 
 
 " And when I look at the painting, it seems as 
 if my eyes see you just as you looked that night, 
 slowly threading your way among the trees, then 
 temporarily disappearing. And my anxious ears 
 hear, then lose again, the footfalls of your noble 
 horse, until at last you are on the brow of the hill, 
 yourself and steed in distant outline against the 
 sky, as you give a last wave of your hand. When 
 I look at your picture my ambition is greater ; my 
 thoughts purer and nobler ; my life better. That 
 painting is my guiding star, for in it you seem to 
 beckon me ever forward to greater deeds. So in 
 years to come, when you think of that picture, let 
 that love for us grow stronger, for you will know 
 that you are not forgotten. My successes and 
 triumphs, the pleasures that money bring, will not 
 change my love towards you. Those things are 
 
276 MANULITO. 
 
 temporal and secondary; for this strange friend 
 ship which has existed and united us in life will be 
 severed only by death. And should it please the 
 Great Spirit to take you first, I want your trusted 
 friends to know the place of your burial, that I 
 may visit that sacred spot; for I know that the 
 gates of heaven would be opened, that you might 
 look down and see him who was faithful in life 
 weeping at your grave. " 
 
 It seemed as if Manulito s heart was too full for 
 speech, as he listened to this avowal of love from 
 the man he idolized. And he rode along, his head 
 bowed, as if he could not find words to express his 
 feelings. 
 
 Suddenly the signal to halt was given by the 
 advance sentinel, and at once they all became as 
 silent as death, for that signal indicated that the 
 herd had been found. The silence was too oppres 
 sive, however, and the Indians began to indulge in 
 subdued talk, as if they were unable to restrain 
 their ardor. Just then a warrior, who was recog 
 nized as one of the scouts, was seen riding hastily 
 towards them, and he reported that the herd was 
 resting quietly within a few miles from there. 
 
 As it was not yet light, they concluded to rest 
 for a few hours. 
 
THE CHASE, 277 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 THE CHASE. 
 
 " Like yelling fiends the tribes are out, 
 With nourish d lances, with frantic shout I 
 Each plume of feathers, each scalp-lock tress, 
 Streams in the breeze of the wilderness ; 
 While fast and far, in desperate race, 
 Speeds on the bison, speeds on the chase." 
 
 McLELLAN. 
 
 AT break of day, the Indians selected their 
 ponies, and preparations were made for the ad 
 vance. The scouting-parties reported that the herd 
 was still at the same place, unsuspicious of danger 
 and quietly grazing. Couriers were again sent out, 
 and the band was at once placed under the strict 
 orders of their commanders. "No firearms were per 
 mitted to be used, except by "Wellington, for they 
 desired to do as much execution as possible without 
 more noise than was absolutely necessary. All 
 were armed with strong bows, lances, and a quiver 
 containing many arrows, but Manulito, on account 
 of the loss of his left hand, could use only lances. 
 
 As the Indians approached they displayed great 
 ingenuity, for it was necessary to surround the herd 
 and to disconcert them so that they would run dis 
 tractedly about. First, the fleetest footmen crawled 
 through the high grass and stopped at the spot 
 
 24 
 
278 MASULITO. 
 
 designated for them. There they lay concealed, 
 awaiting orders. AVhile they were waiting, others 
 stealthily surrounded the herd, and remained ready 
 to advance at the promised signal. Behind a rise 
 of ground which was quite near, the rest of the 
 party stood beside the ponies, ready to mount at a 
 moment s notice. 
 
 It had been previously arranged that those on 
 foot should begin the attack, and continue it as 
 long as they could keep the buffaloes within their 
 range, and then, after the beasts had stampeded, 
 the mounted Indians were to join in the pursuit 
 But in order that the buffaloes should not gain on 
 those who would be waiting, the mounted assail 
 ants intended following closely those who preceded 
 them on foot. While the carnage was expected and 
 desired to be great, those who slew the animals 
 were not to claim the meat, which went to the 
 first one getting it; but the robes belonged to 
 the slayers, who were easily known by their ar 
 rows, which always bore some private mark for 
 identification. Therefore, after the animals were 
 killed, the squaws removed the hides and carefully 
 rolled them up, leaving sticking to them the fatal 
 arrows, by which the owners afterwards claimed 
 them. Thus it often happened that some brave 
 who had killed the greatest number of buffaloes 
 would at the end of the day have an immense pile 
 of skins coming to him, but not a pound of meat, 
 because he had no squaw to provide for him, 
 
THE CHASE. 279 
 
 while some lazy hunter with a tireless squaw would 
 return to camp with his ponies laden with meat. 
 While this rule was far from equitable, still it was 
 the custom and entirely satisfactory to the parties 
 interested. 
 
 When all were ready for the attack the signal 
 was given, and hundreds of anxious eyes noted the 
 result of the first movement. Immediately there 
 were seen, skulking through the grass, several In 
 dians, who hopped along on their hands and knees, 
 imitating as closely as possible the motions of 
 wolves. They advanced, then hesitated and sat on 
 their haunches, following closely the movements 
 of those animals, for they knew the buffaloes were 
 accustomed to them. 
 
 At first the buffaloes paid no attention, but quietly 
 and indifferently grazed along, or now and then 
 raised their heads slightly, as if the boldness of the 
 intruders was worthy of some trifling notice. But 
 soon their indifference changed to interest, and that 
 interest to alarm, for they saw that the decoys were 
 different from the wolves which they were accus 
 tomed to seeing, and they shifted uneasily and 
 walked faster while grazing, rolling their great 
 eyes in watchfulness towards the intruders. Their 
 alarm grew to consternation, and those on the outer 
 edge surged and crowded against their neighbors, 
 who, not seeing the cause of the excitement, peace 
 fully submitted, or offered mild resistance by hook 
 ing or bunting those nearest them. 
 
280 MANULITO. 
 
 Curiosity has a strange power over animals, and 
 they will often defy danger for the moment in order 
 to investigate some mysterious sight. So it was with 
 these buffaloes : they recognized a danger, feared 
 it, and yet courted it ; for, instead of fleeing when 
 it was at a distance, they waited until it was upon 
 them, and several of the bolder ones advanced at 
 times with lowered heads, as if defying their strange 
 visitors, and then hastily retreated to the herd, as if 
 astonished at their own lack of discretion. By this 
 time the Indians were almost within effective arrow- 
 shot, and, simultaneously jumping to their feet, they 
 ran towards the closely-packed herd. Each Indian 
 picked his victim, and the twanging of their bows, 
 the thudding of the arrows as they sank into the 
 affrighted beasts, was speedily drowned by the 
 shuffling noise which accompanies the getting into 
 motion of a large body of animals. The buffaloes 
 squeezed together, trying to crowd over one an 
 other in their anxiety to run, and it was but a 
 few moments before all were in motion, and with 
 lowered heads dashed away. They had but fairly 
 gotten under headway, with their route determined 
 on, when, to their astonishment, scores of Indians 
 rose from the grass ahead of them, and, waving 
 their blankets and yelling wildly, changed the 
 course of the affrighted animals. As the hunters 
 saw this, they cheered louder than before, and ran 
 to the side line of the herd to take their part in the 
 slaughter. Whichever way the poor brutes ran, 
 
THE CHASE. 281 
 
 Indians arose as if by magic and changed their 
 course, until the prairie was a confused mass of 
 buffaloes and Indians on foot and on horseback. 
 
 The buffaloes were wild with terror, and the In 
 dians, crazy with excitement, forgot the element of 
 danger connected with the chase and boldly charged 
 into the midst of the herd ; then, when it seemed as 
 if they would be run down and crushed, they would 
 give a joyous whoop and drive their wicked spears 
 viciously into the panting brutes. For a long time 
 the coolness and cunning of the Indians kept the 
 buffaloes running in a circle, but as they seemed to 
 be getting away again, Manulito saw the necessity 
 of a bold move, and called to his companions, 
 " Turn them ! Turn them a little to the. east ! To 
 the river !" The orders passed from mouth to 
 mouth down the line ; and, as all recognized what 
 would be the effect, individual pursuit was almost 
 entirely stopped, and, like drilled soldiers, they 
 strove to obey orders. There was a strong swerv 
 ing and shying, but, when the buffaloes saw before 
 them an opening, the leaders darted towards it, and 
 the Indians increased the gap, yelling in great glee, 
 for the buffaloes were now running straight for the 
 river. 
 
 The formation of this stream was peculiar. At a 
 distance it could not be seen ; then its first appear 
 ance was a dark but narrow seam. Its banks were 
 precipitous, reaching from the river-bed to a height 
 of from twenty to forty feet. It was very low at 
 
 24* 
 
282 MANULITO. 
 
 this time of the year, being only from two to three 
 feet in depth, while the transparency of the water 
 plainly showed the sandy bed. As the buffaloes 
 neared this high bank, the leaders noticed it and 
 tried to shy from it, but hundreds were at their 
 heels, with noses trailing the ground, and pressed 
 those in advance firmly and swiftly forward to the 
 brink of destruction. Those at the extreme front 
 tried to avoid being crowded over the precipice, 
 but an avalanche of their wild companions rushed 
 upon them, and they struggled but for an instant, 
 then plunged into the river below. It seemed like 
 a black and shaggy stream falling into this unex 
 pected abyss, for buffaloes are like sheep, and, wildly 
 following their leaders footsteps, they poured over 
 this steep wall to fall upon a struggling mass of 
 their unfortunate fellows. As they extricated them 
 selves from the dead and wounded, they followed 
 the narrow winding stream, wading slowly down 
 with the current, and their life-blood reddened the 
 water as they were slain by their pursuers, who had 
 congregated on the bank above them. This im 
 mense slaughter elated the Indians, for, aside from 
 the sport of the chase, the success of the hunt 
 promised them sufficient meat for the entire sea 
 son s supply. Wellington watched with increased 
 interest the different manoeuvres of the day, and it 
 was a sight he never forgot. The Indians continued 
 their labor until long past midnight, preserving and 
 caring for the meat and hides secured during the 
 
THE CHASE. 283 
 
 day. They camped that night on the bank of the 
 river, and the following morning started for their 
 village. It was a motley sight, for almost every 
 pony was laden with the results of the chase, and 
 here and there some sedate Indian, the personi 
 fication of dignity, sat on a great heap of robes 
 which had been piled on his pony s back, giving it 
 the appearance of a camel with its great hump. 
 
 The second day they arrived at the village, and 
 as Wellington sat in Manulito s lodge, he said, 
 
 " Manulito, I have been with you for several days, 
 and you can imagine the anxiety of my friends, who 
 doubtless have given me up as dead, or think me a 
 captive without prospect of release. Out of regard 
 for their anxiety I ought to return to them without 
 delay. My stay with you has been all my heart 
 could have wished. I have visited with you, slept 
 beneath your blankets, and now that I must leave 
 you, it will be with a sad heart, for somehow I feel 
 that this parting between you and me must be for 
 a long, long time. We will hope to meet again, 
 and I know that with you, as with me, a separation 
 does not mean a severance of friendship, but, in 
 stead, our absence in the flesh will only strengthen 
 the golden link of love which binds our hearts 
 together." 
 
 " My brother speaks the truth," said Manulito, 
 feelingly, " and his words are full of tenderness and 
 love far sweeter than the voice of the thrush sing 
 ing to his mate. My brother s visit has been like 
 
284 MANUL1TO. 
 
 a dream, too good to be true. And when he has 
 gone, Manulito will sit at night gazing at the stars, 
 and recalling each word, each look, each thought ; 
 for when he can bring back these, even though it 
 be as in a dream, it will make the heart of Manu 
 lito glad. It seems," he continued, thoughtfully, 
 " it seems as if the happy hours in our lives are too 
 far apart. The anticipation of their coming is one 
 of our sweetest thoughts; then the event takes 
 place, and in our happiness we forget everything ; 
 then when tis over we look back, craving again 
 the anticipation and longing for what has been. 
 So with my brother s visit. It will be the bright 
 spot in Manulito s life; and the prairies and the 
 brooks, the mountains and the rivers, and every 
 spot where he wanders, and sits to think, or lies 
 down to rest, shall be silent witnesses of the sweet 
 thoughts which will warm his soul as he thinks of 
 the Gray Eagle s visit. 
 
 " And so my brother must go. And when he 
 does, it will be with that same blessing which years 
 ago he gave to another. Manulito will not urge 
 his brother to stay longer, but at his departure asks 
 him to take with him something for the wife, 
 something for the children, that they may know 
 that they still live in the heart of Manulito." 
 
 " It would not be necessary," replied Wellington, 
 " to send presents, or mementos of any kind to my 
 wife and children to remind them of you or your 
 affection. For your noble deeds have been so 
 
THE CHASE. 285 
 
 thoroughly impressed on their minds that time 
 will not efface them, and in imagination I can see 
 how, when I return and tell them of the exciting 
 incidents that have transpired during this journey, 
 their excitement and alarm will quickly yield to 
 softened expressions of relief when they find that 
 it was you who befriended me. But it is thought 
 ful of you, Manulito, to send testimonials of your 
 love to those who are nearest and dearest to me; 
 and although a man, I can understand a woman s 
 heart, and I know that the surest way to win a 
 mother s gratitude is to show kindness and affec 
 tion to her children. Your sending these presents 
 to them will be greatly appreciated, not so much 
 for the intrinsic value of the gifts, but because they 
 came from you. I tell you, Manulito, it is such 
 little tokens of tender affection, or pure friendship, 
 that let down the bars of our dreary lives and 
 permit us to enjoy a knowledge of the unselfish 
 ness of others. And if the good deeds we do live 
 after us, as you and I believe, then for years to 
 come this kindly remembrance which you show 
 will be as a lamp lighted by yourself, and kept 
 burning, for the spark will be renewed and the 
 fiames rekindled by my children and grandchil 
 dren. And as they see the mementos of your 
 generosity, they will tell how these things were 
 given to their grandfather, years and years ago, by a 
 great Indian chief, whose name was Manulito. It is 
 pleasant for us to think of this, isn t it, Manulito ?" 
 
286 MANULITO. 
 
 The Indian had been listening with a sad heart 
 and head bowed down, but now he raised his 
 eyes, which glistened with emotion, and feelingly 
 said, 
 
 " When the sky is at its brightest and the day 
 is in its greatest beauty, oftentimes a cloud creeps 
 from the prairie and hides from view the warm 
 sunshine, chilling the earth. So this departure of 
 my brother touches the heart of Manulito. The 
 visit of the Gray Eagle was like the coming of the 
 most perfect day, but now the dark cloud arises 
 and darkens the heart of Manulito. But when my 
 brother says that these gifts will be kept sacred 
 by his children s children, he pierces through the 
 clouds and lets a ray of sunshine appear. It is 
 sweet music to Manulito to hear his brother speak 
 as he has, for it is his only wish that, when he is 
 dead, all who have known him will speak kindly 
 of him. And he will ask of his brother only one 
 thing, that when he dies, over his grave a stone 
 may be placed with simply the name Manulito 
 cut upon it." 
 
 " I promise," said Wellington ; " but I hope we 
 will both live for many years, for my ambition is 
 far from being reached, and you can do so much 
 good with your adopted people. I wish I could 
 unfold my plans to you. I believe that there is a 
 time in the life of every man which if properly 
 improved will lead him to prosperity and renown. 
 I think that with me that time has arrived, and 
 
THE CHASE. 287 
 
 I want to leave a competency for my family and 
 a name of which they may be proud. Should I 
 live " 
 
 " Should you live !" earnestly interrupted Manu- 
 lito. " May the Great Spirit give you many years in 
 which to gratify your ambitions ! But no man can 
 tell. Storms and floods, diseases and death, come 
 everywhere. My brother" is mortal, and death 
 spares no one." 
 
 " Well," laughingly responded Wellington, " you 
 speak the truth, and I will take good care of my 
 self and try to reach a good old age, striving each 
 year to ascend step by step the ladder of fame. 
 But to-morrow I must return. You will not object 
 to my leaving then ?" 
 
 " No," responded Manulito. " To-morrow you 
 can go, and Manulito and his warriors will conduct 
 you to your people ; but to-day, and to-night, my 
 brother is still our guest." 
 
 During the day and evening Manulito was 
 busily engaged in preparing for the journey of the 
 morrow, and Wellington was left to the hospi 
 tality of the chiefs. On the following morning, 
 when the band was ready to march, Wellington 
 bade farewell to his late captors, and amid hearty 
 handshakes, and interpreted good-byes, and invita 
 tions to come and visit them again, he mounted his 
 horse. As he did he looked around, and his ad 
 miration was stirred to its depths at the appearance 
 of his guard. Fully one hundred of the bravest 
 
288 MANULITO. 
 
 and finest-looking warriors were under the com 
 mand of Manulito. They were superbly mounted 
 on black horses, their lances all at the same up 
 right angle, while they were armed in addition 
 with bows and arrows. Manulito showed his pride 
 in this invincible army. They were soldiers, and 
 looked with supreme confidence on him who had 
 never failed to lead them to victory. "Wellington 
 gazed in admiration on them as he said, " With 
 his followers Spartacus fought his way through the 
 streets of Capua, and defied an army in the moun 
 tains of Vesuvius, and the world never saw braver 
 men than they ; but I believe this squadron here 
 to-day would be equally invincible, for victory 
 would not rest with their antagonists until the last 
 man was slain." 
 
 This pleased the Indian, and he said, " They have 
 faith in Manulito as their leader, and he has never 
 permitted an enemy to say that he was not first 
 in battle, for others shall not advance before him 
 until the hand that wields his spear is powerless in 
 death. These warriors horses are beyond price, 
 for they are all descendants in some degree of the 
 noblest and swiftest horse that was ever on these 
 plains. Manulito means the Imp o Darkness." 
 
 For three days the party rode, camping wherever 
 night overtook them. During the day Wellington 
 and Manulito constantly rode side by side. They 
 discussed the problem of the future of the Indian 
 race, and Manulito agreed with Wellington, that it 
 
THE CHASE. 289 
 
 was but a question of time when the white race 
 would obtain possession of all the lands, and the 
 Indians would be dependent on the generosity of 
 the government for support. 
 
 It was a bitter anticipation for Manulito, and, 
 while admitting its probability, he hoped he would 
 not live to see it realized. Anxious as Wellington 
 was to return to his companions, his pleasure in 
 doing so was not without pain, for it involved a 
 separation from his best friend. Manulito shared 
 his feeling, and at times they rode silently along, 
 each thinking of their past and future. Occasion 
 ally "Wellington assumed an air of jollity and burst 
 into a soft laugh, and then as speedily checked 
 himself, for he felt that laughter at this time was a 
 wanton sacrilege to his actual feelings. These men 
 were capable of enduring suffering, fatigue, or 
 physical torture, but their sensitive natures felt 
 most keenly an inexplicable heaviness of heart 
 which seemed at times almost to suffocate them. 
 
 When they came in sight of the fort, one of 
 their party was sent forward with a flag of truce, 
 and soon arrangements were made for Wellington 
 to leave his escort. The Indians were invited to 
 remain for a short time, but they declined, saying 
 that their mission had been performed, and they 
 would return to their people. Wellington begged 
 Manulito to stay with him, but he gently but firmly 
 refused, saying, " No, no ! Were Manulito to re 
 main the hours would swiftly pass, and the bitter- 
 N t 25 
 
290 MANULITO. 
 
 ness of our parting be the same. Manulito has not 
 seen much in his life for which to be grateful, but 
 he thanks the Great Spirit for permitting him to 
 see his brother once again. He is prepared to say 
 farewell now, and live the life the Great Spirit in 
 tended for him, thinking by day and dreaming by 
 night of this visit of the Gray Eagle. And, per 
 haps, some day Manulito will return for a short 
 time to see the friends and the places which are so 
 dear to him, for his heart longs to behold once 
 again the spot where he first saw the light." 
 
 " And," interrupted Wellington, " you will surely 
 come to see me then, will you not ? I will never 
 forgive you if you don t." 
 
 " Yes," responded the Indian. " Should Manu 
 lito ever return to the place of his birth, he will 
 first visit those scenes so dear to him, in the bottom 
 land, on the prairie, by the swift-running Wapsie, 
 and then he will keep his promise and seek his 
 brother." 
 
 " And God knows how pleased I will be to see 
 you," feelingly replied Wellington. 
 
 " The time is gliding by," spoke Manulito, " and 
 we must part, for the day is drawing to a close, and 
 soon my warriors will have only the stars to guide 
 them on their way. And here," said he, " is some 
 thing for your wife, my white sister. Take it to 
 her, and tell her it comes from Manulito. It is of 
 great value, but its worth is not to be compared to 
 the richness of the gifts of her kindness, her love, 
 
THE CHASE. 291 
 
 her teachings, which she gave to Manulito. If the 
 Great Spirit permits a man to have a guardian angel 
 on this earth, then tell her that such she has been to 
 her red brother. Take this watch and chain, Gray 
 Eagle, and give it to her. It was given to Manu 
 lito by a miner whose life he saved, and he took it 
 only because he thought some day he might send 
 it to her. 
 
 " And to his brother, the Gray Eagle, Manulito 
 gives these." At this he motioned to an attendant, 
 who came speedily forward with a pony laden with 
 furs. From its back he untied a great robe, which 
 contained war-bonnets, arrows, knives, and imple 
 ments most valued by the Indians. " These," said 
 he, " are for my brother, and when he sees these 
 robes he will always remember that they were 
 gained by Manulito s skill ; and these war-bonnets, 
 knives, and tomahawks belonged to the enemies 
 whom Manulito conquered. And these two shields, 
 one of them my brother carried, the other Manu 
 lito, and the traces of our skill are visible on each 
 shield. Let them hang side by side on your wall, 
 and when you see them you will remember that 
 Manulito and the Gray Eagle each thanked his 
 God that he had not slain his brother. And this 
 broken spear, the one upon which you fell that 
 clay, hang it beside the shields. It is like our 
 lives will be when old age will have broken our 
 strength. 
 
 " And now," continued Manulito, a smile light- 
 
292 MANULITO. 
 
 ing his face, " here is something for your children." 
 And, turning, Wellington beheld a pair of beautiful 
 ponies. One, a brilliant black, with a coat like satin, 
 pranced and neighed as if conscious of its beauty, 
 and, laying his hand on its neck, Manulito said, 
 " This one, Gray Eagle, is for your son. It is fleet 
 of foot, handsome as the heart of a boy could wish, 
 and wild enough to please one who fears no dan 
 ger. And when the little warrior rides him through 
 the parks, the other boys will not be less jealous, or 
 he less happy, when he tells them that the pony 
 was once wild on the prairies, and was caught by 
 an Indian and given to his father for him. 
 
 " And this one," said he, and his eyes grew moist, 
 "this one is for your little girl, your sweet Helen." 
 As he approached the pony, which seemed accus 
 tomed to constant petting, and was as playful as a 
 kitten, it nibbled at Manulito s arm until he satis 
 fied it with a bunch of grass. 
 
 Wellington could not avoid an expression of 
 admiration, for the animal was as white as snow, 
 and this whiteness was made more noticeable by 
 reason of its great black eyes. Its mane fell in 
 sweeping folds, and the winds curled it gracefully 
 far below its arched neck, while its tail fell almost 
 to the ground. 
 
 " It pleases Manulito," said he, " to send this 
 pony, for, like the softening influence of the rain 
 to the parched earth, so was that child s love to 
 Manulito. Many times, when all seemed black and 
 
THE CHASE. 293 
 
 dreary, arid he wondered why he lived, this little 
 girl came and took him by the hand and led him 
 through the forest and the meadow, that they might 
 gather flowers. At such times Manulito forgot his 
 sadness and was happy again. And since that time 
 the blossoms he gathered at her command have 
 always seemed the sweetest and the prettiest. 
 
 " She loved best of all the beautiful lady s-slip- 
 per, which was to be found only on the hill-sides, 
 hidden in the recesses of some shady spot, and, 
 child that she was, it was to such places that her 
 little footsteps broke the trail for Manulito to fol 
 low. And although in the valleys of California he 
 has gathered perhaps the most beautiful flowers in 
 the world, yet none of them touched his heart so 
 tenderly or seemed to breathe such sweet perfume 
 as the lady s-slipper plucked by the hand of that 
 tiny girl. 
 
 " And as we often see in flowers something that 
 reminds us of our friends, so Manulito sees in the 
 beautiful pond-lily the features of this innocent 
 child. Its snow-white face, like frost in its purity, 
 sparkles with the dew from heaven, great beads of 
 water glisten in the light of the morning sun, and 
 its petals stand upright like spears of gold. That is 
 the flower which Manulito loves best of all, because 
 its soft whiteness reminds him of the face of your 
 sweet child, and its petals are like the golden hair 
 that falls in ringlets over her shoulders. 
 
 " And .eo this pony seems like herself, pure and 
 
 25* 
 
294 MANUL1TO. 
 
 spotless, gentle and obedient, one whom all must 
 love and be proud in loving. Take it to her, Gray 
 Eagle, and with it the love of Manulito." 
 
 As he finished, he stepped resolutely up to Wel 
 lington, and said, " Now we must part. Words 
 cannot prevent it. Manulito hopes his brother will 
 have a pleasant journey." 
 
 It seemed as if he wanted to say more, but he 
 only folded his blanket closer around his shoulder 
 and looked affectionately at Wellington. 
 
 Wellington seized his hand and said, " We know 
 and understand each other, Manulito, and we can 
 not help what is to be. May Heaven bless you! 
 Good-by ! Good-by ! I must say farewell ! Then 
 he turned hastily and walked away ; but some in 
 stinct induced him to turn again. As he did he 
 saw Manulito standing at the same spot as if in a 
 trance. Wellington quickly sprang to him, folded 
 him in his arms, and, as they embraced, many a 
 stern warrior bowed his head, appreciating the 
 feelings of these strong men. A touch on Manu- 
 lito s arm by one of the warriors electrified both, 
 and with their hands placed fondly, each on the 
 shoulder of the other, their moistened eyes met 
 for an instant, and, with an affectionate clasp of 
 the hand, they simultaneously breathed " good-by," 
 and parted. 
 
DESTINY. 295 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 DESTINY. 
 
 " Across the threshold led, 
 And every tear kissed off as soon as shed, 
 His house she enters, there to be a light, 
 Shining within, when all without is night ; 
 A guardian angel o er his life presiding, 
 Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing." 
 
 KOGEKS. 
 
 ONE can easily imagine the delight of Welling 
 ton s friends because of his safe return. They had 
 used every effort to find him since his disappear 
 ance, but as the guide reported that war-parties of 
 Sioux had been seen in the vicinity, the searchers 
 at last came to the conclusion that Wellington had 
 been captured by them. And now that he had re 
 turned, their joy was without bounds. He spent 
 the greater portion of the night in recounting to 
 his friends the episodes that had happened since he 
 left them, and the story was so weird, that in this 
 case truth was indeed stranger than fiction. 
 
 The party had delayed their return because of 
 the absence of Wellington, having unanimously 
 decided that they would remain until they found 
 definitely what had become of him. They did not 
 believe he was dead, for they had thoroughly 
 searched the prairies where they had hunted, and, 
 
296 MANVLITO. 
 
 not discovering his body, ielt positive that he had 
 been captured. This belief was strengthened when 
 the guide found the spot where Wellington had 
 struggled with the Indians. He then positively 
 announced that Wellington had been captured by 
 some roving band, but who they were, or to what 
 tribe they belonged, could be ascertained only by 
 cautious search, and, believing that Wellington had 
 been captured by the Sioux, the party sent their 
 Bcouts to the north towards the lands of the Da- 
 kotas, instead of in a southerly direction, where 
 the captors and captive really were. 
 
 They were all anxious to return home, fearing 
 that exaggerated reports might precede their com 
 ing, and, therefore, on the following day, they 
 started for their Eastern homes. They never tired 
 of recalling the scenes and incidents of the trip, 
 and especially enjoyed telling of those times when 
 some one, more unfortunate than his companions, 
 had met with some slight accident, nothing severe, 
 but just ludicrous enough to have its mention bring 
 hearty peals of laughter at the expense of the un 
 fortunate, who had perhaps been unceremoniously 
 dumped from the back of some docile-looking but 
 very uncertain broncho. 
 
 Wellington s return preceded but a few weeks the 
 opening of the different courts. His trip had been 
 of great benefit to him physically, and now that he 
 was to again assume the active practice of law, he 
 did it, as he did everything else, with eagerness 
 
DESTINY. 297 
 
 and a desire to honorably succeed. This trip to 
 the West had been the realization of long pent-up 
 wishes. He was progressive in everything, and 
 one of his greatest desires was to travel and visit 
 places renowned for their romantic beauty ; it did 
 not afford him merely temporary pleasure, but 
 those scenes, although he did not know it at the 
 time, were indelibly impressed on his mind, and in 
 after-years, when making some of his most bril 
 liant oratorical efforts, his thoughts insensibly 
 drifted towards his knowledge of nature, and the 
 instincts and habits of birds and animals, and the 
 lessons he learned from the fields and woods served 
 to make his comparisons more touching and more 
 beautiful. 
 
 His success as a trial lawyer was what might 
 have been expected of the man. He held few 
 offices, for his heart was in his profession, and thus 
 the years passed by, time increasing his labors and 
 adding to his reputation. He heard but seldom 
 from Manulito, but what he learned showed that 
 the Indian was the same self-sacrificing man, de 
 voting all his time and energies towards the ad 
 vancement of the tribe by which he had been 
 adopted. Many years had flown since they had 
 last met, and the changes predicted by "Welling 
 ton were occurring faster than he had anticipated. 
 Great corporations were reaching out and securing 
 belts of the finest land. Kailroads were spanning 
 the continent; and "Wellington had heard that 
 
298 MANVL1TO. 
 
 surveys had been made marking the line for a 
 railroad near the lands owned by the Comanches 
 for generations. This did not surprise him, for he 
 had long foreseen the future of the Indian race 
 and the wonderful progress of the whites. 
 
 Wellington had promised Manulito that he 
 would be careful of himself, a promise never kept 
 by an ambitious man. Those whose lives are 
 passed entirely in mental work, craving that pro 
 found knowledge which alone can place them at 
 the head of their profession, forget that they are 
 mortal. Their ambitious eyes are cast towards some 
 star which rests in the zenith of their ambition. 
 They believe that labor omnia vincit, and believing 
 this, the days are too short for them, the nights 
 are usurped, recreation is denied, the delicate 
 chords which bind their constitutions are snapped, 
 and then they recognize their mortality when too 
 late, for their ambition is still unsatisfied, and 
 death, not they, claims the victory. 
 
 For some time the friends of Wellington had 
 noticed a haggard look which was occasionally to 
 be seen on his face. They cautioned him not to 
 overwork himself, but he merely laughed at their 
 anxiety. At the same time he often became 
 fatigued and easily caught cold, something that 
 had never happened to him before. His physician 
 admonished him to lessen his work, and advised 
 him to take a long vacation ; but Wellington plead 
 the importance of his cases, the impossibility of 
 
DESTINY. 299 
 
 others attending to them, and promised to take his 
 much-needed rest the following year. 
 
 One day an important trial was in progress; 
 "Wellington had acquitted himself with great bril 
 liancy, and the lawyers crowded around him, con 
 gratulating him because of his effort. The room 
 seemed unusually close and warm, and his face was 
 flushed. Suddenly he raised his hand to his head, 
 asked for a drink of water, then, before they could 
 bring it to him, sank fainting into a chair. They 
 carried him to a window, bathed his temples, and 
 when he returned to consciousness, he smiled 
 again, saying, "I don t feel very well; perhaps I 
 had better go home for a little while. Accord 
 ingly they took him home, and when his alarmed 
 wife met them at the door, he gave her an affec 
 tionate glance, saying, "It s nothing; I will visit 
 with you for a few days, for I am so tired." The 
 family physician was called, and said, " He is worn 
 out. He must have absolute rest." And then 
 "Wellington was put to bed. As his wife ten 
 derly tucked the coverlets around him, he wearily 
 dropped his hand, and said, " Oh, how good this 
 seems !" Then, while she softly stroked his hand, 
 he, like a tired child, fell asleep. 
 
 She had for a long time dreaded that something 
 was to happen, and a sad feeling at times possessed 
 her, a feeling which cast a heavy burden of sorrow 
 upon her, something she could not define, but 
 which frequently depressed her in spirits, and still 
 
300 MANULITO. 
 
 she could not tell why. She felt her sorrow more 
 keenly now, for it flashed upon her mind that this 
 sickness of her husband was the fulfilment of the 
 forebodings which had so long threatened her. 
 And now that she was to face the event which 
 had so continuously come like an apparition before 
 her, this frail woman, tender, loving, confiding 
 by nature, modest, unassuming, and timid in dis 
 position, assumed her true character and showed 
 herself as she really was, a noble wife and mother, 
 possessed of all those attributes that have made 
 men better and that have blessed the world. 
 
 The tears which flowed so copiously came from 
 the spring of her affection, and as she sat and 
 fondled the hand of the man whose every ambi 
 tion found sweet accord with her own, her tears 
 ceased their flowing ; she breathed a long sad sigh, 
 and then, as if some secret resolution had been 
 made, she moved with that soft grace which only 
 love could make, and her life was devoted to her 
 husband. She anticipated everything. If his heart 
 craved something, it seemed as if some angel 
 secretly conveyed to her the intelligence, for with 
 out disclosing his desire his wish was gratified. 
 Like all men who have been devotees of Nature, 
 or who are of culture and refinement, Wellington 
 loved flowers. It was not possible to supply his 
 sick-room with those he had so many times gath 
 ered in their wild state; but his devoted wife 
 supplied the want, for the room was constantly 
 
DESTINY. 301 
 
 beautified with handsome roses, whose delicate 
 perfume was a constant gratification to the sick 
 one. 
 
 The days had glided into weeks, and still "Wel 
 lington was confined to his bed. He had treated 
 his sickness in a jesting manner, and had fre 
 quently set the day when he would be at his office, 
 but when that day came, the sick-room still claimed 
 him. Then he would seem to improve, and the 
 happiness of the household was unlimited, but the 
 improvement would be only temporary, and built 
 up hopes only to cruelly dash them away, leaving 
 their sorrow greater than ever. The cold had de 
 veloped into pneumonia, and all realized his danger. 
 He had suffered much through the day, was at 
 times delirious, and at night his condition was still 
 more critical. As his mind wandered, his wife and 
 children were told of his danger. At last the crisis 
 was passed, and he lay dying before them. At 
 times he was conscious, and then he calmly begged 
 them not to weep for him, and smiled in sweet 
 affection at his wife and children who sat near him. 
 His voice seemed unusually strong, and he spoke 
 of dying as if it was but a pleasant journey. His 
 conscious moments came less often, and in his 
 delirium his thoughts strayed back to incidents 
 that had happened in his early life, and when he 
 spoke of them, his eyes flashed or softened and 
 his face expressed his rapidly-changing thoughts. 
 Finally he dropped into a peaceful sleep, propped 
 
 26 
 
302 MANULITO. 
 
 up with pillows, while his wife also supported him 
 with her arm. 
 
 Suddenly he awakened, and with a startled ex 
 pression exclaimed, "What s that? Somebody 
 fired at me ! Oh, no, he wouldn t do that, for I 
 gave him the gun." Then he sadly said, " Let 
 Hector loose ; he will come to me. Yes ! Manulito, 
 I do forgive you fully and freely. Shoot the buck, 
 
 Kirtley! Shoot the I respect every man s 
 
 religion I And I would like to have you tell 
 
 Manulito of " Then he smiled contemptuously 
 
 and said, " Very well, if he is afraid to show his 
 
 face, it makes " His thoughts were fleeting 
 
 fast, as he continued, " If the court please I wish 
 
 to " Then, as if astonished, he exclaimed, 
 
 "My God, it s Manulito!" He was growing 
 weaker. His words dragged. There came a flash 
 of consciousness; he realized his condition, and 
 calmly whispered good-by to his wife. 
 
 Then his eyes were centred on Manulito s pic 
 ture which had been brought into the room. He 
 gazed at it intently, seemingly lost to his sur 
 roundings, shaded his eyes as if to obtain a better 
 view, raised himself on his elbow, and said, 
 
 " Perhaps with your spirit in the land of your 
 God you can look down and see me weep for 
 you for I have sometimes wondered if those in 
 heaven if those in heav if those in 
 
 heaven " His voice grew weaker, and he 
 
 clutched nervously at his throat; then hesitatingly 
 
DESTINY. 303 
 
 spoke, " Yes Manulito I forgive you. I 
 have forgiven " 
 
 Giving his wife a last fond look, he breathed a 
 long deep sigh. His head sank wearily on her 
 shoulder. They listened for his breathing, but 
 nothing was heard but the sobbing of the heart 
 broken family. The physician tenderly touched 
 the weeping woman, but she knew it all, the 
 noble husband, the kind and generous father, was 
 dead. 
 
 When in health, "Wellington had often told 
 where he wished to be laid to rest when dead. His 
 wishes were adhered to, and his body was interred 
 near the scenes of his early manhood, for the suc 
 cesses of his later years had not weaned him from 
 the places which former times had made so dear to 
 him. 
 
 All the honors that could have been accorded a 
 man of his prominence in life were shown him at 
 his death. There is a sweet satisfaction to every 
 honorable man, who belongs to some civic,* mili 
 tary, or secret society, in feeling, when he is sum 
 moned to cast aside the garments of mortality, 
 that his life has been a lesson to those with whom 
 he has been associated as a friend and a brother, 
 and that there has been something in his life 
 worthy of emulation. 
 
 There is no fraternity which holds its honored 
 members by stronger ties of affection than the legal 
 profession. So it was that, in recollection of Wei- 
 
304 MANULITO. 
 
 lington s life, from the courts of limited jurisdic 
 tion to those of last resort memorials were passed 
 and spread upon the records eulogistic of the man. 
 For it was truthfully said of him, "None knew 
 him but to love him, and those who knew him 
 best loved him most." 
 
 Taken away as he was, just after the summer of 
 his life had past, and when the autumn-time prom 
 ised so rich a harvest after his years of labor, it 
 brought forcibly to mind that 
 
 " Leaves have their time to fall, 
 
 And flowers to wither at the North wind s breath, 
 And stars to set, but all 
 Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death !" 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " Oh ! couldst thou but know 
 With what a deep devotedness of woe 
 I wept thy absence o er and o er again 
 Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, 
 And memory, like a drop that, night and day, 
 Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away 1" 
 
 MOORE. 
 
 A FEW years had passed since the death of Wel 
 lington, and the recital of our romance carries us 
 back to the scenes where he and Maimlito spent so 
 many happy days. 
 
THE WANDERER S RETURN. 305 
 
 Time had wrought wonderful changes in the 
 vicinity, and wild forests and unbroken prairies 
 had given place to cultivated fields. The ox-teams 
 and the prairie " schooners" were things of the 
 past, and railroads traversed the land from ocean 
 to ocean. The village where Wellington first prac 
 tised law had grown to quite a little city, and 
 rejoiced in all the modern improvements. 
 
 As the train came in one summer afternoon, 
 there was one among the passengers who by his 
 dress and bearing, as well as his features, com 
 manded admiration. He was advanced in years, 
 and the strong form, the dignified walk the wealth 
 of iron-gray hair which swept over his shoulders, 
 or was carelessly tossed by the winds, gave addi 
 tional interest to this personage. 
 
 The crowd looked at him with undisguised curi- 
 
 O 
 
 osity, but he heeded them not, and alighting from 
 the train, stopped for a moment as if in uncertainty, 
 and then, having taken his bearings from the sun 
 in the western sky, started in a southerly direction. 
 His tread was as elastic as that of a youth. His 
 advanced years seemed to have been cast aside, 
 for, buoyed up by joyous anticipations, he walked 
 briskly forward, occasionally pausing as if to drink 
 in the scenery which surrounded him. " How 
 sweet the air !" he said. " These hills seem as they 
 did years ago, except that the forests are not so 
 dense as then. And there, away off to the south, 
 the sky stoops down and softly touches the tops of 
 
 u 26* 
 
306 MANUL1TO. 
 
 the trees at the Wapsie or loses itself in the bluffs 
 across the stream. 
 
 " The night is hours away, and the heart of 
 Manulito directs him to the spot where he saved 
 the life of his brother. That was years ago, years 
 in time but only hours in memory, for the earth, 
 the sky, and the forest are the same. But the 
 winds bring sweeter fragrance from the meadows 
 to-day, perhaps because it is the summer-time, or 
 perhaps because the heart of Manulito is so glad 
 to be here again." 
 
 He entered the bottom-land, neared the river 
 which he knew so well, and soon emerged through 
 the timber and stood at the water s edge, at the 
 precise point where Wellington had had the 
 struggle with the buck. It seemed to bring to him 
 a flood of recollections, for he stood for a few 
 moments in deepest thought. " Oh, how good it 
 is to be home again ! Home ?" said he in a doubt 
 ing manner. " Yes, home again ; this is the home 
 of Manulito, for twas here he spent his childhood 
 days and passed the happiest hours of his life. 
 Manulito has said he had no home, but his heart 
 tells him of his mistake, for now that he has re 
 turned, he sees that here and on the banks of the 
 Mississippi are the dearest spots in all the world to 
 him. Years ago, Manulito thought he would not 
 care to return to these places again, but he has 
 changed, for when once the thought came to him, 
 his love for these well-remembered spots burned like 
 
THE WANDERER S RETURN. 307 
 
 fire into his heart. He could think of nothing 
 else by day, and at night his wandering dreams 
 brought him here, until the hills and streams, the 
 prairies and the forests, the secret caves, and each 
 familiar place, seemed to come before his sight, 
 and the stars beckoned and the winds whispered 
 for him to return again to the old home of his 
 brother. 
 
 " And stronger than all these was the desire to 
 see his brother, for years have passed since last we 
 met. Manulito will keep his promise and go to 
 see him, and then the Gray Eagle will show Manu 
 lito his home, his family, and his people, and the 
 picture of which his brother spoke. And when 
 the friends of the Gray Eagle come," he will say to 
 them, * This is my red brother, this is Manulito, 
 of whom you have heard me speak. They will 
 be glad to see Manulito because he is the brother 
 of the Gray Eagle. And the boy, now a grown 
 man, and the girl, now a woman, they will talk to 
 Manulito. Oh !" he exclaimed, " the heart of 
 Manulito is bursting with joy, for he sees so much 
 happiness in store for him." 
 
 The sun was going down. He noticed it, and 
 said, " The years are swept aside by the setting sun, 
 for it goes to rest in the same spot, and casting the 
 same colors, that it did the night Manulito saved 
 his brother. And now Manulito will go to the 
 place where, years ago, the Gray Beard lived. No 
 doubt he is dead, for he was an old man then. His 
 
308 MANULITO. 
 
 log cabin has doubtless been torn down, and his 
 children will have built a larger home, but Manu- 
 lito will go, for the Gray Beard once thought 
 kindly of him," 
 
 As he stepped from the forest into the road, 
 where he could obtain a clear view, he stopped in 
 astonishment, for there, on the hill-side, he saw 
 the identical cabin he knew so well. It was un 
 changed; the great hickory-tree shaded it as of 
 old, while the ivy clung to its sides as it did when 
 Manulito was a young man. He stopped, placed 
 his hand over his heart, and involuntarily raised 
 his eyes in thankfulness at the sight. It was just 
 dusk as he reached the door. He hoped the place 
 had not changed hands, and stood for a brief time 
 thinking what he should do or say. As he 
 knocked he heard a shuffling sound, and then, if a 
 spectre had arisen from the grave he would not 
 have been more surprised, for the door opened, 
 and Kirtley stood before him. He did not recog 
 nize Manulito, but called to the boys, 
 
 " Here, you fellers, whar be ye ? Git a light. 
 Thar s a stranger here, an my ole eyes ain t no 
 good thout a light this time o day. Come in ! 
 come in !" 
 
 At this Manulito entered the cabin and seated 
 himself, trying to recover from his surprise, and 
 wondering if Kirtley would recognize him. As 
 the light was brought in, Kirtley scanned him 
 closely, but his eyesight had failed to such an ex- 
 
THE WANDERER S RETURN. 3Q9 
 
 tent that he merely saw that his caller was an 
 Indian. At this discovery, he said, 
 
 " Wall, I ll be gol darned ef it ain t an Injun !" 
 
 Manulito could not help smiling, for he well re 
 membered the farmer s opinion of Indians. He 
 appeared to be much the same Kirtley as of old, 
 except that his extreme age had deepened the 
 seams on his face, and his once strong frame was 
 but a feeble semblance of its former self. His hair 
 and whiskers were as white as snow, but his inde 
 pendence was as marked as ever. Staring at his 
 visitor, he spoke as if to himself, 
 
 " Wall ! wall ! An Injun here at this time ! Hun 
 gry, no doubt, penniless, an beggin fur a livin I" 
 
 Addressing his conversation directly to his 
 visitor, he said, 
 
 " Be yer hungry ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Wall, now, thet seems good ter hear an Injun 
 speak United States in thet way, an not grunt 
 an answer. Do yer expect ter stay here ter- 
 night?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Wall, thet settles it; an while I hain t no love 
 fur your race, an never seed but one thet was half 
 way decent cordiri ter my notion, at the same time 
 yer kin stay." 
 
 At this moment Manulito s supper was brought 
 to him. He sat where the light shone on his face, 
 and as he ate, he expected that each moment 
 
310 MANULITO. 
 
 would disclose his identity, for Kirtley was very 
 inquisitive both in words and glances. 
 
 " Must have had quite a tramp," said he, " the 
 way yer gettin outside thet grub. Don t live bout 
 these parts, do yer ?" 
 
 Manulito smiled, and said, " No." 
 
 " No ? I thought as much. Come from out West 
 perhaps, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes," responded Manulito. 
 
 "Yes? Wall, now, as Bill used ter say, yer 
 comin in with yer rebuttal. Ever been in these 
 parts afore?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Yes ? The devil yer say !" And he drew his 
 chair nearer his visitor. "Been here afore, eh? 
 How long ago ?" 
 
 " About thirty years." 
 
 " About thirty years," said Kirtley, musingly. " I 
 come here nigh forty years ago, an I was here at 
 the time yer say. Say, just begin at my feet an 
 foller the trail ter my face, an tell me if yer ever 
 seed me afore ? All Injuns look alike ter me, an 
 mebbe thet s why I can t place yer." 
 
 " Yes," responded Manulito. " At one time you 
 knew me well ; you were my friend." 
 
 As he said this, Kirtley opened his mouth in 
 astonishment and stared at the speaker. 
 
 " I knowed yer well ?" said he, incredulously. 
 " I knowed yer well ? Where did yer ever see 
 me?" 
 
THE WANDERER S RETURN. 31 1 
 
 "Listen and you shall hear. Once, when the 
 buck was going to strike him you loved better 
 than a son. Once, when at the village, you gave 
 
 me control of your horse. Once, when " But 
 
 he did not have time to complete his sentence, for 
 the old man tottered to him, placed his hand on his 
 shoulder, while his voice shook with emotion as he 
 said, 
 
 " For God s sake don t trifle with me ! I m an old 
 man, nigh eighty-five, an I don t want ter be de 
 ceived." 
 
 Manulito rose and grasped his hand, saying, 
 " You are the Gray Beard, and before you stands 
 Manulito, who has returned after an absence of 
 many years to visit his old home, to see his old 
 friends." 
 
 At this Kirtley seated himself, and with childish 
 fervor exclaimed, " Wall, I ll be blowed ef this 
 ain t ahead o my time ! So it s you, is it ? "Wall, 
 but I m powerful glad ter see yer! But I ll tell 
 yer, you 11 find a heap o changes here, most the 
 old timers dead or moved away. Goin ter stay 
 long bout here ?" 
 
 " Only a few days," responded the Indian. " And 
 then, after Manulito has visited these places so well 
 known to him years ago, he will continue his 
 journey and seek his brother " 
 
 " Say that last ag in. I don t know thet I j$s 
 caught wot yer said." 
 
 " Manulito said he would seek his brother." 
 
312 MANUL1TO. 
 
 " Yer brother ! Where ?" asked Kirtley, in sur 
 prise. 
 
 " Where ? Where but in the city, which is his 
 home. For Manulito has promised to visit him 
 some day, and now the time is near, and Manulito s 
 heart beats with continued joy, and he counts the 
 days and even the hours before he will see the 
 Gray Eagle again." 
 
 Kirtley had turned his face from the light, and 
 exclaimed, " Oh, Lord, this is awful ! I s posed he 
 knowed it!" 
 
 But Manulito continued : " And when he goes, 
 he will call just in the early evening at the home 
 of his brother, and perhaps he may be permitted 
 to look in and see him and all those so dear to 
 him sitting by the grate fire, reading, or perhaps 
 thinking of the war chief, from whom they have 
 not heard for years." 
 
 " Stop right thar !" interrupted Kirtley. " How 
 
 long since yer heard from from " His voice 
 
 seemed to fail him, but giving a great gulp, he 
 continued : " Yer know who I mean." 
 
 " How long ?" repeated Manulito, meditatively. 
 " About three years." 
 
 " Three years ? And ain t yer heerd from none 
 ov em fur three years ?" 
 
 " No ; not for three years." 
 
 Oh, Lord !" sighed the old man ; then he don t 
 know it !" 
 
 " And then," continued the Indian, " when Manu- 
 
THE WANDERER S RETURN. 313 
 
 lito steps to the door and it is opened, just as the 
 Gray Beard opened his door this night, and the 
 soft light shines out, my brother will spring to meet 
 me, saying, Here is Manulito ; and then he will 
 take me in his arms, just as once, on the prairie, I 
 took him in mine, and then " 
 
 He did not finish his speech, for Kirtley sat with 
 bowed head, sobbing like a child. The Indian 
 approached the old man, and stood waiting for 
 him to speak; but, as he did not, Manulito 
 said, 
 
 " The Gray Beard is tired, and the heart of 
 Manulito is sad, for he thinks he has said some 
 thing to offend him, but what it is he cannot recall, 
 for, as the Great Spirit is his judge, he did not 
 intend to wound the man whose guest he is." 
 
 " Oh, no, yer hain t offended me, but but 
 three years air a long time, yer know ; an these 
 times, thar s a heap o things might happen. 
 Banks fail, an " 
 
 " Manulito understands : his brother has been 
 unfortunate and lost all. So much the better, for 
 Manulito has lands, and they will be given to his 
 brother. Does he want riches ? Then he shall have 
 wealth until his heart is satisfied, for once when the 
 mountain storm raged its fiercest, Manulito sought 
 refuge in the canons ; the earth trembled with the 
 violence of the storm ; the floods rushed down the 
 mountain-sides, leaving the rocks at the feet of 
 Manulito ; and when the storm had ceased, and the 
 o 27 
 
314 MANULITO. 
 
 waters had fallen, the rocks were traced with ledges 
 of gold. No white man knows the spot, but Manu- 
 lito will guide his brother to the place by night, and 
 when the morning sun peers over the mountain, 
 the gold will glisten in its light, and he will say, 
 This is Manulito s, and what is Manulito s is his 
 brother s ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes," responded the old man, "yer intend 
 all right, yer intend all right ; but there air other 
 things in this world wuss than losin prop ty, 
 sickness, fur instance, an an " 
 
 " Death," whispered Manulito, as if horrified at 
 the mention of it. 
 
 " Yes, death," responded Kirtley. 
 
 " My poor dear brother ! the heart of Manulito 
 pities the Gray Eagle ! And when was it ?" 
 
 " A year ago," said Kirtley. 
 
 "His boy?" 
 
 " No," responded Kirtley. 
 
 "His girl?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then it was his dear wife, the noblest woman 
 that ever " 
 
 " No, twant his wife." 
 
 " What !" ejaculated Manulito, as if a sting had 
 penetrated his heart. And seizing Kirtley by the 
 shoulder, he hissed, 
 
 " A death in his family and not his boy ? his 
 girl ? his wife ? Then it must be oh, God ! my 
 brother!" And he stood trembling like a strong 
 
THE WANDERER S RETURN. 315 
 
 tree in a storm, then, with a piteous moan, sank 
 unconscious into a chair. 
 
 Poor EIrtley was wild with grief and piteously 
 begged him not to take it so to heart. He dropped 
 on his knees before the Indian, rubbed his hands, 
 and pleaded with him not to give way to his grief. 
 
 As Manulito opened his eyes and beheld the old 
 man kneeling before him, he looked intently at 
 him, and softly said, 
 
 " And so Manulito s brother is dead !" and then 
 he closed his eyes again. " Dead ? Oh, that is a 
 bitter word to speak of him whom Manulito loved 
 so much ! And now the sweet dreams of days and 
 nights, of months and years, are brushed aside. 
 The star in the heaven of Manulito s life is set, for 
 he whom he longed to see is no more." 
 
 He sat for a long time as if in a dream, and 
 then, turning to Kirtley, he said, 
 
 " Tears soften the sorrow of those who suffer, 
 but Manulito cannot weep. Tis said the Great 
 Spirit does all things for the best, but Manulito re 
 grets that he lived to see this day." And then he 
 sat and calmly listened to Kirtley s account of the 
 sickness and death of Wellington. 
 
 All night he paced the floor, and when in the 
 morning they invited him to stay and insisted on 
 his remaining with them, he replied, " Manulito 
 came to fulfil his promise, to seek his brother at 
 his home. He will keep his word, for he will visit 
 his brother s grave." 
 
316 MANULITO. 
 
 When breakfast was called, Kirtley said, " Come, 
 Manulito. Come, old friend, yer must eat some- 
 thin . Goin on an empty stomach won t help 
 matters." 
 
 The Indian tried to obey, then said, " Manulito 
 cannot eat. It is his soul, and not his body, that 
 cries for food." 
 
 " Wall," said Kirtley, " s pose yer want ter ketch 
 the fust train ?" 
 
 " No," responded Manulito. 
 
 " Thet s right ! thet s right ! Ye re like me, 
 ain t got no use fur trains. I ll hev the boys hitch 
 up an drive over." 
 
 " No ; Manulito will walk." 
 
 " Walk ?" exclaimed Kirtley in surprise. " Walk ? 
 Yer ain t goin ter do no sech thing. Walk? 
 Thunder an lightriin , man, it s nigh on ter twenty 
 mile." 
 
 "And if it was forty, what of it? From day 
 light till darkness Manulito has walked, tiring out 
 many horses. He has not become so old that he 
 is weak. He knows the spot he seeks, and the 
 day will give him time to think. To think ? Oh, 
 that Manulito were like a tree or a plant, that lives, 
 but cannot think, for to think is to suffer !" 
 
 Late in the afternoon he arrived at the cemetery, 
 and gently lifting the latch of the gate, he softly 
 let it fall again, as if he feared he might disturb 
 those resting so near him. Slowly he wended his 
 way, until his shadow darkened the turf where the 
 
THE WANDERERS RETURN. 317 
 
 old sexton on bended knees was using the sickle. 
 The good old man looked up, and then dropped 
 his sickle in surprise when he saw an Indian. He 
 noticed Manulito scanning the different stones, and 
 said, " Can I be of service to you ?" 
 
 "Yes; Manulito is looking for his brother s 
 grave." 
 
 " Your brother s grave ? Surely, my good man, 
 you are being deceived by some one. Your brother 
 isn t buried here. I have been sexton here for 
 thirty years, and to my knowledge there has never 
 been an Indian buried here." 
 
 " Manulito s brother was a white man." 
 
 " A white man ? Oh ! ah ! yes I see : a half- 
 brother, I suppose." 
 
 " No !" said Manulito, indignantly. " He was my 
 brother because he was my best friend ; because he 
 was good to me and true to me, and because I 
 loved him better than all the world." 
 
 " Oh, I beg pardon, I didn t mean to hurt your 
 feelings. Do you remember his name ?" 
 
 " Remember his name ! Remember his name, 
 whose looks and words and thoughts are part of 
 Manulito s existence ! Do you remember your 
 son s name, your mother s, your own? Yet you 
 will forget them all before Manulito forgets the 
 name of Wellington." 
 
 " What !" said the sexton, in surprise ; " Judge 
 Wellington?" 
 
 " Yes," said Manulito. 
 27* 
 
318 MANULITO. 
 
 " Right over yonder, on the brow of that hill, 
 a big square monument, you will find it all right." 
 As Manulito started in the direction pointed, the 
 sexton continued in a low voice : " That must be 
 the Indian I heard of." 
 
 When Manulito first saw the monument, he 
 quickened his steps, read the inscription, and then, 
 sinking on his knees, said, " And this is his grave." 
 Then he knelt for a long time in silent grief. 
 
 Wellington was as much a child of nature as 
 Manulito. He loved to wander over the hills and 
 through the shadowy glens, and his mind was in 
 the sweetest communion with their quiet and soli 
 tude. As Manulito stood at his grave that after 
 noon, a panorama of varied beauty lay stretched 
 before him. Far to the south the spires and lofty 
 buildings of an active city could be seen ; to the 
 west, a continuation of rolling hills, dotted here 
 and there with little bunches of trees, farm-houses, 
 and cattle quietly feeding on the hill-side ; to the 
 north, a solid body of ancient oak-trees defying 
 the eye to penetrate it; far to the east, overlook 
 ing the nearer bluffs, one saw a valley of green, 
 threaded here and there by the silvery creeks and 
 streams that meandered through it ; while at his 
 feet the Mississippi River rolled along in circling 
 eddies or seemed as calm as a breathless night, 
 while its surface was as polished glass. The dew 
 of evening had begun to fall, and carried to Manu 
 lito the sweet incense of new-mown hay, which lay 
 
THE WANDERERS RETURN. 319 
 
 in rows in an adjacent field. The birds were sing 
 ing their evening songs as he stooped and picked 
 from the grave a clover blossom and a stem bear 
 ing four leaves, emblematic of good luck, and 
 bringing to completion any wish of its finder. 
 Raising his eyes to heaven, he said, 
 
 " Manulito believes as his brother did. Oh, may 
 the Great Spirit pity him, and here at this time 
 grant his prayer! May the window of heaven 
 open, that his dear dead brother may see him 
 weeping at his grave, for Manulito believes that 
 those in heaven are permitted to look down on 
 earth and see those they love weeping at their 
 graves !" 
 
 Darkness was spreading over the world. The 
 birds had gone to rest, all except one mourning 
 dove, which cooed its plaintive song as if its sad 
 notes would heal the broken heart. The crickets 
 chirped in the meadows. The awakened owl 
 hooted his thrilling cry. The stars glittered in the 
 sky. But Manulito was on bended knees at the 
 grave. 
 
 He took the clover-leaf and some wild flowers 
 which he had gathered, kissed them lovingly, and 
 softly laying them on the grass, turned to depart, 
 but suddenly prostrated himself and kissed the 
 grave where his dead friend rested. Then he rose, 
 walked slowly away, and soon darkness hid him 
 from view. 
 
 A few days later, Mrs. Wellington and her chil- 
 
320 MANULITO. 
 
 dren were surprised on seeing Manulito ushered 
 into their home. He had long been given up as 
 dead. His once proud spirit seemed crushed. 
 They tried to induce him to make them an ex 
 tended visit, but he would not consent. On the 
 night of the second day, just such a moonlight 
 night as when he bade them farewell before, the 
 spirit of unrest seized upon him, and he said, 
 " The footsteps of Manulito must follow the trail 
 defined by his heart, and his heart bids him seek 
 the prairies and the mountains, there to pass his 
 last days among his adopted people." 
 
 Years afterwards they learned that he had died 
 a peaceful death. His declining years showed the 
 nobility of the man, for his character was such that 
 he was loved in life and idolized in death. And 
 when chivalrous deeds are mentioned as having 
 been done by members of his adopted tribe, or the 
 names of their greatest warriors pronounced, the 
 name of Manulito takes precedence of all. He 
 was an Indian, and yet 
 
 " His life was gentle ; and the elements 
 So mix d in him, that Nature might stand up 
 And say to all the world, " This was a man I" 
 
 THE END. 
 

 Wife 
 

 
 I