Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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“Johnny, why did you kill White Sachem?” It was a minute before the man deigned to answer. ‘•He killed Charlie,” pointing to the figure at the table, “and I killed him.” • ♦ “The Shawnee fired twice.” the sheriff said the next morning as he recruited a posse, “and both bullets took effect.” Little Chief Tom Tom softly closed the door on the room and its occupants and walked out into the open air. Slowly he realized what he had done, lie had killed a “big” man of the neighborhood and among these people—he glanced at their houses—he, an Indian, would have the same chance of living as a coyote when a hunter finds him in his steel trap. He mounted his pony and turned its head toward the mountains, black in the distance. For hours the Indian rode, seeing nothing but the white road before him and listening to the frogs in the ponds along the wayside and the pounding of his pony’s hoofs. The hour before dawn found him high in the hills which overlook the town of Susanville. lie had dismounted to rest his pony and stood looking down through the darkness at the valley below. The morning breeze rustled the leaves over his head and numerous small sounds came thru the solemn stillness, the bark of watch-dogs anti now and then the voice of some one talking. After a while lights appeared in scattered places and twinkled like stars. The new day was beginning. In the valley below lay the village of Susanville. Chief 'Pom Tom was almost as well informed about happenings there as if it were his own town, lie knew that a racing tournament was in progress and that today the final race was to be run—the grand sweepstakes with two thousand dollars as prize. He thought of what lie could do with that much money, hirst, he would secure the services of Covey Hooper, the. best lawyer in seven counties—a man who could prove the moon was made of cheese. That man could save—even an Indian. It he could but enter his pony in the races. But no. Tepee was old; his last race was probably run. Never again would she flash over the line at the head of a flying body of horses. Besides, Tepee was tired. But there was yet a chance. In the town below there was a great Arabian stallion who had not been entered in the race. According to his master, no one could ride him with sufficient ease. Little Chief Tom Tom could ride him. Tom Tom, Shawnee brave, the Indian who could ride a horse where a horse could not be ridden. Yes, there was still a chance. He would make a fifty-fifty proposition to the owner, sell Tepee for money with which to pay the entrance fee and then ride, ride. ride. A pale light in the east cut short the Indian’s thoughts. He gathered Page Twenty-five