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Page 17 text:
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I won ' t, replied Peggy, her fiery nature aroused again. Back and forth the battle raged for quite a while, Peggy pleading the kitten ' s cause and Miss Preston loudly declaring it a pest. Tired out, Miss Preston finally said, if you ' ll eat prunes, I ' ll let you keep it. Peggy struggled between her love for the kitten and her hatred for prunes. At last she feebly guessed she could eat prunes. Miss Preston departed wearing a victorious smile. The kitten curled up in its new mistress ' lap and went to sleep. ELEANOR WELLS. THE PINTO PONY SITUATED in a large horseshoe bend of the Yellowstone River is Pompey ' s Pillar, a rocky formation, which rises from the river bottom. On one side of the bend was a slough in what had been the old river bed. Toward the north and a little to one side rose the bad land bluffs from fifty to one hundred feet. The rest of the bend was prairie, dotted here and there with sage brush and clumps of wild grass. It was in this bend that two companies of cavalry, under the com- mand of Captain Baker, had made camp in the late spring of 1 877. It was a year after Custer ' s Last Stand, and the people in that section ot the country were afraid of Indian raids. The wagon trains were at this time bringing provisions to the many mining towns and these must be pro- tected. So the cavalry were out scouting the country. Early one morning the pickets came running into camp with word that the Indians were coming. Instantly every man in camp was astir. The horses were driven among the cottonwood trees that followed the bank inside the bend, for protection against bullets and stampede. The soldiers lay down in the slough With their guns by their side, ready for instant action. Then above the bluffs the Indians appeared, creeping from bush to boulder and firing down on the soldiers. As the fight progressed, the Indians grew bolder. To be brave is part of the Indian ' s religion and the Crow Ind ans were very brave. On their ponies they would come at full gallop down the line of solders for a half or three-quarters of a mile, yelling and waving their war bonnets and guns, then they would disappear behind the bluffs. One Indian, in particular, the white men noticed. He was a finely built brave riding a pinto pony. Twice he had
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Page 16 text:
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A Compromise ¥ WON ' T! I won ' t! I won ' t! screamed Peggy, emphasizing each 1 won ' t with the stamp of her foot. Peggy ' s ancestors were from Ireland, and Peggy inherited a temper which the orphan asylum only made worse. You will, replied Miss Preston, tersely. I won ' t, replied Peggy, looking at her with blazing eyes and her two braids sticking out obstinately in different directions. You will go up to your room without any supper. I shall come up later to see if you have changed your mind. Go. Peggy went — as far as the door — then turned around. I ' ll never eat another prune, so there, and she stamped up the stairs into her room. I won ' t! I won ' t! she cried, throwing herself on the bed and punching the pillow at each outburst. The only response was a faint meow. Peggy giggled hysterically. I do declare, she said, I forgot all about you. Come here. The cat came, but not of its own accord, for Peggy pulled it out by one leg. The cat, however, was nothing of beauty, as one ear was gone and its color was white, or maybe, gray; it was such a dirty creature, no one could tell. Thump ! Thump ! Thump ! Some one was coming up the stairs. The cat immediately disappeared into the waste basket, which was the nearest thing at hand, and was covered by an old dust cloth that should have been used to better advantage. The matron appeared at the door. Peggy had expected Miss Preston to come. Well! exclaimed Miss Preston. Peggy said nothing. There was silence for a few minutes. Miss Preston glanced around the room; dust met her eye everywhere. At last her glance traveled to the waste basket. Here, she said, grabbing the cloth, take this — and — her voice trailed off as she spied the kitten. Where did you get that creature? she inquired. That creature rubbed against her in the most sociable manner. Found him, replied Peggy, promptly. Where? Miss Preston was stern. In the alley back of the barn. Take it away anywhere. Get rid of it. It is a pest, commanded Miss Preston, and a lecture on cats followed.
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Page 18 text:
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passed, but nearer to them than the rest of the Indians. Lieutenant Hard, one of the officers in charge of the scouting party, said to his companion: The next time that fellow passes I ' m going to get him. It went down the line that Lieutenant Hard, who was known as a dead shot, was going to kill the Indian on the pinto horse. When the Indian appeared around the bluff the soldiers stopped firing in his direction and waited to se what would happen. Lieutenant Hard climbed out of the slough and, dropping on one knee, took careful aim, and then slowly and deliberately pulled the trigger. Both horse and rider fell. When Lieutenant Hard had appeared above the bank the Indians concentrated their fire on him, but he rolled over the bank and into the slough to safety. Hardly pausing in their gallop, some of the braves circled around the fallen Indian, picked him up and carried him from the battlefield. Several months later Lieutenant Hard boarded a steamer bound down the Mississippi River. There were also some commissioners on board who were taking a Crow Indian chief and some prominent men of the tribe to Washington, D. C, to see about a reservation for their tribe. In the evening spent on the boat the white men and Indians would gather in the smoking room. The Indians, squatting about the room, did little conversing themselves, but with the aid of the interpreter, listened to the tales the white men told. It came to be Lieutenant Hard ' s turn and he told about the fight at Pompey ' s Pillar and of the Indian on the pinto pony. The interpreter repeated it to the Indians almost as fast as Lieutenant Hard told it. When he had finished, a fine stalwart Indian brave walked up to him and said, How. Then, with the interpreter ' s help, he told of his third ride on the pinto pony of which Lieutenant Hard had spoken. He showed the scars where the bullet had passed through both legs. In doing this it had passed through the backbone of the horse, which accounted for its fall and the ride ' s narrow escape. This is a true story, told to me by my uncle, Lieutenant Hard. IRENE FISH.
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