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Show StormTestameni (Continued from Friday's Express) It was lucky for me that the slope of the hill was fairly steep, preventing the Indian's horse from lengthening its stride to a full gallop. I ran with wild abandon, fast enough to maintain a 30 or 40-foot gap between me and the Indian, In-dian, but not fast enough to widen the gap any further. I expected at any moment to receive an obisdian-tipped arrow in the middle mid-dle of my back, but taking a quick glance over my shoulder, I could see that all of the arrows were still in the quiver. It seemed clear that his intention inten-tion was to capture me alive. Then he would have a choice of either torturing tortur-ing me to death or selling me into slavery, so I could spend the rest of my life in a Mexican silver mine. Maybe he thought a white boy would bring a good price. The hill dropped off sharply at the water's edge creating an eight or ten-foot ten-foot bank above the water. I didn't even break stride as I reached the edge of the bank, but pushed off from the edge and flew out over the pond, instinctively aiming for an open place between two of the beaver-sharpened stumps. My legs were churning wildly wild-ly through the air as if I were still running run-ning when I hit the water at the intended intend-ed place, the momentum of the fall forcing for-cing me to my knees in the shallow water. I lunged forward, half swimming swimm-ing and crawling in my mad effort to: get out of the way before the Indian pony plunged over the bank and landed land-ed on top of me. Realizing the water was little more than a foot deep, I scrambled to my feet, looking over my shoulder as soon as I had my footing. Having just noticed notic-ed the steep bank at the water's edge, the Indian was trying to pull his pony to a stop, but the momentum was too great. The pony sat back on his heels in a honest effort to stop, but it was too late. At the edge of the bank, the Indian In-dian made a mistake in trying to turn the horse to one side by pulling its head around. If he hadn't done that, the horse would probably have maintained maintain-ed its balance and lunged straight ahead into the pond. As it was, both horse and rider lost their balance and tumbled head over heels towards the pond, the unfortunate Indian hitting the water just ahead of his pony. I was only 16 years old and rather skinny, certainly not yet skilled or confident con-fident in the art of hand-to-hand combat. com-bat. Nevertheless, I realized that if I was ever going to have to fight this Indian, In-dian, there would never be a better time than the present. I drew the knife from my belt and readied myself to advance ad-vance on the Indian, offering a quick prayer that I would have the courage to do what needed to be done. The horse was about ten feet in front of me, on its side in the water, its back toward me, its hooves thrashing wildly wild-ly in a desperate effort to regain its footing, the wild-eyed head splashing back and forth in the water. The Ute warrior was not in sight. I hoped he was under those thrasing hooves. . Suddenly the Indian's head broke the surface of the water, a foot or so my side of the horse's back. He looked look-ed straight at me, a grim expression on his face. I took one step back, bracing brac-ing myself for the attack which I suspected would be coming. Suddenly Sudden-ly I realized, however, that in order for the warrior's head to be where it was, in such shallow water, his body had to be extended horizontally on its belly beneath the thrashing pony. I relaxed my grip on the knife, realizing the Ute warrior was pinned beneath his pony. I knew, too, that once the pony got over on its stomach, it would probably trample the warrior as it scrambled to its feet. I waited a few moments, expecting the horse's hooves to do my fighting for me, but the animal's violent thrashing quickly subsided and its head fell limply back into the water. The horse was either dead or dying, and would not be getting up again. The warrior, who had been waiting for his mount to scramble to its feet, and now realizing that the horse was not going to be getting up, began to squirm back and forth in an effort to get out from under the horse. I bit my lip and made myself move in for the kill, realizing that if he wiggled free, the odds would again be in his favor. He was older and much stronger than me. My intention was to drown him by holding his head under the water, or if that failed, to cut his throat with my knife. It as a matter of kill or be killed, kill-ed, survival of the fittest, and it I acted quickly, I would probably be the survivor. Holding my knife out In front, In a half-crouch I waded carefully towards the helpless Indian. Seeing me coming, he stopped wiggling and itarcd directly direct-ly Into my eyes. There was no fear in his expression, his black yes Intense and fierce. It was clear he Intended to fight me with hia teeth If necessary. My courage began to melt, but I forced forc-ed myself to move one step closer. (Continued In FrkUyi Epmi yJ win f - ill 1 vednesdoy, Morch 28, 1984 Vernal ExpressAdvertiser 19 f444444W444444444444444444444444444444444444444 Holly's Hints by Holly Baker Uintah County Home Economist f4444444444444444444444444444444444444444444 Slow cookers for Springtime eating The latest weapon against arson. t- A ' T ft 01 Though you often think of slow cookers for cold weather meals, they can be great year round. Busy people are discovering the convenience of crockpots in planning and cooking ahead. Year round slow cooker recipes are limitless. Slow cookers are great for ham and scalloped potatotes, sweet and sour pork, tender flank steak, braised shortribs, barbecued meatballs meat-balls and other savory meat, poultry and vegetable dishes that never go out of season. A slow cooker has many pluses: It lets you use cheaper cuts of meat (slow cookers tenderize); it lets you save energy dollars (the cooker can run all day for pennies) ; and it retains nutrients in foods (because of the low cooking temperatures, valuable proteins pro-teins and vitamins are less likely to be lost than in stove top cooking.) There's only one problem with slow cookers: time-lag. There is a danger period of up to two hours at the beginning begin-ning of cooking before the pot reaches a heat high enough (above 140 F.) to kill most common food poisoning bacteria. Cooks are advised to be extra ex-tra careful in the storage and care of foods. A Public Service of This Newspaper & The Advertising Council $f4444444444444-4444444444444444444444 ; ! DONNY SAWYER shows summer styles for men in this long sleeved sleev-ed cotton sweater and shorts by EJoven and Robert Bruce. Spring and summer fashions presented in Ashton's show Ashton's had their 3rd annual Spring and Summer Fashion Show on Saturday, Satur-day, March 24 in their ladies department. The models were a combination of Ashton employees and residents of the area. The emcees were John Schwisow and Patty Rocha. The fashions were shown from the men's, women's, children's and fabric departments and were all selections for those summer days ahead. They also had a swimsuit review that was done with top hats and black canes to the song, "Puttin' on the Ritz." ' v mmm .mmm PpM KEVIN DICKSON, the umpire, calls the pitch caught by Michelle Martin a strike as Gayle Clark questions the decision during the 1984 Wiffleball Championship at Vernal Junior High School Thursday, March 22. Dr. Childs' team, the Terrorizers beat Mr. McCoy's Bombers with a score of 17-10. 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