Show 0 0 I 1 circle riders I 1 written by TAYLOR THURBER in the interests of the black hawk encampment screams re sounded through the adobe fort the frightful despairing screams of helpless women mingled with the walling wailing of sobbing hysterical children it was the message the indians are I 1 circling az as it came from andrew Bron sons voice that changed in one moment a scene of peace and quiet conversation to one of cries and visions of torture bar the gates of the fort and every man vill take his place at a port hole with his rifle and ar ammunition n the women will fill the buckets and pans with water and put out the flee fire of blazing arrows which come within the fort commanded andrew As though the lengthened shadows of a setting sun had been given voice came the faint staccato notes of the indians war cry which became louder as moments passed and heart beats quickened A deathlike stillness now prevailed within the fort as the spoken word ceased and the softened light of love from moistened eyes became the messenger of thought through an open port hole on an upper wall the eye of andrew bronson saw a thin wave of dust fashioned as though by myriads of desert whirlwinds whirl winds circling round the fort foft the reddening rays of the sun now sinking away to his couch of richness and rest reflected shining shaf shafts ts of light from shields and ebony spiked spears the circle was coming closer the howlings bow lings of hate increasing A strong gust of wind came suddenly from out the northwest clearing for a moment the dust laden air completely surrounding the fort and but a hundred yards away was what appeared an endless chain of foaming galloping horses on whose backs were bronzed riders swaying back and forth as the tom tom music of horses feet beat a rhythm into the deserts shifting sands from each head streaming out into the wind as they road was a moving mass of crow black hair on and on they galloped closer and closer came that ever moving circle now enclosing the fort the moving panorama revealed a charging maddened black stallion on whose back sat a man with silver bands on his braided hair bair from a tight fitting hood of whitened buc buck k skin fastened about his head bead waved strands of eagle feathers black and white stripes were painted up and down his forehead his cheeks and breast were yellow and red andrew Bron sons eye was fixed on this rider alone could he be the leader of this yelling shrieking bloodthirsty blood thirsty band was he the creator of a plot to massacre would his voice speak the challenge for combat the silence within the fort was unbroken until the voice of bronson rang out this command let no man fire until he has heard the indians war whoop carrying in it the command of fight to the death make your hand steady as your eye must look straight along your nafle A moment of deepening suspense and then as though from the heavens spoken by a rolling peal of thunder was heard the worriers challenge wa pa na wa pa na the entire circle of swaying riders seemed charged with deli dell reum in uttering the dread cry the walls of the fort re echoed while hearts stood still who was the rider on the galloping stallion who was it that sh shouted the ch allange wa pa na see next weeks is issue sue of this paper |