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THI MENA WEEKLY STAR.
A, W. 8T. JOHN A SONS, Ptbllahtn. MENA..ARKANSAS. “HIDE AND SEEK.” •‘E-nle, me-nle, ml-nle. mo,” Er-standln’ up In single row, Countin’ down ’n’ back once more, Jist one shorter *n’ 'twas before; ’Taln’t no fun ter hev ter blind. Best er purty hard ter find. On’y two left! Count It slow— *’E-nle, me-nle, ml-nle, mo.” Bobby’s left, *n’ I am out. So he turns hls-se’f erbout, Hides his face so he can’t see Wher we’re scamperin’, Ted ’n’ me; “Five an’ ten an’ fifteen—say. Hurry tip! Don't be all day!” Makes him cross I counted so, . “E-nle, me-nle, ml-nle, mo.” Teller strawstacks plied up high, Clim’ on top if yer min' ter try. Snuggle ’way In an’ out uv sight, Bobby’ll hev ter hunt all night. Here he comes Jest on ther run, Ted an’ me keep pokin’ fun. Peekin’ down an’ whisperin’ low— “E-nle, me-nle, ml-nie, mo." Speckles files up there ter lay— "Kut, kut. kut. ku-da-a-kut’’—say, Wa’nt she scared, ’n how she flew, All ther hens "ku-da-a-kut,” too. Bobby wonders where we’re at. Shoos ol’ Shanghai with his hat, Ted ’n me both help him crow— “E-nie, me-nle, ml-nle, mo." ■“Walter S. Stranahan, In Chicago News. I LITTLE KYUSE, ... i ... THE BRAVE. | THE ORPHAN PAWNEE ON I THE PONY EXPRESS. flwvwMWMwwmwmwffmwwmM WHEN there were no railroads west of Missouri or east of California they used to carry mail and light freight on horseback between St. Joe and Sacramento. This service was known as the pony express. Horses swift and strong and riders brave and enduring were employed, and relay sta tions were set 50 miles apart across the Great American desert. Of course the west was wild at that time; many riders were murdered and the letters and other valuable articles taken and destroyed. Indians would steal tipon these little stations, kill the keepers and carry the horses away with them, so that when the weary rider arrived there was no one to take his place, and after gazing nt the black ruins for a moment he would push his tired horse on toward the next sta tion. At first it was hard to find man who were willing to face these dreadful Li lians for the pay offered by the com pany and equally difficult to get men to dwell alone in these solitary sta tions to protect and care for the horses. Away out in Wyoming there lived a trapper, known only by the name of Whipsaw—u name given him by a gam bler in Deadwood. A Sioux who had a hideous scar upon his face had come to this trapper's camp one winter’s day with a Pawnee baby, naked and nearly frozen. The Sioux wanted to sell the boy. and the trapper gave him a knife and kept the child. The young Pawnee was not more than three years old when the trapper took him from the savage, warmed him, fed him and put moc casins on his little brown feet. Two years later Whipsaw went to keep the station called White Hoss for the pony express, taking the Pawnee with him. The little fellow grew to love his white father and seemed to conceive a bitter hatred for all Indians, One day some friendly hunters called nt the station. The little redskin slipped out quietly, cut the ropes and let their horses go. At another time he attempted to shoot an Indian who had stopped at the door, but could not raise the rifle. Like all Indians, he was ever alert. The scratch of a prowling bear on the cabin door or the cry of a lone wolf on a far-off hill would brimr him from a sound sleep. He would hear the hoots or the incoming horses beating the plains a mile away and long before his white master could hear the faintest sound. ‘‘Kj'use, kyuse,” he would whisper in the dead of night. He w as an alarm clock for the station, and at his w arn ing the rider who was resting there would get up. throw a saddle across the back of his bronco and be ready to snatch the pouch from the man who was then galloping down the trail. The little Pawnee was never too cold or too sleepy to go out and w elcome the weary rider and pat the nose of the wpent steed, saying softly the while: “Kyuse. kyuse.” It was the boy’s great fondness for horses that caused Whipsaw- to call him “Little Kyuse.” When they had kept the station a year Little Kyuse was known, by repu tation, at leust, to every rider on the entire route from St. Joe to Sacra mento. Once he had warned the inen who were sleeping in the cabin, and they had gone out just in time to save the horses that were about to be stolen by Indians. The story of the boy’s do ings reached headquarters and the pres ident of the Pony Express company sent a short, light rifle to the young watchman, and before he was six years old he had killed a wolf that came to the station while he was alone. One night Whipsaw woke and found the boy sitting up in his blnukets lis tening. “Kyuse?” asked Whipsaw. “No kyuse,” said the boy, shaking hi* head and looking serious. “Sleep,” said the man, but the Indian shook his head. “Wake up, here, Bob,” said Whipsaw; “suthin’s goin* wrong.” “What is it?” asked the rider, rub bing his eyes. “I cnn’t make out clear,” said Whip saw, “but suthin’s wrong. This kid’s cockin’ his ear an’ when I tell him to lay down he shakes his head.” Whipsaw lit a match and looked at his watch. “Long time,” said the boy, shaking his head. “Long time—no kyuse.” Then they knew what the child meant. It was one o'clock; the pony express was an hour late, and the boy knew that it was so. For another hour the two men sat and waited for a sign from the boy, who listened for the sound of the horse’s feet. Presently the Pawnee crawled out, put his ear to the ground, came back and shook his master. “Kyuse?” asked Whipsaw. “Heap kyuse,” was the boy’s reply, and they understood. It was not the lone rider, but a baud of Sioux bent upon mischief. Little Kyuse seized his rifle, slipped out, and the two men followed him. To guard against surprises of this sort Whipsaw hud dug short trenches, deep enough to hide a man, all about the cabin, and now, to his surprise, Little Kyuse planted himself in one of these holes. Without a word the two men took places, one to the right, the other to the left of the boy, and waited. When the robbers had reached a little sag in the desert, some 500 yards from the sta tion, they dismounted, and now came creeping upon the lonely cabin. One came crouching so close to Whipsaw that he could almost have reached him with his rifle barrel. The trapper was sore afraid that the boy or Bob might open fire, for how was this child to know that he was waiting for the band to assemble near the cabin door before attacking them? But Little Kyuse was as wise in his first fight as a white man would be at 21. The clouds were breaking, and in the starlight they could see the Sioux, six of them, near the cabin door. They listened—one of them pushed the door open. Now an Indian went in, came out a momeut later, and they all filed in at the very LITTLE KYUSE PULLED THE TRIGGER. moment that Whipsaw was about to open fire. Instantly he changed his plan. They would charge on the cabin door and light the gang, which out numbered them, even counting the boy, two to one. Without a word Whipsaw got to his feet, and instantly his com panions were at his side. Hob held his rifle, the trapper laid his upon the ground and held a six-shot re volver in each hand. It was to be close and rapid lighting; he would empty his six-shooters and after that the knife. Little Kyuse grasped his rifle with II shots in the magazine, and he knew how to work it, too. There was no word of command, but as Whipsaw leaned for ward they all started double quick for the cabin. Ten paces from the door they stopped, the boy still sandwiched between the men. The Sioux must have heard them, for now they came pour ing out. Before they had gained the open air the little party opened fire. Two of the Indians fell, und the others returned the fire, but with bad aim. Another round from the white men nnd two more Sioux bit the dust. Bob was pumping his rifle when a ball from the cabin door shattered his right shoulder Dropping his gun he pulled his six shooter and continued to tight. Hav ing emptied both of his revolvers, Whip saw slammed one of them into the face of a Sioux, who came for him with a knife. The two men began fighting hand to hand now, while Little Kyuse kept pumping small shot into the othei remaining Sioux. Seeing Whipsaw hard pressed, the boy began to watch for n chance to use his little rifle. Hot succeeded at last in stopping his man and then fell wenk from loss of blood Whipsaw had been shot and badly cut when his antagonist paused to get ad vantage. Instantly Little Kyuse shoved his rifle ns near the Sioux’s left side as he couid get it and pulled tin trigger, and the big. bad Indian sank i« a heap. Thus did Little Kyuse reward the white trapper for his tender earn ami avenge the death of his futbti rau mother, who had been killed by his cap tor, the Sioux. In the sag not far away they found the horses that the robbers had ridden, and the express pony, with the pouch still on the saddle, standing in a bunch, their bridles tied together. About a mile up the trail they found the body of the rider, stiff and cold, with a bullet hole in his head, and car ried him back and buried him, and there wouldn’t have been a soul at the funeral only for Little Kyuse. The next day, when they were cache ing the carcasses of the dead Indians, Little Kyuse shocked and surprised the white men by constantly clubbing and kicking the corpses. Of a sudden he gave a yell and seized his rifle, and be gan emptying it into one of the dead Indians. Whipsaw took the gun away from him. “See! See!” cried the boy, pointing at the Sioux, and the trapper recog nized in the object of the boy’s wrath the hideous features of the scar-faced Sioux who had sold the child at whose hands he had, in his own good time, been taken off.—N. Y. Sun. THE YOUNG CHAPLAIN. An Old-Tini«- Revival Among the Ca dets at Went Point. One night in 1825 a clergyman was taking tea with John C. Calhoun, then secretary of war. suddenly Mr. Cal houn said to his guest: “Will you accept the place of chap lain and professor of ethics at West Point? If you will, I will appoint you ut. once.” The clergyman was Chajles P. Me Iivaine, then but 25 years of age, and subsequently know n as the “Bishop ol Ohio.” He accepted the appointment because West Point then had an un savory reputation. There was not a Christian among officers and cadets. Many of them were skeptics, and the others were coolly indifferent to re ligiou. He was received as gentlemen receive a gentleman, but no one showee the least sympathy with him as a clergy man. For months his preaching seemec as words spoken in the air. His tirsi encouragement was an offensive expres sion. He was walking home from church one Sunday a few' feet in advance ol several officers. “The chaplain’s preach ing is getting hotter and hotter,” lit heard one of them say. In a few days he received another bil of encouragement. He was dining with a company at the house of an officer A lieutenant, a scoffer, hurled a bittei sr^er at clergymen. The chaplain left the table. The officers threatened tc send the lieutenant to “Coventry” il he did not apologize. He called anc asked the chaplain’s pardon. Another officer took offense at one o' the chaplain s sermons and wrote hire a bold avowal of skeptical opinions. The chaplain, seeing in these inch dents evidence that tlie chronic indif terence was giving way to opposition persevered. But opposition was all th< encouragement he received during tin year. Not a cadet had visited him 01 even sought his acquaintance. But one Saturday, the only day tin cadets were allowed to visit an offieei without special permission, one of tin most popular of the cadets knocked al the chaplain’s door. He wished to be gin the Christian life then and there and asked for counsel. In a day oi two another cadet called on a similai errand; then another and another Then several officers came. A meeting for prayer was appointed twice a week It was the first public prayer meeting held at West Point. Officers and cadet* crowded in, though all who came pro fessed thereby to begin a religious life At first it required ns much couragt to enter that room as it did to lead a forlorn hope. One of the cadets w as Leonidas Polk afterward bishop of Louisiana. Intei ligent, high-toned and commanding in person, he was the conspicuous cadet Seeing that it was his duty to make :t public confession of his faith in CTirist 110 asaeu iur After baptizing him the chaplain made a brief address, closing with a charge to be faithful, “Amen,” re sponded Polk, in a voice that rang through the church. The “amen” was from the heart. Immediately the bap tized cadet became a missionary to hh comrades. A solemnity pervaded the academy during the remaining two years thui this clergyman served as chaplain. Hall the corps became Christian men. Sev eral of them, leaving the army, were promoted to the ministry. Many oi those who entered the army rose to eminence. They adorned their profes sion and the Christiun religion. This era in West Point was created through divine aid by a young man who simply did his duty patiently and left the result with Cod.—Christian at Work. One of Cardinal Mnnninit’N Ilainps. The late Cardinal Manning once sattc a sculptor for his bust. During the sit tingsthesculptor discoursed on phren ology, and Manning made him point out on the head he was modeling the various “bumps.” At last Manning asked: “Where is the organ of con scientiousness?” The sculptor walked across the room to where Manning was sitting, aiid, touching a certain pa. t ol the cardinal’s cranium, said: "TLat’s where it ougat to be.”—Chicago CUnwu ids. ENGLISH LOVE-MAKING. Carton* St*tl*«l** •» Regard to Brlt i*h Proposal* of Starring*. Statistics are at present being col ected on almost every conceivable »ub lect. What do you think of an English icholar who has actually thought it worth his while to collect statistics in regard to the manner in which men and women make love to each other/ He has spent considerable time over this ielicate work, and now at last he in forms the world how the men, as a rule, □ropose to the women, and how the women, as a rule, accept the proposals af the men. According to the English scholar, the number of young Englishmen who em brace their sweethearts at the moment when they are inviting them to become their wives amounts to 3b per cent. 3n the other hand, 07 per cent, of the men in love’kiss their sweethearts on the lips at the critical moment, while four per cent, shower kisses on their hair and two per cent, content them selces with kissing their hands. At one time it was the fashion for love intoxicated youths to fall on their knees when about to make proposals of mar riage, but this fashion is evidently dy ing out, for we are assured that only three per cent, of those in love at pres ent fall on one knee, while only two per cent, venture to sue for their ladies fa vor on both knees. A curious reason has been assigned for the decadence of this chivalrous custom, which is, that of late years the nether garments of males have been so constructed that it is rather risky for any man to flop down suddenly on his knees in a lady s pres nee. Garments, when straiued, will rip and tear, and no self-respecting lover desires to have his act of adoration turned into a farce by any such cas ualty. Un the other band wooers of to-day seem to be far more nervous than the gallant men w ho wooed and won a cen tury ago. Just fancy, 20 per cent, of the English lovers of to-day are awfully nervous when the decisive moment comes, and in the throat of each moth er’s son of them there seems to be a huge lump, which it is impossible for them to swallow. How they get over this diiliculty Heaven only knows. Somehow the lump disappears after they have struggled with it a miuute of two, after w h ich it is to be hoped that their agony is at an end. The behavior of the young women is similarly remarkable. When the men invite them to share their homes they by no means all act alike. Eighty-one out of every hundred fall without a word into the outstretched arms of their chosen ones and so very easily put an end to a rather embarrassing, if otherwise very delightful, situation; 68 per cent, blush very becomingly,#nd i iu maidenly fashion shrink away as though frightened at their companions’ boldness; one out of every hundred— possibly more, possibly less, says the English statistician—falls on a sofa as though about to faint, and four per cent, are really astonished at receiving proposals of marriage. On the other hand 80 out of every 100 know very well what the men have come for, and hence they are not taken una ware, and they behave just as they should behave on such a momentous oc casion. Furthermore, 60 per cent, look their wooers boldly in the eyes, evident ly with the idea either of still further bewitching them, or of relieving them from their apparent embarrassment. Curious facts these, but the most curious fact of all is that one maiden out of every hundred runs away before the young man has finished his pretU love tale, with the object of telling the good news to her girl friends. It is pleasant to know that wooing in England is, as a rule, the preliminary to a long and happy union. The latest statistics show that the average annual number of applications^or divorce does nnt pYPHPtl which i« ccrtninlir enroll ' ^ - *1 considering that the number of Eng lishmen and Englishwoman who marry each year is computed at 450,000. If we take the ten years from 1886 to 1890, we find that the annual number of divorces has been about 500 and the annual num ber of marriages about 400,000.—N. V. Herald. An Kxctteil Bridegroom, A rather amusing incident occurred the other day on u street car while crossing from the west to the east side. There was a prospective bridegroom on the ear, and he had just been across the river to the county clerk’s office to get n license and was returning, ac companied by a friend, who had gone with him to certify that the bride was of sufficient age to get married without the consent of her parents. It maybe said that the age of the bridegroom wras 70, and that of the bride about 65, so there was no danger of the witness get ting into trouble. On the car the bride groom put his hand in his pocket to pay both fares, and he was so flus trated over his approaching happiness .hat lie did not lock to see what he handed the conductor, when, in faet he had given him a nickel and a five dollar gold piece. The conductor did not even look at the money, but passed to the front platform, where a China man was standing. The Chinaman landed him a ten-cent piece, and the conductor gave him the five dollars Dunking he was giving a nickel in change. The Chinaman pocketed the money without saying anything. The bridegroom made the discovery the next ^*0• Portland Oregonian. HER SOUL UNBURDENgQ^S A Young Bride’s Confession In the of the Honeymoon. “^ilj Charley Wheeler and Lucille Spro,kl ett had been married nearly weeks, and they had just return!* from their wedding trip. They r J supremely happy in each other’s W* anti the honeymoon so far had been,* them as one long, blissful dreahl Within the next day or two, howev^B the bride grew slightly depressed h* spirits, and an uneasy feeling seemftil to take possession of her. The y0Ut}* husband noticed the change, but tributed it to fatigue from the receJ travels. But his bride grew moJ nervous aud took on such a troubled* expression that he said to her: "You have something on your miy I darling, that is troubling you. me what it is.” At first she tried to persuade hit* that he was mistaken; that nothinj* worried her. "You are wrong, Charley, dear,” siJ would say. "Really, I am not worry* ing over anything. I am justashappj* as I could be.” The day following, however, tlJ young wife wore such a troubled lo^l that her husband said to her: "Lucille, you must tell me what it* troubling you. I will not he put off* any longer. As your husband I hart* a right to know.” Seeing that further concealment wail impossible, she broke down and sobbed* a, Charley, I am so unhappy,” she* waned. i nave—ueceivcu—you." A sickening sensation swept over the young husband. Surely there must l* some mistake. She, whom he had looked upon as the personification of innocent womanhood—deceive him. It must not be. It would destroy hi» happiness and blight his life. And then, when he caught a sudden vision of the horrible possibilities of the situ ation, he became sick at heart and al most fell to the floor. Then, with a great effort, he controlled his feeling* “Tell me,” he said, “I am prepared for the worst.” “Oh, Charley, I am so sorry.” “You should have thought of this before.” “I know, I know, I see my mistake, now it’s too late,” she cried. “Oh, why didn’t I tell you before we were mar ried.” “Tell me now and be quick about it; I cannot bear this suspense.” Then she came over and knelt at his feet. “Oh, Charley, you know the wheel I got just a few weeks before we were married—” “Yes; but what has that—” “Why, 1 bought it—on the—install ment plan—84 a month—and have only paid—one installment And I just know the collector will be—here to morrow. Oh, Charley,” she sobbed, “can you ever forgive me?”—Ohio State Journal. Note That ('aimed Trouble. A young gentleman whose gallantry was largely in excess of his pecuniary means sought to remedy this defect and save the money required for the purchase of expensive flowers by ar ranging with a gardener to let him have a bouquet from time to time in return for his cast-off clothes. It thus happened one day that he received* biinch of the most beautiful roses, which he at once sent to his lady love In sure anticipation of a friendly wel come he called at the house of the lady the same evening, and was not a little surprised at the frosty reception he met with. “You sent me a note to-day,” the young lady remarked after a pause, in ! the most frigid tones. »*T a nil v • • vll 1 . -» —u. mm*. lie mijuiniu iu astonishment. “Certainly, along with a nosegay.” “To be sure, I sent you a nosegay.” “And there was this note inside; do you still mean to deny it?” With these words she handed the dumfounded swain a scrap of paper, on which the following words were written: “Don’t forget the old trous ers you promised me the other day.” London Telegraph. A GRAND WORK Helping Tired Mothers and Giving Ro*F CheeRs to CbHdreq. Thousands of tired, nervous, worried women have found strength, health and happiness in Hood’s Sarsaparilla, whirl' purifies their blood, strengthens their nerves and gives them good appetites Pale and puuy children are given rosy cheeks and vigorous appetites by the great blood enriching qualities of Hood’s Sarsaj paniia. It is indeed the mother’s friend and it may well have a place in thousand* of families. Be sure to get Hood’s Hood’s Pills SOUTHERN Homeseekers’ Guide Every homeseeker should address either J-J" A. G. P. A., Manchester. la-i W. A' p- A- Louisville, Ky-. or S-“ IIA rCH. I>. p. a., Cincinnati, O., for a free copy STOPPED FREE PERMANENTLY ■iTSMrtfe NERVE RESTORE* '* enr* form JiVr-tous iHteasrs “'fc5E«»e^ and St. Vitus' Danee No Kit* ‘ , fytt »lFrunoJ"„ n"*- Treatise and *2 trlaljg^iSs w p.tionii, thrr perinx express chore--n,i'r Send to DR. KI.1NK. !,Ul.. H-Heru* ft. Axtllolue. 933 Arch btfeet, PHILADtU ***•