THE FLOWERS WlttUM
TOTIN' TT SP \ T Ci i EDITOR AND
tKMiAl ii. -j PROPRIETOR.
ATLANTA. GA.. SATl'RDAV. JLLV 2T, 1S7.T.
r n7T?\f« fO PER ANNUM,
lLAiMb, } in ADVANCE/
[For The Sunny South.]
BESIDE THE SEA.
BY MARY F. HI NT.
1 walked to-day among the sea-washed beaches,
Beside tlie oceau of a Long Ago.
While Memory’s waves rolled up the yellow reaches,
And made sweet music with their ebb and flow.
A breeze came softly from the water’s edges,
And blew across the length of brighter days,
And shook the blossoms from the wild rose hedges,
And swung the garlands in the forest ways,
I’ntil I saw old spring-times sweet and tender—
The Hash of wings among tin stirring leaves—
Old summers gleaming in a golden splendor—
The starry purple of far vintage eves;
And stopped to listen, where a long way started,
i r vote s dear I knew and loved so w *11—
Just like a child will stand, with lips half-parted.
To listen for the music in a shell!
They come again, with low, soft cadence calling,
Through vacant years, the past days back to me —
Some sweet with joys, and some in sadness falling,
Like the low sobbing of a tropic sea.
Again the leaves of door-yard blossoms whisper,
And birds sing softly in the door-yard trees,
While to my chair there comes a blue-eyed lisper
Whose cheeks are crimsoned by the kissing breeze.
Her curls ol silken hair are partly shaded
With blooms all withered by a morning’s play;
* (dive me a crown that will not get so faded,”
1 hear again the little red lips say.
A fadeless crown? Ah! earth-love could not give her
The shining thing she sought beside my chair;
But God reached out one night “across the river,”
And dropped it softly «*n her golden hair!
[Written f«*r The Sunny South.]
Callie Carson’s Lovers;
FLAT-BOAT, liIYKit AM) KIFLE.
IIY H. UI AI).
i*n c Indians’iuid nothing to gain peace,—
Jny could sec are plunder by war. T hey had
listened closely to the words of Royce Laskins,
and he had fanned the thune of hate and avarice
until it Mazed brightly. He lied to them, say
ing that the white men were preparing to drive
the Indians out of the country, and that his
wound was received while defending the rights
of the red man. He stated that he had been
driven away from Carson’s Landing because it
was known that he was friendly to the Indians,
and he asserted that the only safety for the red
man was to make ready and strike first.
The savages had long been impatient for some
excuse to bike the war-path, and young and old
leaped to their feet under the excitement of the
renegade's words and declared for war. Within
a week after they had dug up the tomahawk, war
would be declared between white and red all
along the river. The Indians were numerous,
the white settlers few, and war would sweep all
the small settlements out of existence.
The attack on the Landing was to be made as
soon as the Indians could get ready. The de
parture of old Carson and Ids men up the river
had been ascertained, and the red-skins planned
to attack so suddenly that not a soul should es
cape. Thanks to the timely warning of Red
Fox, the settlement was saved from surprise and
massacre. The two men who had the defense of
the larger cabin and the women and children,
recovered from their surprise very quickly, and
although they could do nothing to save the poor
women and children already captured, they pre
pared to hold out to the last. Their anxiety for
Callie Carson was intense, knowing that she was
alone, and when the crack of her ride was heard,
proving that she was defending her cabin, the
two men raised their voices in a loud “Hurrah!”
to encourage her.
The Indians knew that the girl was alone in
the house, and anticipating an easy victory, they
made a rush to break open the door. Her bullet
gave one of them his death-wound, and warned
the others to be more careful. They drew od'
out of range to consult, and at this moment
Royce Laskins, who had hitherto been concealed
in the woods, came forward and joined his dusky
friends. The two pioneers in the larger cabin
could see him from one of the loop-holes, and
they yelled in contempt and scorn.
The large caoin was well provided with loop
holes, and so situated that no one could approach
it without risking the tire of its defenders. The
two rides of the pioneers could break any rush
by the Indians, and they decided to accomplish
by stratagem what they could not by force. After
a long consultation with the Indians, Laskins,
the renegade, tied a handkerchief to a stick and
stepped forward, calling out to the men that he
wanted to hold a talk with them.
They let him advance to within two hundred
feet of the door, and when they halted him, he
“I come to entreat you to surrender. The
Indians have declared war, and the only way to
save your lives is to surrender and not make
them any trouble.”
“Don’t talk to us of surrender, you bloody
renegade!” replied one of the men.
“I am no renegade !" called Laskins. “I am
a prisoner, and they have forced me to come
forward and speak to you ! As the friend of
every man, woman and child in the settlement,
I beg you to surrender. You will save your lives
by so doing. If you resist longer, the Indians
will murder every soul of you !”
“Is that all you want to say?” demanded one
of the men.
“ If you have any love for the innocent women
and children beneath that roof, you will heed
iny words !” replied Laskins.
A ride was thrust from one of the loop-holes,
and a voice shouted:
“We know you, you red imp! You brought
the Indians here, and your hands are red with
blood ! We will be burned alive in the cabin
before we will surrender!”
•HER BULLET GAVE ONE HIS DEATH-WOUND, AND WARNED THE OTHERS TO BE MOKE CAREFUL.
“I am sorry, and have done all I could to save
you.” replied Laskins. slowly retreating.
When he was out of ride range, he shook his
tist at the cabin and joined the Indians to devise
: some new plan.
The red-skins had no doubt of being able to
capture the girl, who was alone and unaided,
but it was decided to cajole her into surrender
ing, if it could lie done, before running any fur
ther risk. She was too far away to hear what
had passed at the other cabin, and while she
stood at one of the loop-holes, watching and
listening, Laskins appeared in sight, waving the
handkerchief as before. She spoke no word
and made no movement to stop him. and he ad
vanced to within forty feet of the door before
“Callie—dear Callie !" he called out: “ I want
to speak with you.”
She made no reply, and he called again:
“My dear girl, I have come to save yon,—
speak to me !"
“Royce Laskins, I know you for a bad man
and a renegade!” she replied; “and if yon re
main where you are one minute longer, I shall
lodge a bullet in your body !”
“For God’s sake, girl, don’t tire on your best
friend !” he cried. “I am a prisoner, and the
Indians have sent me forward to say that if you
will surrender, they will spare your life. There's
going to be a bloody war all along the river, and
there is no escape for any of us but to surren
“I shall not surrender!” she answered in a
“ You will if you have any love for your father,
or any care to save your own life!” he contin
ued, his voice and look appearing to indicate
genuine distress. “ Your father will come down
with the boat by to-morrow night, at least, and
all of them are sure to fall into the hands of the
Indians. The rest of the people have surren
dered. and will be well treated and allowed to
go down the river. You have killed one of the
Indians, and they are terribly enraged; but if
you surrender now, I know I can save you.”
His words and his look and tone melted her
drmness a little. She heard nothing from the
defenders of the other cabin, and she could not
say that they had not surrendered; and his words
about her father struck her with terrible force.
If slie could save her father by delivering her
self into the hands of the Indians, she would
not hesitate a moment.
“I am telling you God’s truth!” continued
the renegade. “If you surrender, I promise that
the Indians shall spare your life and treat you
gently, and not a hair of your father’s head
shall be harmed. You could not hold out more
than an hour, anyhow, as the savages would set
the cabin on tire.”
It almost seemed her duty to surrender, and
her hand was raised to the heavy bar across tlie
door, when her ear caught the quick reports of
two rities from the other cabin, meant to attract
her attention, and she faintly heard the words:
“Don’t surrender, Callie, don’t surrender!”
The renegade had deceived her. The people
were yet defending the other cabin, and they
knew that an effort was being made to secure
“Come, my good girl!” called Laskins; but
covering him with her ritie. she replied:
“Go back and tell your friends that I can hold
the cabin against the whole band !”
“ Look out, girl ! don’t anger them any more !
he shouted; but he saw a movement of the rifle
which caused him to beat a bast}’ retreat.
The red-skins had failed in their treacherous
plans, and as soon as the renegade rejoined
them, they set up a grand yell and opened lire on
both cabins. The settlers replied with prompt
ness and vigor, and crossing the house to another
loop-hole. Callie secured a target anil sent a bul
let through the shoulder of an Indian who was
skulking toward the cabin.
Old Carson's cabin was small but stout, and
unless tlie Indians could set it on fire, they
could not drive the girl out. The woods and
underbrush were only pistol-shot away, and by-
aml-by tlie whole band of savages deserted the
other cabin, and posting themselves around the
lower one. opened a steady tire at the loop-holes,
and kept up a yelling and screaming which
could be heard fora mile up and down the river.
They were only wasting ammunition to tire sit
the loop-holes, and after tlie fnsilade had been
maintained for a quarter of an hour, the girl
realized that the tire was being used to cover
some other plan. She was certain that they
would try to burn tlie house, and she erept
across the remit and listened at each loop-hole
to discover tlie point of attack.
By-and-by the fusilade slackened a little, and
the girl heard some one climbing up the logs at
the end of the house.
Carson’s cabin was lmilt of stout logs, and
they were not yet dry enough for the flames to
take hold of. The Indians could not burn it
unless they could set tire to the roof, composed
of long shingles, held in place by long poles
running clear across. The hot sun had drawn
the dampness from the shingles, and the flames
would take hold promptly.
Under cover of the fnsilade which kept the
girl from the loop-holes, an Indian crept for
ward and mounted to the roof of the cabin, hav
ing with him a bundle of leaves and limbs.
Although prevented from seeing, her keen ears
exposed their plot to her and warned her of the
Tbe cabin had no up-stairs, and the lower part
was in one large room. The rafters and rough
shingles were in plain sight, and when Callie
heard the Indian mounting to the roof, she
seized and lifted the table over to the corner, and
standing upon it. she could touch tlie shingles
with the muzzle of her ritie. Although the fusil
ade still continued, and the. Indians kept up a
great whooping and yelling in order to draw her
attention, she gave no heed to anything but what
was going on above her.
As soon as the Indian reached the roof, he
crawled carefully over the poles until he was
near the,center, and then he made ready to light
a fire. Callie moved the table again, and she |
could see the shingles give and shake, and hear ;
tlie red-skin striking His flint. With the muzzle i
of the ritie not a foot below tbe shingles, she
pulled the trigger, and the bulletconid not have
been better sent. It struck the Indian under
the chin and passed up into his head. With an
awful yell of surprise and pain, he rose up, fell
backward, and his body struck the ground with
a heavy thud.
The Indians at once ceased their tire. The
reports of their rities had drowned the discharge
of Callie’s weapon, but they quickly understood
what had happened, and their cries of rage made
the poor girl’s face grow whiter. Looking from
one of the loop-holes, she saw the body of the I
dead Indian lying doubled up on tbe ground,
the blood streaming from mouth and ears.
After the one grand yell, the Indians were so i
quiet that Callie caught no further sound. The i
defenders of the other cabin seemed to under
stand from the yells that the girl had sent an
other red-skin to the happy hunting-grounds,
and a shout reached her:
“Good for you. brave girl! Don't surren
Althon r h an almost constant battle had been
maintaine.! the Indians had secured no advan
tage beyond the murder of two women and a
child. In return, Callie had killed two Indians
and wounded a third, and the men in the other
cabin lia l killed one and wounded two. As
there came a period of deepest silence, the brave
defenders hoped that the Indians had become
discouraged and raised the siege.
The red-skins had no such thought. That
two men should beat them off of one cabin, and
; a mere girl hold them away from the other, en
raged the savages until they came near raising
the tomahawk on each other.
Each cabin was so well constructed to stand a
siege, and the defenders were so determined,
that it was seen to be a waste of life and ammu
nition to make any further attack by daylight.
The Indians therefore scattered, and concealing
themselves in clumps of bushes and behind logs,
where they could watch the cabins, they pre
pared to wait for the coming of night.
The deep and long-continued silence did not
deceive either Callie or the men into venturing
■ out. When an hour had passed without sign or
sound to prove the lurking presence of the In-
i dians, the men. fearing that tlie girl would leave
her shelter and attempt to reach them, called
i out and warned her against such a step. She
fired her ritie as a signal that she understood,
and then all was quiet again for hours.
The girl had no doubt that the Indians would
renew the attack under cover of darkness, and
she knew that the house would he burned over
her head before morning. And again, her father
and the men would be down with tlie flat-boat
within thirty hours, at the farthest: and whether
she succeeded in holding the cabin or was cap
tured. the Indians would be certain to plan the
capture or murder of the bout's crew. She, too,
was waiting for darkness, and the Indians were
to be cheated of their prey.
Boatmen and hunters had often wondered
why Carson constructed his cabin where lie did.
instead of going higher up the blurt', but lie had
an object. It was but forty feet from bis cabin
to the river bank, and the ground was covered
with brush and briars, as was also the bank.
Soon after moving in, and so secretly that no
one but his daughter even suspected it. he dug
a rude cellar under the house, and from it a nar
row passage leading to the bank of the river.
“We may never want to use it." he said to her
in explanation; “but Indian nature is treacher
ous. and we may be cooped up here some day,
with a hundred red devils yelling and scream
ing for our blood.”
The mouth of the passage was so well hidden
that it had never been discovered, and the time
bad now come wliu h tlie old man had predicted.
Callie made up her mind that when night closed
in she would desert the cabin. Reaching the
liank of the river, if not discovered she would
make her way up the stream for several miles
and then watch and wait to give the flat-boat
1'ntil nearly five o'clock in the afternoon there
was no sign of the lurking Indians. Then the
band suddenly opened up a sharp fusilade, and
set up a loud yelling, and for a quarter of an
hour one would have thought them engaged in a
The firing finally ceased, and Callie looked
through the loop-hole and saw Laskins the ren
egade again approaching, waving a handker
chief over his head to attract attention. She
allowed him to come within a few feet of the
door, and as he saw the muzzle of her ritie
thrust out, he halted anil said:
“Callie, the Indians have captured the flat-
boat and all the men ! Your father is out here
in the woods, and tlie Indians have sent me to
say that if you do not surrender, they will burn
him at the stake ! ”
Her heart beat faster at his words, though she
knew that lie was deceiving her. She had heard
no tiring up the river, no yells of victory, and
she was certain that it was a new scheme to
secure her capture.
“I am telling yon God's truth!" continued
Laskins, as she made no reply. ’It you have
any love for your father, if you want to avert an
awful punishment, if you respect me, op-n the
door and come out ! They will not give yon
another chance. When night conn s they will
burn the cabin from over your head and force
you out. and I shudder to think of your fate !”
She leveled the ritie at his head, took swift
aim and fired, and as the sharp report rang out
In fi ll to the ground. She thought she had
killed him, but her aim had not been true. The
bullet had raked along his scalp, stunning him
for a moment. While she was reloading her
rifle lie crawled away, and as lie rejoined tlie
Indians their yells were fearful. The defenders
of the other cabin raised a cheer to encourage
the girl, and deep silence fell upon the clearing
The two men. defending all that was dear to
them, made such preparations for the night as
they could when the sun began to sink beneath
the trees. Tlieir only hope was in being able
to beat oft' tbe savages until help should come
from some quarter to relieve them.
Just before sun-down Callie raised the flooring
and descended into the cellar. Sin- had every
hope of making a safe retreat through the pas
sage. and knowing that the Indians would have
possession of the cabin before morning sin de
termined to leave no plunder for them. Replac
ing the floor, she proceeded to destroy whatever
the red-skins wdulil regard as worth taking from
the cabin. The bedding and a few other articles
were tossed into the cellar, to be dragged into
the passage behind her. and when darkness fell
upon the clearing she was ready to go.
Watching from one of the loop-holes, slie saw
the lust lingering ray of daylight swallowed up
in the dusky shadows, and prayed God that she
might escape her enemies.
Old C'arson and his companions made all haste
to accomplish their errand, feeling ns if delay
was dangerous. During the first day's tramp,
they met several Indians along the river, and
the sulky demeanor of the red-skins went to
show that some deviltry was on foot.
“I can’t make out what ails 'em.” said the old
man: “and I feel as if we can’t get the boat and
get back to the Landing any too soon.”
They had been told that a trader named Tim-
berlake, at a post then called Scottsville, but
afterwards swept out of existence by the Indians,
had a boat to sell, and they let nothing de
tain them on their journey through the woods.
At the end of the second day they were at the
trader's, and he was paid his price, and the boat
changed hands. One day was consumed in
making repairs, and tlie men experienced a feel
ing of relief ns the boat swung into the current.
The trader, who had long resided on the fron
tier. had of late noticed a marked change in tlie
demeanor of the red-skins, and he agreed with
old Carson that there was some deviltry on foot,
though he was not prepared to believe that the
Indians would precipitate a war without some
“They'll sulk around for awhile and then,
when they find that we don't -are whether they
are mad or pleased, they'll con. e around as pleas
ant as lambs,” said the trader, as the boat left
Three days afterward, his mangled body was
floating with the current, and the flames were
licking up his trading-post.
There was a good depth of water in the river,
and there being four men to manage tlie boat, it
would have been allowed to drift with the cur
rent but for the impatience of the crew. All felt
as if every moment's time was of greatest value,
and they used poles whenever they could to
hasten the speed of the boat. The voyage down
would consume three days at best, taking the
men six days away from the Landing.
During the day one of the men was constantly
on the alert, and the boat was kept in tin- middle
of the stream. Ordinarily the navigator would
have sighted an Indian canoe once an hour all
day long, but Carson and liis men failed to catch
sight of one. They floated past three spots from
which the red-skins had hastily removed their
villages, and all signs went to show that trouble
was at hand. Just before sun-down an Indian
was discovered under a tree on tlie bank, but
although old Carson saluted him in friendly
terms and ottered him a horn of powder, the
Indian refused to speak.
Night finally settled down on the river, and
the men made such preparations as they could
to resist a night attack. The setting poles were
laid aside for rifles:and the boat was allowed to
float with the current, while the men listened
and watched. The darkness and the mist pre
vented them from seeing the shore, and the fear
of striking a snag or of running aground would
of itself have kept every one anxious and watch
Once in awhile the sudden, solemn hooting of
an owl would break into the mysterious quiet
ness and alarm the men, and again a wild (luck
would rise from under the bow of the boat and
cry out as it rose in the darkness. The long
hours dragged away, and when morning came it
seemed to the watchers as if they had lived a
week in the single night. Nearly half the voy
age had been accomplished, and there was hope
that they would reach the Landing without hav
ing had any trouble.
The day was a pleasant one, but, as on the
previous one, the Indians kept themselves hid
den from sight. While old Carson minded the
sweep, rifle at hand, the other three used the
poles, and the boat went ahead at good speed all
the forenoon. At noon, without the least warn
ing, the sharp crack ol a rifle was heard from the
Ohio shore, and the bark flew from the sel
pole in the hands of the man at the bow. Splintt