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THE FLOWERS WlttUM VOL. I. 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/ NO. I(i [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; OR, FLAT-BOAT, liIYKit AM) KIFLE. IIY H. UI AI). CHAPTER IV. 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 said: “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 halting. “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 der !” “I shall not surrender!” she answered in a determined tone. “ 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 her surrender. “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. CHARTER V. 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 danger. 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 der !” 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 warning. 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 hand-to-hand encounter. 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 again. 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 weighty cause. “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 the bank. 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 ful. 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