Identifier: talkingleavesind00stod (find matches)
Title: The talking leaves : an Indian story
Year: 1882 (1880s)
Authors: Stoddard, William Osborn, 1835-1925
Subjects: Indians of North America Children Conduct of life Friendship Hunting Outdoor life Fathers and daughters Reading Apache Indians
Publisher: New York : Harper & Brothers
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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s away, and his na-tion was at peace with them for the time; but here werethree of the hated race standing in the road to cut off hisretreat and that of his sisters. Three tall, brawny, evil-looking pale-faces, with rifles intheir hands, and the foremost of them was levelling his gunstraight at Red Wolf, and shouting, Surrender, you red-skinned coyote, or Ill put a pill into ye. An Indian brave, like the son of Many Bears, might deemit an honor to be named after the large, dangerous wolfhe had killed in single fight with only his knife, but to becalled a coyote, a miserable prairie wolf, jackal, was a bitterinsult, and that was what it was meant for. He had left hiscarbine in the camp, but his long lance was in his hand, andhis knife and revolver were in his belt. What could one young brave do against three such pow-erful and well-armed white men ? Ni-ha-be! exclaimed Rita. I am an Apache girl! I can fight! You are a pale-face ! Rita was stung to her very heart by her sisters scornful
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The Talking Leaves. 119 reply, for she had also brought her bow and arrows. Theynever stirred from camp without them, and squaws werenot permitted to carry fire-arms. Ni-ha-be had an arrow already on the string, and Eita fol-lowed her example like a flash. Ked Wolf is a warrior. He is not a coyote. He willshow the pale-faces— Twang! The sound of Ni-ha-bes bow-string cut Red Wolfshaughty reply in two in the middle, and it was well for theminer Bill that he was quick in dodging. As it was, hedropped his rifle, for there was an arrow through his rightarm above the elbow, and Ni-ha-be was fitting another. Twang! But the man at whom Rita aimed her arrow was an oldIndian fighter, and he parried it easily. Red Wolf, your pistol! Boys, exclaimed Bill, theyre a lot of young wild-cats!Well jest have to shoot. Pick off the redskin, quick, andknock over the two girls before they make a hole into ye. The two parties were hardly twenty yards apart, and allthis had happened in a few seconds; but j

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