14

CODY'S CORRAL OR THE SCOUTS AND THE SIOUX.

By "BECKSIN SAM."

A mount0inclosed Valley, close sprinkled with fair flowers,

Asif a shattered rainbow had fallen there in showers;

Bright-plumaged birds were warbling their songs among the trees,

Or fluttering their tiny wings win the cooling western breeze,

The cottonwoods, by mountain's base, on every side high tower,

And the dreamy haze in silence marks the sleepy noontide hour.

East, south, and north, to meet the clouds the lofty mounts arise,

Guarding this little valley--a wild Western Paradise.

Pure and untrampled as it looks this lovely flower-strewn sod--

One scarce would think that e'er, by man, had such a sward been trod;

But yonder, see those wild mustangs by lariat held in check,

Tearing up the fairest flora, which fairies might bedeck:

And, near a campfire's smoke, we see men standing all around--

Tis strange, for from them has not come a single word or sound.

Standing by cottonwood, with arms close-folded on his breast,

Garing with his eagle eyes up to the mountain's crest,

Tail and commanding is his form, and graceful in his mien;

As fair in face, as noble, has seldom here been seen.

A score or more of frontiersmen recline upon the ground,

But starting soon upon their feet, by sudden snort and hound!

A horse has sure been frightened by strange scent on the breeze,

And glances now by all are cast beneath the towering trees.

A quiet sign their leader gives, and mustangs are now are brought;

And, by swift-circling lasso, a loose one fast is caught.

Then thundering round the mountain's dark adamantine side.

A hundred hideous, painted, and fierce Sioux warriors ride;

While, from their throats, the well-known and horrible death-knell

The wild blood-curdling war-whoop, and the fierce and fiendish yell,

Strikes the ears of all, now ready to fight, and even to die.

In the mount-inclosed valley, beneath that blood-red sky I

Now rings throughout the open, on all sides clear and shrill.

The dreaded battle-cry of him whom men call Buffalo Bill!

On, like a whirlwind, then dash--the brave scouts of the plains,

Their rifle-barrels soft-carest by mustang's flying manes.

On, like an avalanche, they sweep through the fall prairie grass;

Down, fast upon them, swooping, the dread and savage mass!

Wild yells of fierce bravado crime and taints of deep despair;

While through the battle-smoke there flaunts each feathered tuff of hair,

And loudly rings the war-cry of fearless Buffalo Bill;

And loudly rings the savage yells, which make the blood run chill!

The gurgling death cry mingles with the mustang's shrillest scream

And the sound of dull and sodden falls and bowie's brightest gleam.

At length there slowly rises the smoke from heaps of slain.

Whose wild war-cries will never more ring on the air again.

Then, painting and bespattered from the showers of foam and blood,

The scouts have once more halted 'neath the shady cottonwood.

In haste, they are re-loading, and preparing for a sally,

While the scattered foe, now desperate, are yelling the valley.

Again are heard revolvers, with their rattling, sharp report;

Again the scouts are seen to charge down on that wild cohort

Sioux fall around, like dead reeds, when fiercest northern blow,

And rapid sink in the death before there hated pale-face foe!

Sad, smothered now is music from the mountain's rippling rill.

But wild hurrahs instead are heard from our brave Buffalo Bill,

Who, through the thickest carnage charged ever in the van,

And cheered faint hearts around him, since first, the fight began

Deeply demoralized, the Sioux fly fast with bated breath.

And glances cast of terror along that vale of death;

While the victors quickly dismounted and looking all around.

On their dead and mangled enemies, whose courses stewed the ground

"I had sworn I would avenge them"--were the words of Buffalo Bill--

"The mothers and their infants they slew at Medicine Hill,

Our work is done--done nobly--I looked for that from you;

Boys, when a cause is just, you need but stand firm and true,

--Bradie's Weekly

A stirring life picture of a battle between the whites and Indians, showing the facts a mode of warfare of each, will be given by the skilled members of both races in "BUFFALO BILL" representation of scenes in the Wild West.

THE PAWNEES ASTONISHED.

W. F. CODY, although having established his right to the title of "BUFFALO BILL" for years before, had not had the opportunity to convince the Pawnees of the justice of the claim previous to the time of the following incident. A short will previously a band of marauding red-skin renegades from that nation, while on a stealing excursion near Ellsworth, had occasion to regret their temerity, and cause to remember him to the extent of three killed, which fact for a time.

CODY'S CORRAL OR THE SCOUTS AND THE SIOUX.

By "BECKSIN SAM."

A mount0inclosed Valley, close sprinkled with fair flowers,

Asif a shattered rainbow had fallen there in showers;

Bright-plumaged birds were warbling their songs among the trees,

Or fluttering their tiny wings win the cooling western breeze,

The cottonwoods, by mountain's base, on every side high tower,

And the dreamy haze in silence marks the sleepy noontide hour.

East, south, and north, to meet the clouds the lofty mounts arise,

Guarding this little valley--a wild Western Paradise.

Pure and untrampled as it looks this lovely flower-strewn sod--

One scarce would think that e'er, by man, had such a sward been trod;

But yonder, see those wild mustangs by lariat held in check,

Tearing up the fairest flora, which fairies might bedeck:

And, near a campfire's smoke, we see men standing all around--

Tis strange, for from them has not come a single word or sound.

Standing by cottonwood, with arms close-folded on his breast,

Garing with his eagle eyes up to the mountain's crest,

Tail and commanding is his form, and graceful in his mien;

As fair in face, as noble, has seldom here been seen.

A score or more of frontiersmen recline upon the ground,

But starting soon upon their feet, by sudden snort and hound!

A horse has sure been frightened by strange scent on the breeze,

And glances now by all are cast beneath the towering trees.

A quiet sign their leader gives, and mustangs are now are brought;

And, by swift-circling lasso, a loose one fast is caught.

Then thundering round the mountain's dark adamantine side.

A hundred hideous, painted, and fierce Sioux warriors ride;

While, from their throats, the well-known and horrible death-knell

The wild blood-curdling war-whoop, and the fierce and fiendish yell,

Strikes the ears of all, now ready to fight, and even to die.

In the mount-inclosed valley, beneath that blood-red sky I

Now rings throughout the open, on all sides clear and shrill.

The dreaded battle-cry of him whom men call Buffalo Bill!

On, like a whirlwind, then dash--the brave scouts of the plains,

Their rifle-barrels soft-carest by mustang's flying manes.

On, like an avalanche, they sweep through the fall prairie grass;

Down, fast upon them, swooping, the dread and savage mass!

Wild yells of fierce bravado crime and taints of deep despair;

While through the battle-smoke there flaunts each feathered tuff of hair,

And loudly rings the war-cry of fearless Buffalo Bill;

And loudly rings the savage yells, which make the blood run chill!

The gurgling death cry mingles with the mustang's shrillest scream

And the sound of dull and sodden falls and bowie's brightest gleam.

At length there slowly rises the smoke from heaps of slain.

Whose wild war-cries will never more ring on the air again.

Then, painting and bespattered from the showers of foam and blood,

The scouts have once more halted 'neath the shady cottonwood.

In haste, they are re-loading, and preparing for a sally,

While the scattered foe, now desperate, are yelling the valley.

Again are heard revolvers, with their rattling, sharp report;

Again the scouts are seen to charge down on that wild cohort

Sioux fall around, like dead reeds, when fiercest northern blow,

And rapid sink in the death before there hated pale-face foe!

Sad, smothered now is music from the mountain's rippling rill.

But wild hurrahs instead are heard from our brave Buffalo Bill,

Who, through the thickest carnage charged ever in the van,

And cheered faint hearts around him, since first, the fight began

Deeply demoralized, the Sioux fly fast with bated breath.

And glances cast of terror along that vale of death;

While the victors quickly dismounted and looking all around.

On their dead and mangled enemies, whose courses stewed the ground

"I had sworn I would avenge them"--were the words of Buffalo Bill--

"The mothers and their infants they slew at Medicine Hill,

Our work is done--done nobly--I looked for that from you;

Boys, when a cause is just, you need but stand firm and true,

--Bradie's Weekly

A stirring life picture of a battle between the whites and Indians, showing the facts a mode of warfare of each, will be given by the skilled members of both races in "BUFFALO BILL" representation of scenes in the Wild West.

THE PAWNEES ASTONISHED.

W. F. CODY, although having established his right to the title of "BUFFALO BILL" for years before, had not had the opportunity to convince the Pawnees of the justice of the claim previous to the time of the following incident. A short will previously a band of marauding red-skin renegades from that nation, while on a stealing excursion near Ellsworth, had occasion to regret their temerity, and cause to remember him to the extent of three killed, which fact for a time.