Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 115: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Homesteaders take their ponies and ride up and down the river The white man with hair on his face has run away. He is very strong in his hands. “Swift Walker, one of Wapasha’s young men, tried to stop him. You saw what he did to Swift Walker’s throat. He must be found and brought back. Bring him back alive if he doesn’t fight too hard. Bring him back dead if he makes a hard fight.” He glided from the room without again glancing at the prisoners. A dozen Indians outside the door, being sober enough to scout intelligently, scattered on the run to search the outskirts of the village, or to mount and scour the river road in both di- rections. But by the time the pursuit was commenced the killer was two miles away, riding up the river on a murdered settler’s horse. es) priated proved to be an excellent one, superior in speed and stamina to the Indian pony. The way was dark, but the.horse kept to the road at a smash- ing gallop, the rider making but little effort to guide him. Three times inside the first few miles Mose was challenged in the In- dian tongue by a blurred form. One mounted brave started to pursue him, but gave it up either from disinclination or be- cause his pony was no match for the horse. At the end of ten miles Mose reined in at a walk, his mount well winded. As he was passing by a thick growth on his right a pony darted from the river bank and ranged alongside. The rider leaned from his sad- dle and in the Santee dialect asked— “Did they kill all the whites at the Red- wood agency?” Shanty Mose swept a muscular arm around the copper neck and witha heave of his powerful shoulders dragged the man across his horse, caught and held him by the throat for half a minute. Then, hurling the inanimate figure clear of the road, he shifted to the pony’s back and kicked him into a gallop. The horse followed for some distance. The race against time was being renewed at the top of the pony’s speed. It lacked an hour of midnight when Mose dismounted from the exhausted animal and ran toward the light showing in the agency office. The door was open, and several Indians were gathered ashort distance from it, tell- THE horse Shanty Mose had appro- 93 ing one another in whispers what they had heard about the killings down the river Mose broke through the group and entered the office. Galbraith at that moment was being sought by messengers from St. Peter, where he had slept Sunday night before renewing his journey to Fort Snelling. News of the massacre reached St. Peter about the time Shanty Mose escaped from the Indian village. But news of the kill- ings had been slow in creeping up the river to the upper agency. Those Indians who knew about it remained silent. The few whites at and around the agency were ignorant of what had happened. When Shanty Mose made his precipitate entrance one of Galbraith’s subordinates was asleep with his head resting on a table. Before him was a bottle of whisky. With their chairs tipped back against the wall . were the Pollacker boys, their hired man Phil White and Abner Page. “What the !’? exclaimed Ed Pol- lacker, removing his pipe and staring in sur- prize at the newcomer. Recognizing him, he grinned and greeted: “Tf it ain’t our little truthful Mose! Have a drink, old logger.” Before any of the others could speak Mose was sharply announcing: “Devil’s been well served this day. In- juns burned and looted the lower agency.” “You're crazy,” growled Bert Pollacker. “Keep your lies to the north woods.”’ “You're a fool, Bert Pollacker,”’ hotly re- plied Mose. “I’ve come desperate hard to warn the folks up here.”’ “‘You mean some of the Sioux got drunk and made a fuss,” sneered Page. Yet he was the only one of the four to al- low his chair to rest squarely on its four legs. And he put up his pipe. “Drunk and hooted a bit,” said Bert. ‘*Take your coat off and cool down, Mose.” “TY know what I’m talking about,” de- clared Mose, lowering his voice. ‘“They’ll be here before morning. They began killing yesterday in the Big Woods. Mad Martha, Papa Baptiste and I saw them murder Jones the trader, Howard Baker, a Wisconsin homesteader and a woman. They killed another woman, a young one, at the Jones place. I was caught while trying to carry the word to the lower agency. I tell you they burned and killed. I escaped from one of their villages. “T tell you they’ve got Murray Fall a Comiclbook (© 5}