10
THE BATTALION.
sailor band was playing soft music; the waves beat time
against the sides of the ship; and the fish darting up o ut of
the water seemed as though they wished to be witnesses of
this glorious scene. The murmuring of the peaceful waves,
the song of the sweet breezes, mingled with the soft rolling
thunder in the north-east, and the strains of music all
combined to ravish the ear, even as the sunset delighted the
eye.
In sinking below the horizon the sun had left his foot-
prints of blue, fringed with gold. In a short time they
blended into one and made a path of the deepest red; then
gradually died away, leaving nothing but the moon above to
cast its pale light down upon us.
The shin began going faster and faster until behind was
nothing but a singing mass of white foam. The moon had
gone behind a cloud and we sailed out into darkness.
FOR. A COWBOY’S SCALP.
w.
. . . J. V
One evening last summer, when a crowd of us pleasure
seeking people were gathered together on the front porch of
a hotel in Colorado, we began to talk abont Indians, and the
adventures that had happened in that part of the country.
An old man in our group, who had heretofore taken no
interest in our discussion, spoke up and said, “Come to talk
about Indians, I can tell you a little adventure I had with