The Border Heroine.

Cromwell Argus, Volume I, Issue 19, 23 March 1870, Page 7

The Border Heroine.

A TALE Of EARLY LIFE IN ARKANSAS. Some years ago, before the State of Arkansas was so densely populated as it now is, and when the mails from Little Rock to the eastern borders were carried on horseback, there lived a few miles above Horsehead a stout pioneer named Jacob Bumap, His wife Fißy, and one child, nine years old, made up 1 his family. His chief business was bunting, and his unerring rifle never failed to supply his board, and something over. His nearest neighbor was fifteen miles off, so he was little troubled with prying visitors. I* was in the early spring that Jacob started down the river with a boat-load of furs and skins. He left Polly in charge of the premises; and he left with her, too, flight rifle and a brace of pistols. She knew how to use the rifle, for never was elm happier than when her husband patted her on the shoulder and said—“ Nobly done, Polly, my dear ; I could not have made a better shot myself.” And he had occasion to say this with truth, too. Jacob Burnap had been gone four days, when, towards evening, a horseman rode up to the huhter’s door. He was a small, muscular man, some forty years of age, and seemed inured to all hardships. As he sprang from his saddle, Polly made her appearance. “ Ah, Polly ! —once more here," said the new-comer, as he drew a well tilled pair of saddle-bags from the back of his fatigued beast. “ Yes, and I’m glad to see you. Jacob has been gone four days, and time is getting heavy.” “Jacob gone ! —where 1” “ Down the river with a load of furs.” “ Oh, res. Well, you shall have the company of Lant Morton for one night at least: so for the next twelve hours you’ll be safe.” “ Oh, I feel quite safe,” returned Polly, i quickly—“ only a little lonesome.” Thus speaking, Morton threw his saddlebags into the cabin, and led his hoise round to a low shed, where he made the animal fast and fed him. After this he returned to the dwelling and entered, and was soon discussing the j events of the time over an ample supper. His hostess had told him all that bad transpired in the neighborhood since his last visit, and the visitor gave her all the nows of the Eastern Valle}'. Lant Morton bad been mail-carrier upon that route for I several years, and not once had he passed to and fro without spending a night at Jacob Bitmap’s. In fact, he was about the only regular visitor at the hunter’s cabin ; and although the intervals between bis visits were long, yet he seemed almost a fixture to the place. Polly Burnap. just in the bloom of womanhood, knew his gentle, generous, and noble character ; so ■site felt perfectly free and at borne in his presence. . “ Is it not known on the route that your load is valuable]’’ asked Polly. “ 1 think not—though it may be. Still, • I inn well armed, and I fancy it would be a tough job for any one to tackle old Morton.” “ A man was robbed on the creek a few days ago.” “ And the robbers have fled,” added Morton carelessly, as he threw his mail bags after him. Morton went to bed at nine o’clock, as he was tired from his long ride. Polly had work to do, having neglected it while bilking to her guest; so when she had seen him safe at rest, she drew her basket to a little table where the candle was, and went to work upon some clothing for her child, who was soundly sleeping in a corner. ) The old German clock upon the wall, !with its great weight and wind strings all exposed, had struck ten ere Polly rose from her work. She had just pushed the basket beneath the table when the front door .opened and two men entered. They were i|in their stockings, their shoes having been |left outside, “ Hush !” uttered the foremost intruder’. “ Speak but one word above a whisper, and you die in a moment!” Polly recovered from her quick terror, anu looked up. She saw two stout, wicked, ugly looking men, one of whom held a cocked pistol towards her. With a quickness of perception natural to her, she knew the pistol would not be fired if she held her peace, as that would make more noise than she could make; and farther, she recognised in the foremost a notorious villain, who bore the name of Dick Gallus. had never seen him before ; but the minute description her husband had given of the man, led her to know him and positively, too, for one big scar on the left cheek was mark enough. “ What do you want ]” asked Polly, without betraying, the least fear. “We have come to see the mail carrier,” one replied in a hoarse whisper ; “ where is he] Don’t speak too loud.” “He is long since asleep. Would it not Ido as well to see him in the morning 1 We can find you a room and lodging.” The fair hostess had said this for the purpose of gaining time. She knew very We . these men had come to rob the oarrieV, and was equally sure they would murder him if they could, and would in ftll probability put her out of the way as

well. They had evidently learnt the valuable load lie carried, and meant to carry it in his stead. “ Never mind his being asleep. Show ns where he is at once,” roughly replied Galina in answer to Tolly’s last remark. “ But I can call him, good sirs,” reasoned the woman, calmly, though there was alarm : in hex soul. “ Call him ?—call!” growled the ruffian, ■ with a fierce oath. “ You call him, ami | you will be called to another world ! Quick ! —show us the way." , The mild eye that could aim n bullet at , the forest beast did not even betray the , thoughts of the woman's soul, nor did a , look betray her meaning. She was very pale, but did not tremble. “This Way, sits,” she whispered. And as she spoke she turned towards a side-door. She did not open it till both '• were close behind her. < “ Don’t yon hear him breath V “ Yes,” returned both villains. And they did hear a breathing, but it i was of a child close at hand. . As they thus answered her, she throw , the door open—it opened inward. The , men saw a dark void, but they pressed j forward. In an instant Polly Buruap leapt back. Callus was in front. With j all her power, the noble woman threw ( herself against the rear man, and the next < moment both the robbers lay sprawling on , the cellar bottom. This had been the door opening to the , deep excavation, and the only means of , egress was by a perpendicular ladder. , Could this have been moved, Polly would : have pulled it up immediately ; but it was spiked to its place, and she must let it re- ( main. To close the door would be useless, , for she had not ready menus to fasten it. \ fcio she did what she iiad resolved upon from the first; she sprang to the fire-place, and caught the trusty rifle, and cocking it, she moved towards the open door. She heard the curses of the villains as they reached the ladder j and she soon, knew that one of them had found it. “ Back !” she cried, as she saw a head above the threshold. The caudle upon the table threw hut! ' a dim light upon the spot; but it was sufficient. She saw the robber raise a pistol. She had a husband—u child—and had set herself to save the carrier. With these thoughts dashing through her mind she pulled the trigger. ’ A sharp report went ringing through the house, and its echo was a deep groan from the cellar bottom. Ere the second robber could show himself, Morton came rushing into the room with a pistol in each hand. “ What is it i” he cried. “There—there!” gasped Polly, pointing to the doorway, where a savage-look-ing face had just presented itself. Pant Moiton had been too much used to danger to waste time in conjecture, and immediately shot the villain dead, who fell with a heavy sound upon the floor of the cellar. “Are there any morel” he asked, cocking his pistol. “ And so you meant to save me 1” re-, marked the carrier, as Polly hesitated. “ Yes, yes—l did. Yes, that was it.” And as soon us the noble woman bad sufficiently recovered, she told him the whole story. Morton expressed his thoughts as best he could ; but, after all, the moisture of his light eye, the changing of his countenace, and the very lack of language, told her more than words could have done. After due deliberation, it was decided that the bodies should remain there until morning. So the cellar door was shot, thej front door bolted, and they prepared to retire ; but for the rest of the night MfiVtoni made his bed upon the floor of the large room. In the morning, just as the carrier was dressed, there was a rap at the door, accompanied by a voice he knew full well. He hastened to open the door, and gave entrance to Jacob Burnap. The hunter had met a party of traders at Lewisburg, and disposed of all his skins to them, thus finishing his journey six days earlier than he had anticipated. Polly was soon upon her husband’s bosom ; and when he had told them his own story, Morton gave him the adventure. Jacob was at first incredulous ; but when he had seen the bodies he was satisfied. “ Polly, my jewel,” he said, placing his arm around her neck, “lam proud of you. I love you more and more, for every day I find more to love." And then, turning to Morton, he added, “ What do you think of , such a wife 1" “Ah 1” returned the guest with deep , feeling, “if poor Lant Morton had such a wife, lie wouldn’t be a mail carrier." ' When Morton left, he was directed to > stop at the first settlement, and state to the officers what had happened; and he i promised to do so. He once more blessed J the brave woman who saved his life, and then set out. Late in the afternoon, two 3 officers arrived at the cabin j and when t they were shown the dead bodies, at once 3 proceeded to remove them. And ere a 1 week had passed, the whole settlement i blessed the Border Heroine for the work s she had done.