A SAD DOMESTIC HISTORY. 239 



road, on its way to the Rocky Mountains, would 

 shortly wind its way up the Solomon Valley, bring- 

 ing civilization to that whole region, and daily mails 

 within a few miles of their doors. 



The second year of prosperity had nearly ended, 

 when one morning a man from the settlements above 

 dashed rapidly past Mr. Sydney's house, turning in 

 his saddle to cry that the Cheyennes had been mur- 

 dering people up the river, and were now sweeping 

 on close behind him. The message of horror was 

 scarcely ended when the dusky cloud appeared in 

 sight, rioting in its tempest of death down the valley. 

 Midway between home and the house of her daughter, 

 Mrs. Sydney was overtaken by the yelling demons. 

 In vain the agonized husband pressed forward to the 

 rescue, firing rapidly with his carbine. She was 

 killed before his eyes, but not scalped, the Indians 

 evidently considering delay dangerous. 



It is a fact that speaks volumes in illustration of 

 the mingled ferocity and cowardice that characterize 

 the wild Indians of to-day that, in all that terrible 

 Solomon massacre, not a single armed man who used 

 his weapon was harmed, nor was one house attacked. 

 The victims were composed entirely of the sur- 

 prised and the defenseless, overtaken at their work 

 and on the roads. 



Passing the dead body of the mother, the Chey- 

 ennes, on their wiry ponies, swept onward, like de- 

 mon centaurs, toward the home of the daughter. Sitr 

 ting by our fire at evening, with that dreary, fixed 

 look which one never forgets who has once seen it, 



the young woman told us the story of her childless 

 13 



