Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, vol 5 | Page 8

she saw who had come to her. Do not fear," he said. "The man
who struck you meant to sell your home to strangers"--and he laid the

deed of sale before her, but he will never play you false or lay hands on
you again. Look!" He tossed the dripping scalp upon the paper. "Now I
leave you forever. I cannot take you back among my people, who do
not know deceit like yours, nor could I ever love you as I did at first."
Turning, without other farewell he went out at the door. When this gift
of Accabee land was sold--for the woman could no longer bear to live
on it, but went to a northern city--a handsome house was built by the
new owner, who added game preserves and pleasure grounds to the
estate, but it was "haunted by a grief." Illness and ill luck followed the
purchase, and the house fell into ruin.

TOCCOA FALLS
Early in the days of the white occupation of Georgia a cabin stood not
far from the Falls of Toccoa (the Beautiful). Its only occupant was a
feeble woman, who found it ill work to get food enough from the wild
fruits and scanty clearing near the house, and she had nigh forgotten the
taste of meat; for her two sons, who were her pride no less than her
support, had been killed by savages. She often said that she would
gladly die if she could harm the red men back, in return for her
suffering--which was not Christian doctrine, but was natural. She was
brooding at her fire, one winter evening, in wonder as to how one so
weak and old as she could be revenged, when her door was flung open
and a number of red men filled her cabin. She hardly changed
countenance. She did not rise. "You may take my life," she said, "for it
is useless, now that you have robbed it of all that made it worth living."
"Hush!" said the chief. "What does the warrior want with the scalps of
women? We war on your men because they kill our game and steal our
land."
"Is it possible that you come to our homes except to kill?"
"We are strangers and have lost our way. You must guide us to the foot
of Toccoa and lead us to our friends."
"I lead you? Never!"
The chief raised his axe, but the woman did not flinch. There was a
pause, in which the iron still hung menacing. Suddenly the dame
looked up and said, "If you promise to protect me, I will lead you."
The promise was given and the band set forth, the aged guide in
advance, bending against the storm and clasping her poor rags about

her. In the darkest part of the wood, where the roaring of wind and
groaning of branches seemed the louder for the booming of waters, she
cautioned the band to keep in single file, but to make haste, for the way
was far and the gloom was thickening. Bending their heads against the
wind they pressed forward, she in advance. Suddenly, yet stealthily, she
sprang aside and crouched beneath a tree that grew at the very brink of
the fall. The Indians came on, following blindly, and in an instant she
descried the leader as he went whirling over the edge, and one after
another the party followed. When the last had gone to his death she
arose to her feet with a laugh of triumph. "Now I, too, can die!" she
cried. So saying, she fell forward into the grayness of space.

TWO LIVES FOR ONE
The place of Macon, Georgia, in the early part of this century was
marked only by an inn. One of its guests was a man who had stopped
there on the way to Alabama, where he had bought land. The girl who
was, to be his wife was to follow in a few days. In the morning when he
paid his reckoning he produced a well-filled pocket-book, and he did
not see the significant look that passed between two rough
black-bearded fellows who had also spent the night there, and who,
when he set forth, mounted their horses and offered to keep him
company. As they rode through the deserted village of Chilicte one of
the twain engaged the traveller in talk while the other, falling a little
behind, dealt him a blow with a loaded whip that unseated him.
Divining their purpose, and lacking weapons for his own defence, he
begged for mercy, and asked to be allowed to return to his bride to be,
but the robbers had already made themselves liable to penalty, and two
knife-thrusts in the breast silenced his appeals. The money was secured,
the