Knoxville journal. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1874-1986, 1874-07-16

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Milburn should complete his studies and
follow the family out into these Western
wilds, where he would be home mis-
sionary to the scattered flock, who were
yet without a shepherd.
There was no school the next summer.
Everybody was too much occupied with
work and there was no money to pay the
teacher. But the Dicks were determined
there should be Sunday school, and
some of the neighbors helped, and a
church in Ohio sent them out some of
their used-up (but not worn-ouD Sabbath
school song books, and Ralph Milburn a
package of Testaments; so the first Sab
bath service in circuit of fifty miles
was begun. Little Betye was always
there In the autumn there came a long
dry season, when everybody was busy
and anxious for the fate of the crops, on
which, in that far-ott region, it seemed
that their lives depended; and the school
grew small, and the singing was weak
and spritless, and things dragged sadly.
But Betye never failed.
Then there was danger threatening on
every side. Fire got into the woods and
fire swept over the parched uplands, and
sometimes threatened the standing corn
in the fields and sometimes the rough
and homely but dearly-prized dwelling,
and in few cases even the lives of the
pioneers.
One evening in the last days of Octo-
Der little Betye sat with her father on
the broad fiat stone before their cabin
door 1t was near nine o'clock; but the
air was so oppressive, laden as 1t was
with sitting smoke. and the aspect OF
things was so threatening that they
4 g. Of
going to bed with the birds, but fingered
to watch and wonder. They apprehended
no danger to their home, though change
of the wind might bring the fire near,
and they were glad to think of the pre-
cautions they had taken and to believe
them sufficient to secure their safety in
any case.
They had just risen to go in, when the
sound of horses feet was heard, and a
rider dismNunted at their door, and,
holding his horse by the bride, made
known his Grand The fire was sweep
ing down toward the home of William
Corner, a young farmer, two miles or
more away. Nothing had been done to
guard the place, as William had been
| fiat on his back with bilious fever. The
neighbors were rallying and had sent for
more help.
Such call was not to he refused
Betye's father stayed only to get his AK
| and his coat and to speak moment in Il
low tone to his little girl
Good by, little un. You'll mind your
hiding-placc if any danger should come,
| and keep your eyes open. Hope I'll be
back before mornin'. Don't go up the
ladder to bed. Sleep down on the skin,
with yer clo'es on, and keep your wits
awake all the time"
eyes, pap. ! know ] amt afraid.
Go along! Goodbye
"Good-by! You're brave un. Good
byw And then Betye was alone in the
cabin and soon alone in the silent wilder
ness.
But she was brave, as her father had
said. She brought the skin, spread it
down in a corner, got her pillow from the
loft, and lay down TO sleep. A great
uglylooking, yellow dog lay on the
ground outside the cabin door. He was
sleeping apparently, but in reality watch
full and vigilant. Betye did not imme
diately fall asleep. She could hear the
stroke of the AK revcrberating through
the woods and the thought of others
danger troubled her. The dog, too, every
now and then, hearing or imagin-
! ing some unusual noise, broke out in
clamOr of barking. But at last
she slept. Many times she awoke
! in the night, went to the door, and looked
| and listened. But as the night adj.
vanccd the distant glow of the fire
| grew less bright and the danger seemed
past, and each time she lay down with Il
securer feeling and slept more soundly.
At last she awoke to find the daylight
/ Il. .,,.,, 1T ti.. Ehn
wondered why her father had not come,
but she was not disturbed, and applied
herself to getting her usual breakfast of
corn-frittcrs and molasses. When she
had eaten, and given the dog his portion,
she brought out her knitting and sat on
the door-stone. The forenoon wore
away. She knew by the shadow of the
trees it was noon, and she was just gath
ering some chips to cook her dinner
when the dog began barking as if he
heard some one.
"Now Pap's coming" said she; and
turned her face in the direction the dog
was looking. She noticed that the smoke
was more dense than ever. The wind
was rising, and it might be it was bring
ing the fire dangerously near. She
would see.
She could climb as well as any boy,
and was soon high up in the branches of
tall tree Here she could feel how
strongly the wind was blowing and see
the smoke rising from the woods west of
her. Some black, angry-looking clouds
were rising. She looked all about for
her father, but could see no one. Still
the dog kept up his barking.
Even before she descended she felt
how the wind was increasing and the
smoke coming nearer.
"Thc fire will come here. i must be
ready for it" said she, and hurried down.
She began bringing certain articles from
the house and bestowing them in her hid
ing place. This was hole in the ground,
which had been begun for well; but
the miner coming to a layer of solid rock
had given it up as a bad job. Afterward
he had enlarged and fitted it up as sort
Of outdoor cellar, covering it with logs
and OVERLAPPING these with turf. Still
later, when obliged to leave his child
alone much of the time, he had taken
care so to level the ground above and
around it that it would never be per-
ceived and, the entrance being merely
hidden by pile Of loose brush Betye