Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1876-02-23

saddle in manner known TO hunters who
scour the woods without companions.
1t was altogether an improbable hunt
Cows and calves would come staring at
the light, but not deer The fog was
settling down into misty drIzzle, and
Pierre began to get very impatient, for he
knew it was not far from midnight.
"See here" Jacques" he said "I'm
going down into Brule Swamp. We are
just on its edge now. I'm sure all the
deer are there tonight IN the thickets.
The swamp is too full Of ruis, and holes
Of soft mud, for you to get through on
your little pony. I'm going to station you
here under this big gum tree, which will
keep the drizzle off; and don't stir from it,
or IN lose you; and be perfectly quiet.
You are not afraid to be left, are your
"Afraidr' why, Jacques hooted at the
idea. But the child was sleepy and tired,
and very hungry, and wanted to get back
to mamma, and the nice hot gumbo she
would have ready for them.
care you going to stay long?' he asked,
dolefuly.
Not more than quarter OF an hour;
perhaps not that long"
Jacques gave a little tired sigh, as his
father moved off, whispered few words
to his nodding companion, and then his
curly head sunk down on the p tent
pOny's neck, and the boy was fast asleep
1t is probable the little negro followed
his example, and the pony, feeling the
rein loosened, began cropping the grass,
moving slowly in the direction Pierre Els
trim had taken.
Estrin, in the meantime, pursued his
nil ~ rl<ov 1x.I
IDENTIFY gone too deep in the covers for
him to find them. He was an impatient
man. and the foggy drizzie, which grew
thicker, combined with his own loss of
temper to make him lose the way. AS
hunters say he was turned round" and
wandered aimlessly about, feeling himself
lost. At last he came to an oak which he
knew to be not a mile from the opening.
A little back, enveloped in the thick va
pors, shone a pair OF eyes.
"Ahaw thought Pierre, exultingly;
"behold my game"
He raised his gun, took deliberate aim,
and, Bang! bangl" went of both barrels
almost simultaneously.
a wild agonized scream followed the
report.
Terrified, yet scarce realizing the full
measure of his misfortune, Pierre threw
himself from his horse and rushed to the
spot What a sight blasted his eyes!
The pony lay dead ON the ground, and
his own boy, his little Jacques, lay
writing beside it, with pitiful walls and
means.
80, papa, why did you shoot me?
Take me home, take me home, and let
my mamma help men'
As in horrible dream, the wretched
man replenished his fire. pan, and took up
his child to examine his wounds Per-
haps, after all, he IS not severely wounded
He tore off the blouse; he staunchcd the
blood on the tender white chest. No hope
only few minutes now With a cry
like "a wild animal, he took up his child,
and rs he stepped forward, stumbled over
the corpse of the little negro, who had
died instantly.
"a glorious shot" he yelled, and still
raging, still mad. with one arm he caught
up little Edmond, fastened his body by
the strings 10 the back of his saddle, and,
still holding his child, vaulted in his seat
q, fearful ride through the dark forest,
with those pitiful, sobbing means tearing
his heart and Grazing his brain
C Once the boy spoke, but that faint
atching breath, those feeble words, sure
ly are not merry Jaques'l Is he not in a
horrible dream? and will he not waken
from it and find the loving arms around
his neck, and the lord, clear voice call
ing Papa, papa"'
Yes, faint, iluttcring arms are feebly
raised to his neck, and the miserable man
bows his head.
"1ou didn't mean to hurt me, poor
papa. Tell mamma, tell her that"
One sigh, and poor mamma will never
hear the sweet voice of her child again.
She had waited and waited. Two or
three times the sough OF the wind seemed
tn bring her the reirain;
$50 gay, 80 gay"
but at last the well-known gallop of
Pierre's horse smoto upon her ear. One
push at the fire, which hlazed up, one
glance at the smoking gumbo, and she
FASTENED to the door To welcome them.
What is Pierre staggering in with his
deer iory He is in the door He lays his
burden on the bed, and sinks down in a
mercinl swoon.
Days and days passed before he recov.
cred full consciousness. The mother had
fought her agony alone and unsupported,
had guessed the terrible truth OF the chill
dren's death, and faced it With all the for
utude of q Streng nature; but still the man
lay ON his bed, at times raying, at others
unconscious
When he recovered, there was veil
over his mind. He knew he had killed
his child bu; it seemed the deed had been
done years and years before. In telling
the story i heard il from his own lil&-
he would pause and Try To remember,
though 1t has not been two years since the
tragedy occurred
/ - 1. Al.