Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1877-09-19

even chance that he would be killed
and scalped before he got out of sight
of the command. But still the neces-
slty Of sending the message was impera-
tive. 70 order any one to take il was
like signing his death warrant, and even
the brave Gibbon shrank from this He
called up half dozen men and pro-
posed TO them the undertaking Bows
said Gibbon. =" ! can't order YOU on this
desperate hazard, for | believe in my
soul it is almost certain death, and yet
must do my duty and send the message.
If none Of the scouts will go | will send
my nephew" The person indicated
was Il brave young officer just from
West Point, and this was his first ex-
perience in warfare. What chance had
he! Sitting few PAGES apart from the
group of officers and men was Beidler
cleaning his gun and polishing his equip
ments-a stout heavy-built man of for
ty years of age. Hard service had
rendered rugged his set, determined
face, and exposure had grizzled his beard
and hair. But there was frank and
manly look in the full, black eyes, and
about the finely curved mouth a touch
of tenderness. His voice was sweet as
a woman's. Even the rugged nature of
this desperate service had not destroyed
the symmetry of his hands, which were
clean and taper as girls. But in the
slender fingers dwet the strength of
gianta deadly hand for his foes, but
cordial and kind as charity for all upon
whom he looked for friendship. As
Gibbon ceased speaking the frontiers
mans voice rose clear and distinct
" Never mind, general, I'll carry your
messagew
Gibbon turned toward him in sur
prise.
"What! you, n? Why, man, /
couldn't ask you to do such thing.
Besides, you are our pilot.
Yes, | know; but | don't mind the
venture. Anyway, I'll carry the mes
sage"
You know better than do, N,
that it's n deadly venture, | wouldn't
have dared to ask you
" Its all right, general. Get your
letter ready and let me have it at dark. "
Then rising to his feet he limped
away, for X Beidler was lame An
Indian bulled in one of the wild fOrays
of the border had shattered his hip, and
although the wound had long since
healed it had left him lame for life
Two hours later, when the shadows of
mountain twilight were falling thick and
dusky over the valley, he cautiously rode
down the canon of the Little Horn and
disappeared from view. About the Incl
dents of that desperate ride of 400
miles-of his hairbreadth escapes-of
his desperate adventures, it would be
in the limits of an article
like this to give anything like an ade-
quate description. 1t will suffice to
say that the message was carried, and
when the writer, saw him two weeks
later preparing for his return trip down
the Yellowstone, he seemed as careless
and talked as unconcernedly about it rs
one might speak of a trip to Boonville
or St. Louis. And yet he had Just
performed a deed which the boldest
would have shrunk from
in dismay When not on duty as
scout, he can generally be found around
Helena; at night invariably in news
paper offices reading the exchanges and
listening eagerly to the news Of the |
great outside world. which he has not |
seen for twenty years; always genial and
kindly, and taking a faithful interest in
the pilgrims" as the newcomers are
called III the mountains.