Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1880-08-15
The Dyat9,s,,,er-Bou.

eighsy years ago, a party OF tourists
were crossing the Alps-and a pretty
large party, too, for there were several
thousands of them together. Some
were riding, some walking, and most of
them had knapsacks on their shoulders,
Like many Alpine tourists nowadays.
But instead Of walking sticks they car
ried muskets and bayonets, and dragged
along with them some fifty or sixty can
non.
In fact, these tourists were nothing
less than French army; and very
| hard time of it they seemed to be hav-
ing. Trying work, certainly, even for
| the strongest man, to wade for miles
| through knee-deep snow in this bitter
| frost and biting wind, along these mar
row, slippery mountain paths, with.
precipices hundreds Of feet deep all
soand The soldiers looked thin and
heavy-eyed for want Of food and sleep,
| and the poor horses that were dragging
the heavy guns stumbled at every step.
But there was one among them who
| seemed quite to enjoy the rough march
ing, and tramped along through the
deep snow and cold, gray mist, through
which the great mountain peaks over
head loomed Like shadowy giants, as
merrily as if we were going to a picnic.
This was little drummer-boy of 10
years old, whose fresh, rosy. face looked
| very bright and pretty among the grim,
| SCARED visages Of the old soldiers.
When the cutting wind whirled shower
| of snow in his face he dashed it away
with CHEEKY laugh, and awoke all the
echoes with the lively rattle Of his drum,
till it seemed as if the huge black rocks
around were all singing in chorus.
"Bravo, Petit Tambour Qittle
1 drunmer) cried tall man in shabby
gray cloak, who was marching at the
head of the line with long pole in his
hand, and striking it into the snow
every now and then to see how deep it
was, "Bravo, Pierre, my boy! With
such music as that one could march all
the way to Moscow"
The boy smiled, and raised his hand
to his cap in salute, for this rough-look-
ing man was no other than the General
himself, Fighting Macdonald" one of
| the bravest soldiers In France, of whom
| his men used to say that one sight of
| his face In battle was worth whole
| regiment.
"Long live our General T. shouted o
hoarse voice and the cheer, flying from
mouth to mouth, rolled along the silent
mountains like peal Of distant thunder.
But its echo had hardly died away
when the silence was again broken by
| another sound Of very different kind
strange, uncanny sort Of whispering
far away up the great white mountain
| side. Moment by moment it grew louder
| and harsher, till at length it swelled into
deep, hoarse roar.
"On your faces, lads!" reared the
General {" it's an avalanche p
But, before his men had time to obey,
the ruin was upon them. Down thun-
dezed the great mass of snow, sweeping
the narrow ledge-path like waterfall,
and crashing down along with it came
heaps of stone and gravel and loose
earth, and uprooted bushes and great
blocks of cold blue ice. For q moment
all was dark as night; and, when the
rush had past, many Of the brave fellows
who had been standing on the path were
nowhere to be seen. They had been
carried down over the precipice, and
either killed or buried alive in the snow.
But the first thought of their comrades
was not for them. When it was seen
what had happened, one cry arose from
every mouth:
Where's our Pierre? Where's our
little drummer %
Where, indeed? Look which way
they would, nothing was to be seen of
their poor little fayorite, and, when they
shouted his name, there was no answer.
Then there broke forth terrible cry of
grief, and many hard old soldier, who
had Looked without finching at a line Of
leveled muskets, felt the tears start into
his eyes at the thought that that bright
face would never be seen among them
again.
But all at once, far below them, out Of
the shadow OF the black, unknown gulf
that lay beneath those tremendous rocks,
arose the faint rob of q drum, beating
the charge. The soldiers started, and
bent eagerly forward to listen then up
went shout that shock the air.
"He's alive, comrades! our Rerre's
alive, after ALI"
"And beating his drum still, like
brave lad! He wanted to have the old
music to the lasti"
"But we must save him, lads. or he'll
freeze to death down there. He must be
cax,o1