The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1880-06-29
Selert Shry.
THE DRUMMER BOY.

walking sticks they carried muskets and
bayonets, and dragged along with them
some fifty or sixty cannon.
In fact the tourists were nothing less
than a French army; and very hard
time they seemed to be having. Trying
work, certainly, even for the strongest
man to wade for miles through kDee-deep
snow in this bitter frost and biting wind,
along these narrow, slippery mountain
paths, with precipices hundreds of feet
deem all round. The soldiers looked
thin and heavy y-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 overhead
doomed like shadowy giants, as merrily
as if he we're going to picnic. This
was little drummer boy ten years old,
whose fresh rosy face looked very bright
and pretty among the grim. Scared vis-
ages of the old soldiers When the cut
(; ting wind whirled shower of snow in
his face he dashed it away with CHEEKY
laugh, and awoke all the echoes with
lively rattle of his drum, till it seemed as
lif the huge. black rocks around were all
singing in chorus.
"Bravo, Petit Tambour little drum
mer) cried a 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 now and then to
see how deep it was. "Bravo, Pierre, my
10Y! 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 looking
man was no other than the General him.
sele, "Fighling 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 regi-
ment.
Long live our General!' shou'ed a
hoarse voice, and the cheer, flying from
mouth to month, rolled along the silent
mountains like q 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 mountain side -
Moment by moment it grew louder and
harsher till at length it swelled into a
deep, hoarse roar.
"On your faces, men! roared the GIN
eral; 'it's an avalancher'
But before his men had time to obey
the ruin was upon them. Down thun-
dered :be great mass OF snow, sweeping
the narrow ledge path as with water
fall, 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 moment
all was dark as night, and when the rush
had passed many OF the brave fellows
who had been standing on the path we're
nowhere to be seen. They had been car
ried down ever the precipice aud 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 Pierre2 Where's our
little drummer ?"
Where indeed2 Look which way
they would, nothing was to be seen OF
their poor little favorite, 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 line OF
leveled muskets, felt the tears start into
his eyes at the thought that the brigh.
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 between those tremendous rocks,
arose the faint roll of drum. beating
the charge. The soldiers started and
bent eagerly forward to listen; then up
went shout that shook the air.
Hes alive, comrades Our Pierre's
alive after all!
"And beating his drum still, like a
brave lad! He wanted to have the old
music to the last!'
"But we must save him, lads, or he'll
freeze to death down there. He must
be saved!'
"He shall be T. broke in a deep voice
from behind, and the General himself
was seen standing on the brink of the
precipice, throwing off his cloak.
"No, no, General" cried the grena-
diers with one voice, "you mustn't run
such a risk as that. Let one OF US go
instead. Your life is worth more than
all of ours put together"
my soldiers are my children" an
swered Macdonald quietly, "and no
father gradges his own life to save his
son."
| The soldiers knew better than to
make any more objections. Tney obeyed
in silence, and the General was swing
ling in mid air, down, down, down, till
be vanished at last into the darkness ol
the cold, black depth below.
Then every man drew long breath,
and all eyes were strained to watch for
the first sign of his appearing, for they
knew we'll that he would never come
back without the boy, and that the
chance was terribly against him
Meanwhile Macdonald, having landed
safely at the foot of the precipice, was
looking anxiously around in search o
Pierre; but the beating of the drum had
ceased, and he had nothing to guide
him.
"Pierre |" shouted he, at the top o.
his voice, "where are you my boy 2
"Here, General!" answered a veal
: voice, so faint that he could barely dis
tinguish it.
And there sure enough, was the littl'
fellows curly head, half buried in
huge mound Of snow, which alone ha'
> saved him from being dashed to piece
against the rocks as he fell. Macdonald