The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-02-19
On Picket.

he ioHcl ID SoiDS Ou6 ITOm tH6 re-
serve picket. Between the reserve and
the camp, where 10000 men are SUM
bering, is half a mile of woods, fields
and broken ground. Between the re-
serve and the enemy is a thin line of
pickets-a man stationed here and
there to give advance warning of any
movement.
Follow the relief and you will notice
how cautiously the men tread The
dark line winds around through the
trees, fits across open spaces, and halts
here and there for moment to relieve
the old picket. Musket-shot away are
the pickets of the enemy, and loud
word may bring a volley of bullets. q
The line might pass you twenty feet
away and you would hardly catch a
sound.
Sit you here on this bank where you
can look down upon the picket-aye, al
most touch him. A little creek runs be-
tween you. There is an open space of
thirty feet, and all around it are trees,
stumps, logs and brush. 1t would be a
lonely place in which to pass two long
hours even in times of peace. There is
warning in the midnight breeze as it
rustles the branches, and the waters of
the creek have more than once been
colored with blood. s..'..,
| The lone picket takes his station UNI
! der tree. In the dark shadow you can
hardly make him out. AS he finds him.
self alone his eyes are constantly search
ing the darkness in 'front.', and his ears
catch every sound. They tell of men
found asleep on picket. 1t must
be strange man who could close his
eyes in sleep with the night wind whis-
! pering in his ears: "Bewarel beware!
In the bushes to the left is foe!n and
the waters of the creek plainly saying:
Keep watch to the right! right! right!
rightl'' e- -
| That man has been in a dozen battles,
and has been wounded three times. d.
| Don't call him coward, -and yet he
trembles and turns pale before he has
been tifteel- 'minutes alone The slir-
mish line with its deliberate murderis not
as bad place as this. Z, If that man is
dead when the relief comes again it will
be worse than murder. Cali that bab-
bling creek company? Hark! hear what
it is saying to him, every word as plainly
spoken as if their language was. the
| same: .--r ....-f. ...,.s .. FL.
"Look out! Look out. There is a
fierce-faced guerrilla crawling through
the bushes toward you! He has a knife
in his teeth. and he is coming to assas-i
sinate you'll" ..jtr. Is, ,s.Fl man. .,,
If the. creek did not say SO, and if the
picket did not understand, why did he
| give that sudden start and change his
position? Why does he kneel to get a
clearer look around him? Why does he +.
keep his eyes fastened upon that stump
until the intensity of his gaze brings out
every knot and splinter? If fifty men
were asleep in that space and one other
were awake he would feel the loneliness
and danger. By daylight a schoolgirl
might weave a romance from the bah
BILE of the waters. Hank! Is there any
romance in thisP .+. .J ~l7.1
"Beware! beware! That man with
tangled hair, fierce eyes and savage face
is still advancing! Be on your guard.
watch-listen!''
Cowardp Count the scars on his
body-look up his record! No, not
coward, and yet his pale face comes to
you from the darkness almost like d can
dies light. If it was fear, he would
crouch down. If it was cowardice, he
would hide or desert his post. No, it is
not fear, and yet he thinks it feeling
unworthy of him, and he braces against
it. He turns a deaf ear to the whisper
ings of the creek. He refuses to hear
the warnings of the breeze. You can
almost see him as he shuts his teeth
hard together and tries to force his
thoughts into other channels. 10 ,'"'
"Look out! look out!' whispers the
creek, but he refuses to hear. ..J a,fa
Something is moving over the ground
behind him. You can see it from where
you sit. 1t is something darker than
the dark ground beneath. Now it
moves-now it halts-now its fierce
eyes almost light up the darkness as it
makes out the muffied form of the pick
| ct leaning up against the tree.mlBf 9fT
murder! Murder! Murder CUR,
giles the creek. ,t..- -. '...f ..,..,o .o,,,,
You hear it, but the picket is think
ing of home. A thousand miles away
| is quiet farm house. Ii the same wind
blows there it kisses the apple blossoms
and lulls the wife and children to deep
err slumbers. ~ 't.'''''l 'n''''7 -
| You see that dark something coming
nearer. tits creeping up behind him. y
A tiger would rustic the ieages or snap,
twig, and his victim would have time
to call Gods name before the spring.
This is human tiger. God put mercy
in his heart, but it was driven out by
hate. ...-J ......I s,,..,........t r,.......
"Save him! Save him!'' cries the
creek. '"'''.'A '" t''"ii'i.'" siS"iH
You start at the call, but he does not /
move. He is thinking of the wife whose
tears wet his cheek-of the curly heads
who cling to his arms-of the miles and
the dangers between him and them. ~
That something rises up behind him.
That terrible knife is transferred from
mouth to hand. u'lssa{I ma .geoi
~ E" Murder! Murder! Murder!'' but it
was done. Not a cry-not even groan.
The dead sank down with only sigh.
The picture of wife and children was :,
hardly hidden between earth and
Heaven.
"One less!" Kissed the human tiger
as he peered into the blanched face, and
with gurgle in his throat, as if he had
Tapped at the hot blood flowing toward
the creek, he crept away to seek another
victim.
"This is wari" whispered the creek
| as it shrunk away from the blood, "and