The Mankato free press. [volume] (Mankato, Blue Earth County, Minn.) 1879-1924, 1883-11-16
SNAKES IN THE GRASS.

II you stand here and peer through
the darkness you can see it all. There
is the wagon of lone emigrant family,
its cover weather-worn and rent to
prove that the journey has been long
and weary. Ten feet away are the
embers of the fire ON which the evening
meal was cooked. Betweenthe wagon and
the fire is the rude bed of robes and blank
cts on which mother and children are
sleeping. On the other side of the We
hicle stand the horses, munching at the
short. sweet grass or listening to the
far-of voice of the wolf.
That is the background. In the
foreground sentinel sits with his back
to the solitary cotton wood. At his
right-hand runs little brook-at his left
is the boundless prairie DER which night
has spread her mantle. Forty feet away
are wife and children trusting to his
vigilance. Overhead gray white clouds
are driving across the starlight heavens
and the moan of the wind has an uneasy
nervous sound. Away out on the prairie
the wolf gallops from knoll to knoll and
snuffs the air, and the coyote gnaws the
bleached bones of the buffalo and utters
his short, sharp cries of hunger.
Is there dangerp All day long as the
tired horses pulled the wagon at slow
pace. the emigrant has carefully scanned
the circle about him, but without cause
for uneasiness. He knows he is in the
Indian country and for the last twenty
four hours his nerves have been braced
to hear their dreaded war-whoop and TO
catch sight of q band riding down upon
him.
1t is midnight as we find him. His
ear has been keen as fox's and his eye
has not rested for moment The stakes
are human lives-his life with the rest.
The odds are ten to one against him.
"Ah! IL we were back at the old house
in Ohio! You remember the old farm
house hidden away among the cherry
and pear treesP There is the highway
lined with dusty May weeds. Half a
mile below is the quaint little school
house where the children learned their
A, B. c. Half mile above is the bridge
across the"
The sentinel rouses up and rubs his
eyes. 1t was the creek talking to him.
As he listened to its monotonOus babble
It suddenly began to converse in plain
tongue. For moment he is thrilled
and alarmed. He looks keenly about,
and he listens with bated breath. There
are the same sounds-the wall of the
munching of the horses
the babbling of the brook-now and
then half groan from one of the child
rem sleeping an uneasy sleep. And
now the brook talks again:
.'There was the big brown barn full OF
sweet smelling hay-the pasture lot
with its cows-the pond in which the
children used to wade-the
orchard with its burden Of fruit. Don't
you remember how you used to sit on
the stoop at evening-time and smoke
your pipe and watch the children at play
on the GRASP How peaceful every.
thing was! There was drowsy feeling
in the summer air-the lazy hum of in.
sects-the low songs of the good wife az
she rocked the baby to sleep-why, you
sometimes fell asleep and let yonr pipe
drop FROM"
The brook babbled and the man slept.
Aye! the sentinel who had five lives in
his keeping slept and dreamed. and in
bis dreams wandered back to the old
home and heard the old familiar
ounds.