The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1883-12-06
DOLLY .
A Western Drover's Story.


drover, and live, miles and miles away upon
the western prairie. There wasn't house
within sight when We moved there, my
wife and T., and now We haven't many
neighbors, though those we have are good
ones.
One day, about ten years ago, I went
away from home to sell some fifty head OF
caffeine creatures as ever saw. was
to buy some groceries and dry goods be-
fore come back, and, above all, doll for
our youngest Dolly; she had never lad
store doll of her own-only the rag babies
her mother had made her.
Dolly could talk nothing else, and went
down to the very gate to call after me to
buy big one. Nobody but parent can
understand how full my mind wasfof that
the first thing I.burried off to buy Dolly's
Doll; Ifound a large one, with eyes that
would open and shut when you pulled
wire, and had it wrapped up in paper, and
tucked it under my arm, while had the
parcels of calico and delaine and tea and
sugar put up Then, late asst was, start
ed for home It might have been more
prudent to stay until morning. but felt
anxious to get back, aud eager to hear
Dolly's praise about her doll.
/. was mounted on steady going old
horse of mine. and pretty well loaded.
Night set in before I was mile from town,
and settled down dark as pitch while l was
in the middle of the widest bit Of road l
know Of. could ha ye felt my way, though,
remembered it so we'll; and was almost,
when the storm that had been brewing broke
and pelted the rain in torrents, FIVE: miles,
or may be six, from home yet, too.
rode on as fast as could, but all Of a
sudden heard little CRY like a child's
voice! I stopped short and listened-I
heard it again. =. I called and it answered
me- couldn't see thing; all was dark as
| pitch. =. I got down and felt about in the
grass-calledz again ana again was an
swered. Then I began; to wonder. I'm
not timid, but was known to be droyer
| and to have money about me. 1t might be
trap: to catch me unawares and rob and
! murder LIE.
I am not superstitious--n very; but how
could real child be out in the prairies in
such night, at such an hour? Itmight be
| more than human.
The bit of coward that hides itself in
| most men showed itself to me then, and
| was half inclined to run away. but once
| more heard that cry, and said I:
IF any mans child is hereabouts, An
| thony Hunt is not the man to let it die"
l.
Of hollow under the hill and CROPPED
! that way. Sure enough l found little
| dripping thing, that moened and sobbed as
! took it in my arms. l called my horse,
! and the beast came to ME, and l mounted,
and tucked the little soaked thing under
my coat as well as I could, promising to
| take it home to nanny. 1t seemed tired
to death, and pretty soon cried itself to
| sleep against my bosom.
| 1t had slept there over an hour when
saw my own windows There were lights
in them. and I supposed my wife had lit
them for my sake; but when got into the
door, yard saw something was the matter,
! and stood still with a dead fear of heart
| FIVE minutes before I could lift the latch.
At last did it, and saw the room full of
| neighbors, and my wife amid them weeping.
| When she saw me she hid her face.
NOh, don't tell him." she said. 1T will
kill him.
What is it, Ieighbors?" cried.
| And one said:
| Nothing now, I hope-.what's that IN
your arms?"
"A poor lost child" said I. Il found it
| on the road. Take it, will you. I've
turned faint" And I lifted the sleeping
| thing and saw the face Of my own child,
my little Dolly.
It was my darling, aud none other. that
had picked up upon the drenched road.
My little child had wandered out to meet
| daddy and the doll. while her mother was
l at work, and whom they were lamenting as
| one dead. thanked Heaven on my knees
| before them all. It is not much of story,
| neighbors, but I think of it often in the
| nights, and wonder how I could bear to live
now if had not stopped when 1 heard the
cry for help upou the road, the little baby,
hardly louder than squirrels chirp:
That's Dolly yonder with her mother in
the meadow, girl worth saving-I think
| (but then I'm her father, and partial,
maybe)-the prettiest and sweetest thing
this side of the Mississippi.