The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-11-03
he had fired the shot that had so Sc

!
move hand or foot, and when he saw
the great kindness of those about him
he cried tenderiy, silently, in his help
lessness, thankful that human nature
was good and thankful that to the help
less God made all men kind. He
moaned, thinking not of the torn and
ghastly forms about him, 'Oh! that
some one would roll this body Off
can't somebody turn me over?'
A large man in gray who had been
struck in the shoulder and head, and
who had been lying silent and sullen
with his back to haywood, but still
near him, worked toward him on one
side, while little fellow in blue,
wounded in the legs, dragged himself
nearer from the other. One worked
with his legs and the other with his
hands, until the heavy body that had
fallen across haywood S limbs was rolled
off, and with the new coursing of blood
he felt strange elasticity of spirits.
The man in blue called him Little
Pawpaw," in a CHEEKY woman's petting
way, and the sullen man in gray said
abruptly: "And why Pawpaw?" Then
came the story of the pawpaw adven-
ture years before, and the Confederate,
scanning as well as he could the youth
full face of haywood, said: ''By hokeyl
| expect that L am the fellow that hit
you that time, and here we are quiet
and passionless as babies"
No help came to these poor unfortu-
mates from the hostile armies, bowling
and growing and snarling at each
other through the long night in can
mons roar and rifle crack, and so they
crawled together, these ten men, some
in gray and some in blue, and so they
were found sleeping in the sunlight of
the next morning by a flag of truce
party.
Frank commenced that 'New Year.
patient man, and with respect rather
than q contempt for enemies in war.
His army name still hangs to him, al
though the glad children of his neigbor-
hood. with lisping freedom, modified it
to "little papa" and it gained new sig
nificance in later years when he went
trembling and nervous to a room where
lay pale little woman smiling her
first mothers smile over a newborn
babe, and who, as his quivering lips
touched hers, said softly and sweetly:
'Little papa"
PETE, THE WHISTLER.
There was heavy pontoon bridge at
Bridgeport. Heavy wagons moved
across it; long lines of artillery thun-
dered over it and still it stood firm.
One morning the long lines of Confed-
crate prisoners captured on Lookout
Mountain and Mission Ridge were to
cross the river and march to some point
where they were to take the cars. At
last the column was ready to move
rebels in four ranks, and a line of men
in blue on each side. For some reason
all were in fine spirits, and the crowd
moved hilariously on the bridge, step
ping to some tantalizing tune whistled
by a stalwart Indianian in the center.
In the midst of the gayety, and while
an officer on shore was shouting him
self hoarse in vain endeavor to have
the men understand that they must
drop the step, the bridge parted in the
middle, the ends floated down stream
and the center of the line, with the gay
whistler, went pell nell into the swift
current.
There was, of course, confusion.
Those who could swim struck out for
shore. Boats were procured and the
work of rescue commenced. Pete, the
whistler, could swim, but was not skill
full enough to make much progress I'M
der the circumstances, particularly as
he would not give up his gun. a boat
put toward him, when he called the at
tention of those inside to poor fellow
in gray clinging to little log of wood
that could not bear him up. Then,
after picking up this unfortunate, az
they turned again toward Pete, he
shouted: "Save him first, can stand it
a little longer" showing the way to
feeble white faced man who was giving
up in despair. The boatman turned to
the rebel and turned again to Pete.
They saw him suspend efforts, turn
over heavily, and before they could
reach him he sank.
There was much mourning among
Yanks and rebs over comrades lost, but
at the loss of Pete, who had been so I'M
selfish, both parties grieved sincerely.
The rebels went on their way north
ward, and the telegraph flashed the
news all over the country, and Pete was
named among the lost. A week later,
however, Pete came whistling into
camp to tell story of escape that
seemed almost incredible. When he
went down he thought he would soon
come up again, but was carried in an
undercurrent far down stream. He
must have come up near piece of tim
Der, for when he realized anything he
was floating on log, with arms locked
tight about it, He had no strength to
help himself and no inclination, so he
foated on and on. He was finally
picked up by a negro, and, as he ex-
pressed it, was thawed out before a big
fire. After some days he felt as well as
ever, and 'drove his ponies" into camp.
The pale rebel had been so much con
cerned about the loss of the man who
showed such a spirit in his behalf that
Pete sat down and wrote a sprawling
letter to Camp Chase. But none of the
participants in that pontoon misfortune
could believe the statement true. Pete
lived, however, to enliven many dull
march with his fife-like whistling.-
Chicago Inter ocean.
Suspicious Wolves.