The Sunday tatler and Jersey City express. (Jersey City, N.J.) 1883-1886, 1885-12-20
SPECIFIES OF Il NIGHT.
Silent Work of an Assassin in Gen. CUSTER
Camp.

Silent Work of an Assassin in Gen. Custer's
Camp.
Cne winters night, when Clusters man
picketed the Shenandoah Valley against
Early, man was found dead on his post as
sassinated. powerful blow from long,
keen knife had finished him SO suddenly
that he had not time to fire his carbine OF
cry out.
Who has done this bloody deed? Men
asked the question of each other, but no
one could answer it. 1t could not have
been coinrade-no enemy was near by.
That gloomy winters night, the pickets
were posted along the forest and thicket,
the officers whispered to each man as he
left him on his post
VI" Remember the murder of last night
Let nobody approach from the woods"
When the relief had passed out of hear
ing the lonely watch began. A soldier may
pace a beat or take up his station in the
shadow of tree to watch and listen for the
the enemy who has fought him in open day
and keep his nerve, but the feeling that an
assassin may creep upon him and stri 6
him to the heart makes quite another man
of him.
The wind blows up in fierce gusts, roar
ing and sobbing among the leafess trees,
and again it dies away, until there is
scarcely. a rustling in the bushes. The
fierce gusts rouse the pickets to intense
watchfulness, and the low rustling makes
his heart beat faster. Was it on this post
the picket of the night previous was muir
dered? He does not know, but as the
thought flashes through his mind his eyes
scan tae earth at his feet, as if blood would
not sink into the SOIL 1T must have been
this post. There is that tongue of thicket
reaching out into the cleared field TO furn-
ish cover for an assassin until within fifty
feet of his victim. Then advantage could
be taken of the broken ground to come
still nearer, and one whose eyes were not
looking for a creeping assassin would fail to
detect him until ne rose up to strike.
The night grows blacker and the rush of
wind whirls snowflake against the soldier q
cheek. He starts as if struck with missile.
IT storm be added to gale and darkness
what chance has he against those who may
prowl with murder in their hearts? He is
man of nerve, and he fights against the
timidity creeping into his heart. One who
rides against a battery belching grape and
canister should not fear single man, even
if it be in storm and darkness.
w udt 146 I6llSl COutu2 I6 WOulQ
have made oath that he had not been Oh
his post more than an hour. Yes. it must
be the relief, They are coming from the
right number. The assassin, if he medi-
.tated further bloodshe1, has been baffied.
His is the first post 10 be relieved. The
relief advances, and he calls out,
Halt Who comes there ?"
8. Relief guard, with tie countersign."
Advance, officer of the guard r
The officer steps forward, and as he
bends over to whisper the word the picket
drops his carbine, throws up his hands and
sinks to earth.
Forward to Post No. 2. Forward from
that to No. 3 and down the line until No. s,
the last, is reached. The wind waves and
shrieks among the troa ling trees andt g
snow flies in great wlite clouds, but the
spectres move on and on-from post to
post-from man to man, The snow dead
ems every football, there is never whisper
among them. Silently, swiftly, grimly--
without clank of sabre to alarm without
shot to arouse, they move down the face of
the forest, and at each post is the same:
'.Haltl Who comes there r.
Relief guard, with tina countersign !"
Advance, officer of the guard r
Now and then the stricken picket utters
half-snob or groan as the knife seeks
his life, but there is DO sound to be heard
above the storm. The reserve, sheltered in
their tents half mile away, would scarcely
hear the report of earbine.
And the sptctres came with n-iseless
tread, moved down the front of half mile
without the echo of foot fall, and de-
parted as if taken up on the wings of the
gale. An hour later another relief guard
passed that way. Sabres clanked, men
growled and cursed, and the officer at their
head tumbled over form in his path and
reached his feet to cry out:
"Dsad Murdered The assassin has
been here again /"
And they drove on with the storm, fear
ing yet hoping, and Post No. 2 yielded up