Dodge City times. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1876-1892, 1885-06-18
An Arnv Wait.


the progress of this life; as if the world
had gone by and left him hopelessly be.
hind-no Christmas turkey tor him this
year; not for the twenty years past,
reckon.the old confederate soldier( who
limpe1 about awkwardly, for he had a
lot of lead to carry told me the story
the other day in the Shenandoah. If it
is untrue or dull, blame him, not me. ]
only give it as l got it.
Gen. "Jeb" Stewart was hanging on
the federal flank. His midnight camp
was pitched on the hillside. Up the hill
little way lay farm house; two or
three haystacks hung upon the hillside.
The worn out horses fed there and nod
ded their drowsy heads to the hay. All
around on the ground under the trees in
camp the troopers lay-black men,white
men, brown men, men who were gray
and old, little lads, boys who had seen a
dozen battles and hardly yet as many
years, a mixed and motley lot; ragged
wretched and hungry. They lay on
their bellies before the fire munching
roasted corn, gnawing it off the cob
greedily, husking it, roasting it, rolling
it in the ashes on the Goals, singeing it in
the blazing fire of the old Virginia fence
rails. Now and then shot rang out in
the still, clear night away where the
tired pickets met too closely for peace;
and now, and then better disposed men
on the picket lines, or more favored and
fortune, met together and reached each
other on their bayonets tobacco and old
ragged newspapers in a sort of exchange
Of prisoners of war. The moon rode
high and white in the great blue sea
above, and all the stars of heaven look
ed down in pity and peace.
Then a song burst out. The black men
were singing louder, sweeter. with more
pathos and memories of home than the
white men. 1t was sad, grotesque,
weird and unique picture. Suddenly
and appearing lot.
discipline! Look here, Sergeant Zeb,
l want discipline or death. Discipline, l
say! Do you expect me to fight battles
and win victories with bowling mob
like this, and the enemy right here wait
ing to receil on us the moment we gave
him chance! Discipline, say Hang
your blacks or shoot your whites, Or
have discipline"
SILENCE OVER THE WHITE AND BLACK
Silence in q second! And the long
lean men and sleeping lads pulled them
selves together and tried to look and act
like soldiers, while the blacks at the sug-
gestion of their being hung up, melted
back from tae fitful embers into the
night, as if they were part oft.
Then the weary, bearded chief threw
himself onto heap of saddles at hand
and forgot his sternness as he looked
about over the wretched group of poor
fellows gathered there for little rest
under the oaks.
"Boys, I'm hungry, hungry as wolf.
What have you got to eat?"
A dozen men sprang up, half dozen
young, beardless troopers rushed for
ward, and from out the night, lack un-
der the trees there came many black
forms. And each and every one, black
men and white men, old men and little
boys, reached up and thrust into the
cheiftain's face, with generous alacritys
an ear of roasted corn. Some of these
ears of corn had only a few teeth marks
in them, being almost entirely intact.
Others again were pretty well gnawed
down to the cob. But they were all
alike offered with prompt generosity.
.'Corn!" and the confederate chief
shook his head with grim and sickly
smile as he muttered to himself. "Corn,
boiled corn, roasted corn, raw corn,
white corn, red corn-all kinds of corn.
I'm hungry, but l can't eat any corn to-
night"
The men melted back into respectful
silence into broad circle. And there,
suddenly somehow in the center of that
circle, stood child; little boy who
had been aroused from his sleep on the
pile of saddles in the commotion that at
tended the chieftain's coming. And
now, wide awake, with a little toy flag
in one hand and red apple in the
other, the little boy stood there in the
midst of these wild and ragged men
with cheeks as rosy as the apple he held
in his little dimpled hand.
THE INNoCENT's RED APPLE.
"If yer hungry, Mister Capten Gener-
n, here's my yed apple" and with this
the little boy toddled right up and stood
almost between the booted legs of the
surprised soldier.
Sergeant Zeb, where in all Jerico did
this child come from? Is it yours?
wont have children around us here. /
left my babes at home can't you do the
same?"
"TaiD't my poor little chicken, Gen
ersl Stewart"
"Then take it to it's mother" thunder
ed the chief.
ats mother is dead. General"
"To its father, then"
"Its father is dead, too, General"
"Dead?"