Lexington weekly intelligencer. (Lexington, Mo.) 1871-1887, 1885-01-10
THE WEE CRY IN THE NIGHT.
The Story That was Told by a Ten
Hearted Western Drover.
Finding a Loaf Child in the storm,
= Taking IL Home ana Finding
II his own Little one.
The Load q Good Ma
lured Horse
Carried.
From the St. Louis Globe.D Democrat

From the St. Louis Globe-D emocrat.l
NY name is Anthony Hunt. l am a
drover, and live miles and miles away
upon the western prairie. There wasn't
q house in sight when l first moved
there, my wife and I, and now we have
not many neighbors, though those we
have are good ones.
One day, about ten years ago, l went
AWAY from home to sell some fifty head
of cattle fine creatures as l ever saw.
i was to buy some groceries and dry
J goods before 1 came back, and above
Tall a doll for our youngest, Dolly. She
had never had a store doll of her own
only rag babies her mother had made
her.
Dolly could talk nothing else, and
went down to the very gate to call al
ter me to get a big II e Nobody but q
parent can understand how full my
mind was of that toy, and how, when
the cattle were sold, the first thing l
hurried off to buy was Dolly's doll. l
Mound a large one with eyes that would
open and shut when you pulled a wire,
Snd had it wrapped up in a paper and
tucked it under my arm while l had
the parcels of calico and delaine and
tea and sugar put up. Then, late as
ii was, | started for home. 1t might
have been more prudent to stay until
morning, but l felt anxious to get back
aud eager to hear Dolly's praises about
her doll.
l was mounted on steady-going old
horse and pretty we'll loaded. Night
set in before | was a mile from town,
and settled down as dark as pitch while
/ was in the middle of the darkest bit
of road l know of. l could have felt
anyway, though, l remembered it SO
well; and when the storm that had
been brewing broke and pelted the rain
in torrents, l was five miles or maybe
six miles from home.
l rode as fast as l could, but all of a
sudden I heard a little cry like a chi'd's
voice. l stopped short and listened. l
heard it again. l called and it answer
ed me. l couldn't see a thing; all was
as dark as pitch. l got down and felt
around in the grass-called again, and
again was answered. Then l began to
wonder. Pm not timid, but | was
known to be drOver, and to have mon
ey about ne. 1t might be a trap to catch
me unawares and rob and murder me.
] am not superstitious, not very, but
how could areal child be out on the
prairie in such a night, at such all hour?
1t raight be more than human. The
bit of a coward that hides itself in
most men showed itself in me then,
but once more 1 heard the cry, and
said 1:
eff any mans child is hereabouts
Anthony Hunt is. not the man to let it
die"
1 searched again. At last I bethought
me of a hollow under the hill and
CROPPED that way. Sure enough 1 found
q little dripping thing that moaned and
Sobbed as 1 took it in my arms. l
called my horse and the beast came to
ae and | mounted and tucked the little
baked thing under my coat as we'll as
I could, promising to take it home to
mamma. 1t seemed so tired, and pretty
soon cried itself to sleep on my bosom.
1t had slept there over an hour when
/ saw my W windows. There were
lights in them, and 1 supposed my wife
had Lit them for my sake, but when l
got into the doorway l saw something
was the matter, and stood still with a
dread fear of heart five minutes before
Il could lift the latch. AT last l did it,
and saw the room full of ueighbors and
my wife amid them weeping. When
/, she saw me she hid her face.
"Oh, don't tell him." she said, sit
will kill him."
e.What is it, neighbors 2" 1 cried.
"Nothing now, / hope. What's that
you have in your arml"
GA poor lost child" said 1. 81 found
it Oh the road. Take it, will you! I've
turned faint" And l lifted the Sleep
ing thing and saw the face of my own
child, my Dolly.
1t was my own darling and none
other that I had picked up on the
drenched road. NV little child had
wandered out-.o meet papa and the
doll while tie mother was at work, and
they were lamenting her as one dead. l
thanked Heaven on my knees before
them.
1t is not much of a story, neighbors,
but l think of it often in the night
] and wonder how 1 could bear to live
now if 1 had not stopped when l heard
the cry for help upon the road hardly
louder than a squirrels chirp.
That's Dolly yonder with her mother
in the meadow; a girl worth saving, l
thiak; but, then, ian her father and
partial, maybe; the prettiest and sweet
est thing this side of the Mississippi.