Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1884-1886, 1886-05-15
STOLEN FROM THE FORT.

| SIOLEN FKOM The fORI.
The sun shone as brilliantly on the parade
ground at Fort Fletcher as though it was an
earthly paradise instead Of q bleak and ugly
bit OF Montana prairie, cut of from its pa
rent wilderness only by some rough defenses
and two rows of sufficiently ll-built quar-
ters
Mattel Heriot, sitting in a small porch in
front of her husbands quarters, her fingers
busy with some huge darns in pair of scar
let stockings, turned her pretty, DISCONTINUED
eyes, more often than was good for the prog
ress of her work, to another pair Of scarlet
stockings which flashed in and out among
the group of children with an activity
which promised her more darning In the
near future; for they belonged to her small
son, and though Trottie was only years
oil i, he had early manifested positive genius
for wear and tear, holding his own IN that,
as in other boyish attributes, among the
elder children with a cheerful self-confidence
which filed his mother with mingled admira-
ton and regret
| Life had been 50 easy-no cares, no re-
sponsibilities, no anxieties-while every
thing a girl could desire Of luxury, amuse-
| ment and admiration had been showered
upon her as the adopted daughter Of a
wealthy and generous though rather tyran-
nical. uncle 1t had all been quite perfect
until she had had danced with Tom Heriot
| at West Point ball, and read something in
his blue eyes, heard something in his pleas
ant voice. that stirred her heart with the con-
viction that, charming as her life had seemed,
| 1t would henceforward be very empty and
desolate If she must Danish those eyes and
that voice from it-a conviction strong
enough to support her through ell the stormy
| scenes which followed her uncle's bitter OPP
position to her engagement to pennies
lieutenant; strong enough to make her re-
ply to his final declaration that she must
choose between her lover and him by put
ting her hand in Tom Heriots, with the
passionate protest that where he went, there
must she follow, even though it were 70 the
worlds end
Her thoughts came back suddenly to the
present at O more uproarious shout than
usual from the children, and she saw Trottie
cantering toward her astride Of stick,
while half the pleats Of his Killed skirt
trailed behind him "Oh, what boy!' she
cried, rising to catch him as he passed
An Indian woman, with basketful Of
beadwork strapped to her back, stood gaz-
ing at the mother and child, with a look Of
yearning sorrow in her eyes, which half
touched, half frightened Mabel Who do
you wants" she asked quickly.
Me want nothing white mother can
give" the squaw answered, gravely, laying
one brown hand on Trottie's bright hair
"Him pretty boy" she said slowly, hard
breath between each sentence Me have
pretty boy 50 big White mother very
happy. She keep her boy. Great Spirit
take my boy" Then with gesture OF de-
spair which all her wonderful savage endur
ance could not subdue, she clasped both
hands before her face and sank on her knees,
shaking with sobs which she still struggled
TO silence
stood hesitating what to do her aversion to
Indians, which was the natural result Of
four years spent in their near neighborhood,
striving with her compassion for the grief
which most appeals to a woman's sym
patty.
But no doubts troubled Trottie Grief
was evident in every line Of the bent, tren-
bling figure, and for every grief in his ex-
perience there was one remedy sure and I'M
failing He applied it at once.
Not cry any more" he said in his cheer
full little voice, and kissed the only bit of
brown cheek which her claspei hands left
visible
She turned as though she would have
flung her arms about him, but Mabel had
clasped her boy fast, with q sudden terror,
sharp though indefnable.
The Indian rose slowly, her face recover
ing its usual calm as she did 50.
Pretty boy very good to me; white
mother not be afraid me hurt him. she
said, and walked away with grave dig
nifty which brought a shamed color to
Mabels face
She stepped forward with an impulse to
say something kind, but paused with a
smile at herself, half shy, half amused.
What could she say Of consolation that an
Indian woman would understand, whose re-
igious faith was probably even more vague
than her knowledge Of English. And she
shrank from offering q grief that was 50
real and 50 dignified the usual very sub
stantial cure of squaw troubles No. Trottie
had done all that could lie done to show their
sympathy Poor soul! whatever else she
might fail to comprehend, she had under
stood the touch of those baby lips.
With kiss that was even more tender
than usual, Mabel Heriot took her boy on
her knees, and told him fairy stories until
dinner time, to the utter neglect of the un
darned stockings and the torn skirt
All that day Mabel felt strangely anxious
and restless whenever Trottie was out of her
sight But by the next morning common
sense had gotten the better of imagination,
and, absorbed in her everyday duties she
allowed him to play with the other children
on the parade ground. At O'Clock the
maid was sent to bring him in TO dinner, he
having failed to appear as hungrily prompt
as usual In an quarter Of an hour she re-
turned, full of mingled excitement and
fright, and said that, not finding Trottie on
the parade, shs had gone to the houses o: the
other officers children, only to be told that
Trottie was not with any Of them Nor had
he been seen for some time Then Mabel, a
terrible certainty stabbiny her heart with
rang that made her fair face look suddenly
gray and aged, cried, sharply, That
Indian woman has taken him. My baby.
my baby"
In vain Tom Heriot assured her that
their naughty boy, who was great pet in
the regiment would surely be found in one
OF the soldiers quarters, feasting his eyes
and ears with strange sights and sounds
Go and see,' she said, hoarsely; "but you
will not find him unless you find her.
When he came back presently, very white
and quiet, from his useless search, the
alarm had spread, and there were kind faces
and anxious suggestions and offers OF as
sistance in Mabels pretty little drawing
room, which suddenly looked so desolate.
Nobody but Mabel gave the Indian
woman more than n passing thought, for
they were all used to daily visits from In
dams, who had long been perfectly peaceful,
and were believed quite incapable of n
holder crime than petty dishonesty. Be-
sides, what motive could tempt them %
steal a child, whose discovery in their hands
would be most certainly severely punished,
while even his undiscovered possession could
not avail them in any way II was no:
long before a soldier was sent, after a whis-
Iered consultation to climb down the bluff
at the further end Of the parade, toward
which the mothers in the garrison had been
CHANGING shuddsringly ever since the n,ws
Of Trottis's disappearance In terribly
short time he returned, the tears filing hi.
kindly Irish eyes, and in his hand Trottie's
little fer, which he had found halfway
down the bluf, Just where rock overhuns
the swift Yellowstone A great silence ieli
upon the fort, which had been so full OF ex-
element, and the voices which had spoken
of hop, and courage to Mabel were hushet
when Tom Heriot, sinking down beside HI
wife's chair, laid his head on her knees an!
sobbed
Il was Mabel who spoke, almost at oace,
in q strange strained voice that was yet was
instinct with energy and something which.