The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1886-06-04

God help the many anxious ones,
In near and far. off homes,
Who walt with eager wistiulness
For him who never comes!
D m3y they in their stormy lives
Have done some deed OF love,
That has balanced all their errors
In the Book Of Life" above.
An Ex.Convictin the Hartford Times.
STOLEN FROM THE FORT.
The sun shone as brilliantly on the
parade-ground at Fort Fletcher as
though it was an earthly paradise in
stead of a bleak and ugly bit of Mon.
tana prairie, cut off from its parent
wilderness only by some rough defens-
es and two rows of sufficiently i'll
built quarters.
Mabel Heriot, sitting in a small porch
in front of her husbands quarters,
her fingers busy with somo large darns
in pair of scarlet stockings, turned
her pretty, discontented eyes, moro
often than was good for the progress
OF her work, to another pair ofscarlet
stockings which flashsd 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 8 years old, he had
early manifested a positive genius for
wear and tear, holding his own in
that, as in other boyish attributes,
among the elder children with a cheer
full self-confidence which filled his
mother with mingled admiration and
regret.
Life had been very easy-no cares,
no responsibilities, no anxieties-
while everything a girl could desire OF
luxury, amusement and admiration
had been showered upon her as the
adopted daughter of wealthy and
generous, though rather tyrannical
uncle. 1t had all been quite perfect
until she had danced with Tom Heriot
at West Point ball, read something
III his blue eyes, heard something i'll
his pleasant voice, that stirred her
heart with the heconviction that, charm.
ing Us her life had seemed, it 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
oil the stormy scenes which followed
her uncle's bitter opposition to her
engagement to q penniless lieutenant;
strong enough to make her reply to
his final declaration that she must
choose between her lover and him by
putting her hand i'll Tom Heriot's,
with the passionate protest that
where he went there she must follow.
even though it were to the worlds
end.
Her thoughts came back suddenly
to the present ut 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 be-
hind him. ooh, what q boy!" she
cried, rising to catch him as he passed.
An old Indian woman, with q basket
full of beadwork strapped to her back,
stood gazing at the mother and child,
with look of yearning sorrow in her
eyes, which half touched, halffrightened
Mabel. "What do you want?" she
asked, quickly.
tsNfe want nothino 1vhito ,,,o+bor oo,,
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
so big. White mother very happy.
She keep her boy. Great spirit take
my boy" Then with a gesture of de.
spair which all her wonderful savage
endurance could not subdue, she
clasped both hands before her face
and sank on her knees, shaking with
sobs which she still struggled to silence.
The tears filled Mabel eyes, but she
stood hesitating what to do, her aver
sion to Indians, which was the natur-
al result of four years spent in their
near neighborhood, striving with her
compassion for the grief which most
appeals to woman's sympathy.
But no doubts troubled Trottie.
Grief was evident in every line of the
bent, trembling figure, and for every
grief in his experience there was one
remedy sure and unfailing. Heapplied
it at once.
"Not cry any more!" he said in his
cheerful little voice. and kissed the
only bit of brown cheek which her
clasped 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 indie.
finable.
The Indian rose slowly, her face re-
covering its usual calm as she did so.
pretty boy very good to me; white
mother not afraid me hurt him." she
said, and walked away with a grave
dignity which brought a shamed color
to Mabel's face.
She stepped forward with an inn
pulse to say something kind, but
paused with smile at herself, half,
shy, half amused. What could she
say of consolation that an Indian
woman would understand, whose re-
ligious faith was probably even more
vague than her knowledge of English!
And she shrank from offering a grief
that was so real and SO digniied the
usual very substantial cure of squaw
troubles. No, Trottie has done all
that could be done to show their SYM
pathy. Poor soul! whatever else she
might fail to comprehend, she had
understood the touch of those baby
lips.
With a kiss that was even more ten
der than usual. Marion Heriot took
her boy on her knees, and told him
fairy stories until dinner time, to the
utter neglect Of the undarned stock
ings and the torn skirt.
All that day Mabel felt strangely
anxious and restless whenever Trot.
tie was out OF her sight. But by the
next morning common-sense had
gotten the better uf Imagination,
and, absorbed in her everyday duties,
she allowed him to play with the 9th.
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