New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1886-06-02
STOLEN FROM THE FORT.

An EX.COnVlctln the Hartford Lines.
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 bleak and ugly bit OF Mon
tana prairie, cut off from its parent
wilderness only by some rough defens-
ses and two rows of sufficiently i'll
fbuilt quarters.
Mabel Heriot, sitting in small porch
lin front of her husbands quarters,
sher fingers busy with some large darns
in a pair of scarlet stockings, turned
her pretty, discontinued eyes, more
often than was good for the progress
>of her work, to another pair ofscarlet
stockings which fashsd 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 3 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 cheer
tful self-confdence which filled his
another with mingled admiration and
rregret.
Life had been very easy-no cares,
mo responsibilities, no anxieties-
swhile everything a girl could desire Of
Sluxury, amusement and admiration
>had been showered upon her as the
adopted daughter of a wealthy and
generous, though rather tyrannical
uncle. It had ali been quite perfect
until she had danced with Tom Heriot
at West Point ball, read something
nm his blue eyes, heard something in
his pleasant voice, that stirred her
heart with the conviction that, charm
Ing as her life had seemed, it would
henceforward be very empty and
desolate If she must Danish those eyes
and that voice from ia conviction
strong enough to support her through
all the stormy scenes which followed
her uncle's bitter opposition to her
engagement to q penniless lieutenant;
strong enough to make her reply to
mis- final declaration that she must
choose between her lover and him by
fputting her hand in 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 at a more uproarious
shout than usual from the children,
and she saw Trottie cantering toward
her astride of stick, while half the
5pleats of his killed skirt trailed be-
!; hind him. ooh, what boy' she
a,cried, rising to catch him as he passed.
An old Indian woman, with a basket
sful of beadwork strapped to her back,
*.stood gazing at the mother and child,
with look OF yearning sorrow in her
eyes, which half touched, half frightened
Mabel. "What do you want?" 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
so 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
endurance could not subdue, she
eblasped both hands before her face
and sank on her knees, shaking with
sobs which she still struggled tosilence.
The tears filled Mabel's 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 a woman's sympathy.
But no doubts troubled Trottie.
Grief was evident in every line OF the
4bent, trembling figure, and for every
grief in his experience there was one
remedy sure and unfailing. Heapplied
1t at once.
''Not cry any more!" he said in his
cheerful little voice. and kissed the
only bit OF brown cheek which hel
,~clasped hands left visible.
She turned as though she would
shave flung her arms about him, but
Mabel had clasped her boy fast, with
"a sudden terror, sharp though indie
afnable.
The Indian rose slowly, her face re
covering it's usual calm as she did so
'Pretty boy very good to me; white
mother not afraid me hurt him." sht
said, and walked away with a gray,
dignity which brought a shamed color
/. to Mabel's face.
She stepped forward with an i'm
spulse to say something kind, bu
spaused with q smile at herself, hal
shy, half amused. What could sh
SAY of consolation that an Indian
woman would understand, whose re
sligious faith was probably even NOR
vague than her knowledge OF English
. a.. 4 t. C.. -,