St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1888-12-10
A CHILD'S CRY.
A Curious Story Told by a Prairie
DrOver.

San Francisco Call.
My name is Anthony Hunt. [ am a
drover, and live miles and miles away
upon the Western prairie. There wasn't
house in sight when L first moved
there, my wife and |, and now we have
not many neighbors, though those we
have are good ones. One day about ten
years ago | went away from home to
sell my fifty head of cattle-fine Great
ureS as | ever saw. l was to buy some
groceries and dry goods before l came
yOungeSt-DOlly. She had never had
store doll of her own-only rag babies
her mother had made her.
Dolly could talk of nothing else, and
went down to the very gate to call after
me to get a big one. Nobody but par
ent can understand how full my mind
was of that toy, and now, when the
cattle were sold, the first thing hur-
ried off to buy was Dolly's doll. L
found large one with eyes that would
open and shut when you pulled wire,
and had it wrapped up in paper and
tucked it under my arm, while | had
the parcels of calico and delaine and
tea and sugar put up. Then, late as it
was, started for home. 1t might have
been more prudent to stay until MORN
ing, but | felt anxious to get back and
eager to hear Dolly'S praise about her
doll.
l was mounted on steady-going old
horse and pretty well loaded. Night set
in before | was mile from town, and
settled down dark as pitch while | was
in the middle of the darkest bit of road
| knew of. l could have felt my way,
though. | remembered it so we'll; and
when the storm that had been brewing
broke, and pelted the rain in torrents.
was five miles Or maybe six miles from
home
i rode as fast as I could, but all of
sudden | heard little cry like child's
voice. stopped short and listened-I
heard it again. called and it answered
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 an
swered. Then l began to wonder. I'm
not timid,- but L was known to be a
drOver, and to have money about me.
1t might be a trap to catch me un-
awareS and rob and murder me. | am
not superstitious-n not very; but how
could real child be out on the prairie
in such a night, at such an hour? 1t
might be more than human. The bit of
a coward that hides itself IN most men
showed itself to me then; but once
more | heard the cry, and said L:
''lf any mans child is hereabouts,
Anthony Hunt is not the man to let it
de-"
L searched again. AT last bethought
me of a hollow under the hill, and
CROPPED that way. Sure enough found
little dripping thing, that moaned and
sobbed as | took it in my arms.
called my horse and the beast came to
me, and | mounted and tucked the
little soaked thing under my coat as
well as | 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 own windows.
There were lights in them, and | sup
posed my wife had lit them for my
sake; but when l got to the doorway
saw something was the matter, and
stood still with dread fear of heart
five minutes before [ could lift the
latch. At last | did it, and | saw the
room full of neighbOrS, and my wife
among them weeping.
When she saw me she hid her face.
''Oh, don't tell him." she said, lit
will kill him."
,"What is it, neighbors,"I cried.
Nothing now, L h0pe-WhatS that
you have in your arms"'
"a poor lost child" said /; ST found
it on the road. Take it, will you? Eve
turned faint" And lifted the sleep
ing thing and saw the face of my own
child, my Dolly.
1t was my own darling, and none
other, that l had picked up on the
drenched road. My little child had
wandered out to meet papa and the doll,
while the mother was at work, and they
were lamenting her as one dead.
thanked heaven on my Bonded knees
before them. 1t is not much of story,
neighbors, but L think of it often in the
nights, and wonder howl could bear to
live now if / had not stopped when |
heard the cry for help upon the road,
hardly louder than a squirrels chirp.
That's Dolly, yonder with her mother
in the meadow. girl worth saying--I
think (but then Pm her father, and par
tial, maybe,) the prettiest and sweetest
thing this side of the Mississippi.
A CONVINCING ARGUMENT.
A Massachusetts, Lawyer Who
yUo- :, Cncn