Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1888-06-03
THE MYSTERIOUS PICKET.
He Counted Nine, Was ono Short, bu
Filled Up with Dagger

He Counted Nine, Was one Short, but
Filled Up with . Dagger
Detroit Fee Press
As the sun went down and darkness be.
gan to creep over the face of the earth, the
angry artillery died away and the crackle
of musketry was less spitefal. For while
the fighting on the extreme right hung on
to settle the question of who should occupy
the old earthworks, but at length dead
silence fell upon the whole field.
Silence? Mop 1t was silence compared
to the awful roar of the long afternoon,
but it was silence broken by the screams
and groans and prayers Of wounded men
by the movements of wagons and artillery
by the sabdued voices Of rs, coo men as
they camped for the night without fire and
anxiously debated the chances for the
morrow.
The Sergeant marches off to the left al
the head of half dozen men. He drops a
man at Post No. l" and gives him whis-
pered instruction. Ii is the same at posts
2, 3, 4, etc, until the last man has been
stationed.
There must be vigilsnt, wakefal men be-
tween friends and foe while the long night
wears away.
Post No 6" is under great beach tree.
Shot and shell have SCARED and riven it's
trunk and shot and shell have scattered
and riven it's thick limbs. A quarter Of
a century hence this tree will bear witness
to the terrible struggle of to-day.
From this tree to the edge Of that
thicket, and the countersign is Justice, ,"
whispered the Sergeant, and as he passes
on the picket takes up his beat. He counts
as he passes them by-one, two, three,
four, five, six, seven, eight. What
CorpSes! They are lying on the grass SC
near the path hatrsvels that he can touch
any of them with his foot. There are
theirs to the right and left, further away
| II was here that the enemy charged bat
tery-here our forces rallied to preserve it
| Grapeshot and canister, bullet and Bayonet
found victims here. Some lay as ifasleep
worn out with the tremendous conflict
others raved and prayed and cursed Goo
and man before death released them from
their sufferings.
The picket counts them as he walks, ant
a sigh escapes his lips. Tomorrow nigh
some sentinel may number his mutilatet
corpse with others on the same meadow
To morrow night the autumn winds may
vainly seek to rouse him from his deatl
sleep.
From tree to thicket and turn. From
thicket to tree and turn. He must watct
and listen and be on his guard, but by an(
by he finds time TO count again. One
two-three-four-f Ve-six-sevene igh
nine! What! He counted only eigh
before! Was he mistaken, or can the deat
of the battlefield creep and crawl? Six
seven-eight-nipe Yes, there are nine
In the darkness he had made q mistake
Ninel Well, what matters one more O.
one less corpse upon battlefield.
To the tree and turn. To the thicke
and turn. As he heads for the tree agaiI
the ninth corpse assumes a sitting position
and looks after him. 4 moment later i
struggles up and figure goes creepinI
after the picket. The grass in the meadow
is thick and matted. His footballs give
out no sound. Softly softly-silent a
the shadow of death-creeping-cre creeping
and now he is close upon the lone picket
There is q CLEAN of steel in the darkness
a swift and powerful blow, and he VIII
was placed to watch will watch no more
Through the gaps the spies will pour il
and skulk about the camps; regimen
will be silently advanced to the key posi-
ton; the ghouls will scent plumber ant
creep up TO rob the dead.
The picket had counted, "seven-eigh
-ninem
There is no missing corpse. The mum
Der has been made good