The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1888-03-22

miles distant, and you see not
speck; but i'll minute, as if it rose
from the earth, an army is upon you,
and you hear that shrill Allah"
from north, south, east and west, till
your ears are deafened."
''The soldiers mnst rest, Gen. Beau
pre- repeated. ''Of course there's 10
protection left in these shattered walls;
but post sentries at every weak point.
/ have no fear of an attack Tonight,
or before we leave here"
1t was black, starless night. The
moaning of the wind as it swept over
the desert sand, and the clouaeh skies,
betokened one of those rare tempests
which occasionally visit the African
desert.
Jules, with his love of the outer air,
had laid himself down near one of
the breaches in the dismantled wall,
before which a sentinel was monoton-
ously pacing. The cool, green sward
was pleasant, and, as he lay there, he
thought over the events of the day.
He had been frightened, oh, horri-
bly, frightened, when the fighting be-
gan, but he remembered what his
colonel had said to him, about his
drum having a voice. Aud then his
arm grew stronger, and his drum
seemed to say to him. ''Be brave, jules!
Shame on n cowardl'
All at once the fear left him, and he
felt as bold ms any of his comrades.
And it was his dear drums doing.
AS Jules thought that, he drew his
drum toward him and actually Rugged
and kissed 1t. Perhaps there was Il
good spirit in it. The Vendeans have
many superstitiOns, and among them
the existence of good or evil spirits in
inanimate objects, and as far as super
stition went, Jules was a true peasant
of La V Vendee.
Then his thoughts took him back
home. He saw the interior of the
cottage; his father smoking his pipe,
his mother mending by the freight,
his brother, ''grand JEAN" coming in
from the stable and cow-vard, and
Pierre and little Louise playing on the
wide hearth. Yes, they were all there
but himself, and he could see his
mothers eyes full of sadness for her
poor little soldier-bOy.
He closed his eyes, for tears were
streaming down his cheeks.
He was startled by a strange, muf-
fled sound Just outside the breach in
the wall. He raised himself on his
elbow and looked out, but he could no
longer distinguish the figure of the
sentry pacing his rounds. There was
not much light, though the clouds
were dispensing, but, as he strained
his eyes through the gloom, he could
make out several dusky figures steal
ing through the breach, and with a
quick heart-throb he understood that
the sentry had been killed, and the
Arabs would surprise the camp.
fhe uttered cry it would be too
feeble to be heard by those heavy
sleepers, and it would bring the Arabs
upon him in a second.
Again the old panic seized him. and
he crouched down in the long grass
and weeds. When the Arabs had
passed him it would be easy enough
to make his escape and reioin the main
army, he thought; but then, could he,
a French soldier, fly and leave his
comrades to be massacred without an
attempt to warn them"
Numberless dark forms glided swift
riy by him. In a few moments they
would be upon the sleepers.
Suddenly his coloners words came
back to him, "a coward is a traitorn
All, never shall he say that of Jules!
He must die! Farewell. mother, father,
brothers and sisters, but he will not
die a cowardi
With a firm hand he drew his hand
toward him, and then, upon the ST.
lence of the night, pealed forth the
warning roll. He beat his drum mad
ly, fiercely, with the strength of ten
men, but all at once it ceased, for an
Arab lance had pierced the little drum
mer's heart.
But the work was done. The alarm
had been given in time, and the Arabs
found no sleeping foe to massacre.
The fight was fierce but short one,
and as usual the French were victori-
Gus.
Where is Jules?" asked Col. Haute-
court eagerly. That boy has been
our salvation. Bring him to me that
I may thank him. Gel! how the lit
tie fellow did beat that drum! 1t
sounded in my ears like the last
trump"
ut was the last trump to him mon
colonel said one of the soldiers,
though it did save US. We found
him dead on one side of the breach
where the savages entered, his hand
on his drum. It was easy to read,
that story was. He saw the Arabs
steal in, and the only way to warn
was by the drum. He beat 1t, though
he knew he was beating his own dirge.
An. he was brave. our little drummer"
Col. Hautecourt turned aside. for,
daring soldier as he was, he did not
choose his men should see the tears IN
his eyes.
In his native village you may still
hear the story how the little drummer
saved his camp. Col. Hautecourt
erected memorial pillar to him in
the village square, telling in few words,
how and where he died; and, while
they lived, the old father and mother
would gaze at it with dim eyes; ii
seemed to them a message from the
dead
1t was as if he said, "Weep not, for
it is glorous to die as ] did, to save
others. ."-MGrie B. TViItiGnlS, an Youths
Companion.