Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1889-07-19
DOWN In THE GRASS.
BY WILL LISENBEE.

All night long the low summer wind
had famed the dewy grass, and stolen
with a subdued murmur around the rude
board structure that nestled in the high
grass on broad stretch of level prairie :;
and now a great luminous star which had
risen from the prairie sea, and from blue
waste of sky, shed it's white rays down on
the world beneath.
AS it rose higher in the heavens, its
feeble ray stole in at the open window of
the settlers cabin and touched the tangled
cloud of sunny hair that clustered about
the head of a little girl of ten years-the
only child of Amos Lee, the settler.
The Pickering light of small Ikero-
sene lamp shed its feeble rays around the
room, revealing rude bed at one end Of
the apartment, on which lay the form Of
a man, his face flushed with fever, his
eyes wandering vacantly about the room.
"Papa," said the child, bending over
the sick man, "you must have medicine
and a dOctor-What must [ do? What
can [ do??"
She clasped her little hands appeal
ingly and tear tricl1led down her white,
troubled face "Water! water!" cried
the sick man, gazing blankly about him.
The child hurried to the other end of
the room, and fetching some water in
tin cup, held it to the sick mans lips.
He drank the water eagerly, and sank
back on his pillow, where he lay quiet for
some time. Then he opened his eyes and
murmured:
''We must go way from hyar-they air
talkin' Nv hangin' me if I stay-and
mebby-mebby-w better be movin
for they'll come again. Hits hard ter
halter leave our own home-but-bu but"
His mutterings grew indistinct, and he
again closed his eyes.
ooh, papa! my dear papa" cried the
child, ''No one is going to hurt you'll
am here with you-shall [ go for doc
tor? Oh, papa! what must | do?" and
she buried her face in the bed clothes and
wept bitterly.
The father made no reply, save some
incoherent mutterings.
Presently the little girl arose and wiped
the tears from her eyes, a look of deter
mination on her young face. She then
took little straw hat from a peg on the
wall and placed it on her head. She APP
preached her father, and bending over
him, kissed his hot, feverish cheek.
''Papa," she murmured, her face close
to his, II am going for doctor-be good
and lie still till come back. I'll run all
the way"
She then turned and went out into the
night, and ran swiftly down the dim
prairie road, her little bare feet falling
noiselessly upon the damp, dewy ground
The nearest village, Neutral City, lay
five miles away, across a stretch of wild
unsettled prairie. Here the only doctor
in that part of the country resided, and
toward this place the little girl hurried.
She knew the road, having passed over it
before in the wagon with her father
<'It is not long till daylight. she
thought, as she hurried forward, glancing
about her, as if expecting to see some
surrounding darkness. Onward, along
the dim path, that lay across the great
stretch of prairie she fed, while the big
white star rose higher and higher in the
heavens; and the dewy breath of night,
laden with the perfume of sleeping flow
,ers, swayed the long grasses and rocked
the tops of the sumachs to and fro, as it
stirred their slender leaves into a
tremulous murmur.
The barking of coyote came from
afar across the prairie, and sent a cold
chill of fear through the child's heart ;
she increased her pace, running swiftly
along the narrow path, her breath coming
fast and hard, the long wet grass swirling
about her little bare feet.
Every bush or shadow was construed
into a ferocious animal; and the sudden
croaking of frog filed her with name
less terror.
Presently the road grew dim and indis-
tinct-she had travelled for miles-how
far she could not tell; but she was grow
ing tired and weak, and her steps came
slow and laborious.
ooh, it's so far-so far!" she cried.
her heart beating fast. ooh, papa,
papa"
She uttered low scream of terror and
half turned from the path; but it was
only night bird that few within a foot