The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1889-01-23
THE CHILDS CRY.
A Curious Story Told by a Resident
on a Western Prairie.
From the San Francisco Call

From the San Francisco Call.
Nv name is Anthony Hunt. l am a
drover. and live miles and miles away upon
the western prairies. There wasn't house
in sight when l first moved there, my wife
and /, and now we have not many neigh
bors, 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 creatures as ever saw. was to buy
some groceries and dry goods before came
back, and above all doll tor my youngest
Dolly. She had never had a 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 cali after me to get
a big one. Nobody buta parent can under
stand how full my MUD was of that toy,
and when the cattle were sold the first thing
l hurried off to buy was Dolly's doll. |
found a large one with eyes that would open
and shut when you pulled wire, and had
it wrapped up in paper and tucked 1t under
my arm, while had the parcels of calico
and delaine and tea and sugar put 40.
Then, late as it was, | started for home. IL
might have been more prudent to stay until
morning, but | felt anxious to get back
and eager to hear Doily's praises ABOUT her
doll.
| was mounted on a steady-going old
horse and pretty well loaded. Night set in
before was mile from town, and settled
down as dark as pitch while | was in the
middle Of the darkest bit of road | know Of.
| could have felt my way, though, | re-
memberei 1t so well; and when the storm
that had been brewing broke and pelted the
rain in torrents | was five miles or may be
six miles from home.
rode as fast as | could, but all of a sud
den heard a little cry like cnild's voice.
| stopped short and lstened-I heard it
again. called and it answered me. |
couldn't see thing. All was dark as pitch.
got down and felt around in the grass
called again, and again was answered.
Then | began to wonder. I'm not timid,
but was known to be a drover, and to
have money about me. 1t might be a trap
to catch me unawares and rob and murder
me- | am not uperstitious-not very; but
how could real child be out on the prai-
RE such night, at such an hour? 1t might
be more than human. The bit of coward
that hides itself in most men showed itself
in me then; but once more heard the cry,
and said |:
IF any mans child is hereabouts Anthony
Hunt is not the man to let it die"
searched again. At last bethought
me OF hollow under the hill and CROPPED
that way. Sure enough l 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 l could, promising to take 1T
home to mamma. 1t seemed SO tired, and
pretty soon cried itself to sleep on nv
bosom. 1t had slept there little over an
hour when [ saw my own windows. There
were lights in them, and | supposed my
wife had lighted 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; ut will kill
him.
what is it, neighbors" I cried.
Nothing new, 1 hope-whaU's that you
have in your armsE
"A poor lost child" said /; 81 found it on
the road. Take it, will you3 I've turned
faint" And l lifted the sleeping thing and
saw the face of my own child, my Dolly.
1t was my own darling, and none other,
| that | had picked up on the drsnche1 road.
| Ny 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. l thanked heaven on my Bonded
knees before them. 1t is not much of "a
story, neighbors, but | think of it often in
the nights, and wonder how could bear to
| live if | had not stopped when | heard the
| cry for help upon the road hardly louder
than a squirrels c1irp. That's Dolly yon-
| der with her mother in the meadow, a girl
worth saving, | thinl (hut then I'm her
| father and partial, may be), the prettiest
| and sweetest thing this side of the MiSsis-
| slppi.