The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1889-03-08
SELECT STORY.
MARKS ON THE PRAIRIE.

L
a horses skull and a babys shoe
Their story' This:
Early morning, May morning in
Kansas. Over all the land a silvery
mist, palpable dewiness, a delicious
freshness, the peculiarly rich and sub.
tie scent of freshly turned earth, much
of it being soil "broke' for the first
time A proud and prosperous young
meadow lark poised upon fencing
post, a spruce young meadow lark in
gray coat, yellow vest and black era
vat pours out series of tremulous
triple notes, roundelay to the little
mother cuddllng her eggs in the
springlng prairie grasses. The mist
begins to rise. Upward, still higher,
one marvellous scroll it curls, revealing
the pallid primrose of the eastern sky.
And now the vapory veil is quite
withdrawn, and all the soft rose fires
heralding the king kindle into bril-
lance behind the bluffs. Lighter and
brighter it grows. Fraught with pro-
mise is all that CLEAN and glow. Be
hold. the promise is fulfilled! Up rises
a golden line which swells into a
curve, a semicircle, huge, dazzling,
binding ball of flame. Up and upl
A thrush from its nest in cottonwood
lifts its voice in jubilsnt mathis,
which are chimed in upon by the brisk
bravuras of a rival robin.
Men and horses appear in the fields;
| plows are hauled out; the work of the
day begins. In the phrase of the
Kansas farmer, at is sun up"
Having numbered through the tiny
town which lies upon the state line
separating Kansas from Nebraska,
crossed the railway track and brand
new bridge, up a steep bluff worn into
deep ruts by the daily passage of wa
gons laden with stone TO be shipped
farther west, comes slowly and heavily
that most familiar of western sights. a
prairie schooner. Ponderously plod
the horses up the ascent; clumsiy
lurches along the level attained the
great white canvased wagon. Unlike
the ordinary emigrant outfit in some
respects, this. To be sure, evidences
Of habitation bulge from the interior,
and chairs, stove, broom, with various
household utensils, are tied on behind.
But there are no cows, no dogs, no
scrubby ponies bestridden by bare-leg-
ged boys. OF the thousands of wa
gons which trunde yearly over the
western prairies this presents parti-
cularly lonely appearance. Whoever
saw one without childrens Children
of all ages, tow headed, brown skin
ned, healthy, hearty children, includ-
ing the. inevitable baby staring solemn
ly from the clasping mothers arms.
Perhaps you may have seen some day,
Roses crowding the selfsame way,
| Out of a wilding way side bush.
The driver whose broad back OBJ
scures the light OF the front arch,
turns in his seat, and glances into the
comparative gloom OF the interior.
GLOW is she, Corry?'
"Asleep."
| The woman within--a young wo-
man with pretty, pale, sad facr--di-
rects his attention by glance to the
baby in her lap. He nods-draws up
the horses by the side of the road.
"Dou't you STIR he says. He de
scends, unhitches the horses, finds
twigs, builds fire, goes to the near
est farm house for wafer, and comes
back with full kettle, which he sus-
pends over the blaze by couple of
crooked sticks. Soon the smell of siz-
zling bacon and boiling coffee become
appetizingly apparent. Then he goes
o the wagon. His wife lays the child
gently down; alights. He notices that
she is white. "Air you sick'' he asks,
quickly.
mo, no" she murmurs. But quite
suddenly she sways and falls forward
into his arms. The journey, the
rough, strange life, the variable
weather, the exposure, all have been
too much, he decides, for one delicate
ly reared as she. When she revives
he insists they shall proceed no farther
for few days, perhaps no. tor few
weeks. About fifty yards from the
road is little deserted "dugout" 4"
Some distar ce from it new frame
house testifes to the prosperity of the
former occupants. From them the
campers obtain permission to take
temporary possession of the queer little
cabin. The whole interior consists OF
one room, and that room 10 feet by IL.
To enter it is necessary to descend
se' eral rough steps The walls and
floor are of earth just as when dug,
quite unconcealed by board or plaster.
The sloping roof is of logs, irregular
in shape and length; these covered
with sod from the prairie. Here,
through the chsngeable weather of
May and into warm, beautiful June,
live the three, the woman protesting
all the time she is strong enough to 60
on, but growing gradually Trailer,
weaker. A complete contrast she and
her husband. He is tall, brawny,
handsome young fellow, animated by
intense admiration of his wife and
gentlest devotion to her, but unmis-
takably her inferior socially and intel
lectually. She, delicate, dreamy eyed,
wrapped up in her baby and her me
mOries to his almost utter exclusion.
One day the child sickens, grows vic.
leDtly i'll, dies. Her grief is silent,
but intense, She will neither eat nor
sleep; just sits still as stone in the little
"dug gont," and looks and stares at the
wee waxen thing which lies therein.
So, when her husband rides into town
to buy the little coffin, he calls in to
see the doctor and ask him to come
ont and visit his wife. AT sunset he
digs the grave-such small gravel
All around is isolation, prairie, sky.
The woman, crouching on the ground
near the dwelling, is the only other
mourner. The task done, be goes
down into tie "dugout," and comes up
again with the little nailed down box
in bis arms Tenderly he lowers il;
softly he lets fall upon it each shovel
iul of earth. He is blind with tears.
The fresh brown mound smoothed
nuar la f,nau mn IN hia uifa Sba