Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-02-07
THE CRILD'S CRY.
A Curious Story Told by Resident on a
Western Prairie.

A Curious Story Told by Resident on
Western Prairie.
My name is Anthony Hunt. I am
| drover. and live miles and miles away up
on the Western prairies. There wasn't
| house in sight when 1 first moved the Y
my wife and 1, and now We have no many
neighbors, though those we have are COOS
ones. One day about ten years ago
went away TO sell my fifty head of cattle
| fine creatures as / ever saw. l was to buy
some groceries and dry goods before
came back, aud above all doll for my
| yOungest-Dolly. She had never had q
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 call after
me to get big one. Nobody but a par
ent can understand how full my min !
was Of that toy, and when the cattle were
sold the first thing 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 it under my arm,
while l had the parcels of calico and de-
laine and sugar done up. Then, late as it
was, / started for home. 1t might have
been more pradent TO stay until morning
but felt anxious to get back and eager
to hear DolIy's praises about her doll.
was mounted on a steady going old
horse and pretty well loaded. Night set
in before l was a mile from town, and
settled down as dark as pitch while I wa,
In the middle of the darkest bit of road I
know of. I could have felt my own way
though | remembered it 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 1 could, but all of a
sudden l heard a little cry like child's
voice. l stopped short and listened-I
heard it again. I 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 l began to wonder. I'm not timid,
but was known to be a drover, and to
have money about me. IL might be a
trap to catch me unawares and rob and
murder me. l am not superstitious-not
very; but how could real child be oct
Oh the prairie in such night, at such an
hour? The bit of a coward that hides
itself in most men showed itself in me
them; but once more / heard the cry, and
said I:
eff any mans child is hereabouts An
thony Hunt is not the man to let it die"
I searched again. AT last Ibethought
me of hollow under the hill and CROPPED
that way. Sure enough I found a little
dripping thing that moaned and sobbed
rs l took it in my arms. called my
horse and the beast came to noe and 1
mounted and took the little soaked thing
under my coat as well as l could, promis
ing to take it home to mamma. 1t was so
tired, and pretty soon cried self TO
sleep on my bosom. It had slept there a
little over an hour when l saw my own
windows. There were lights in them and
sup posed my wife had Ii GIFTED them for
my sake, but when I got TO the doorway
saw something was the Catter and
stood still with dread fear OF heart five
minutes before could lift the latch. At
last I did, and I 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, sit will
kill him."
"What is it, neighbors ?" cried.
Nothing new, 1 hope. What's that
you have in your arms?"
"a poor lost child" said J 81 found it
on the road. Take 1t, Will you? I'm
faint" And 1 lifted the sleeping thing
and saw the face of my own child, my
Dolly.
It was my own darling, and none other,
that had picked up on the drenched
road. My 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. / thanked
heaven on my Bonded knees before them.
1t is not much of story, ne1ghbors, but
[ think of it often in the nights and won
der how l could bear to live now i'll had not
stopped when heard the cry for help
upon the road, hardly louder than
squirrels chirp. That's Dolly yonder
with her mother in the meadow, a girl
worth saving L think (but then I'm her
father, and partial, may be), the pref
test and sweetest thing this side of the
Mississippi.