San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-01-22

therefore possible to strike for it direct, in
stead of following back the bloodstained trail
Of the fugitives, and to cover, in some sixteen
hours of march, distance which their per-
tHrbed wanderings had extended over more
than sixty.
Our boats we left under guard upon the
river; it was, indeed, probable we should re-
turn to find them frozen fast; and the small
equipment with which we set forth upon the
expedition, included not only an infnity of
furs to protect US from the cold, but an al.
senal Of snow shoes to render travel possible,
when the inevitable snow should fall Con-
siderable alarm was manifested at our do
parture, the march was conducted with sol
dierly precaution, tho camp at night sedulousE
chosen and patroled; and it was a considera-
zion Of this sort that arrested us, the second
day, within not many hundred yards of our
destinatiOn-the night being already immi-
nent, the spot in which we stood well quail
fed to be strong camp for a party of our
numbers; and Sir William, therefore, on a
sudden thought, arresting our advance.
Before us was the high range Of mountains
toward which we had been all day OBVIOUSLY
drawing near. Prom the first light of the
dawn, their silver peaks had been the goal Of
our advance across a tumbled lowland forest
third with rough streams, and strewn with
monstrous powders; tho peaks las say sill
YER, for already at the higher attitudes the
snow fell nightly; but the woods and the low
ground only breathed upon with frost All
day heaven bad been charged with ugly va
pors, In which the sun swan and glimnsred
like shilling piece; all day the wind blew
on our left check barbarous cold. but very
pure to breathe. With the end of the after
noon, however, the wind fell; the clouds, be-
ing no longer REINFORCED, were scattered or
drunk up; the sun set behind us with some
wlntry splendOr, and the white brow Of the
mountains shared it's dying glow
1t was dark ere we had supper; we eat in
silence, and the meal was scarce dispatched
before my lord skunk from the freside to the
margin of the camp, whittier l made haste
to follow him. The camp was ON high
ground, overlooking frozen lake. perhaps a
mile In its longest measurement: all about us
the forest lay in heights and hollows; above
rose the white mountains, and higher yet,
the moon rode in a fair sky. There was no
breath OF air; nowhere a twig creakod, and
the sounds of our own camp were huShed and
swallowed up in the surrounding stiffness.
Now that the sun and the wind were both
gone down, it appeared almost warm, like a
night % July; singular illusion Of tho sense,
when earth, AIR and water weTs ssrsiaed to
bursting wish the extremity of frost
Ny lord tor what | still ooatinued to can
BY his loved namss stood with his elbow in
one hand, and his chin sunk in the other, gay
ing before him Ga shs surface Of tho wood
Ny eyes followed his, and rested almost pleas
antly upon the frosted conjecture Of the
pines, rising in moonlit hillocks, or sinking ia
the shadow OF small glens. Hard BY. | told
myself, was the grave Of our enemy, now
gone where tho wicked cease from troubling
the earth heaped forever on his once 50 active
limbs. L could not but think Of him as some
how fortunate TO DO thus done with mans |
anxiety and WEAKNESS, the daily expense Of
5 ut, and that daily river of circumstance |
to be swHm through, at any hazard. under the |
penalty of shame or death | could not but |
think hot good was the end Of that long travel.
and with that my mind swung at a tangent |
TO my lord. For was not my lord dead also. |
A manned soldier, looking vainly for dis |
charge, lingering derided in the line of bat |
tie! A kind man | remembered him; wise, !
with decent pride, son perhaps too duti. |
ful, husband only too loving, one that could |
suffer and be silent, one whose hand | loved |
TO press. OF sudden, pity caught in my
with sob; | could have went
aloud to remember and behold him; and
Standing thus by his elbow, under the broad
moon, l prayed fervently either that he
should be released or strengthened to per
'ist in my affection.
"Oh, God" said l, this was the best man
o me and to himself, and now l shrink from
him He did no wrong, or not till be was
broke with sorrows; these are but his honor
sbIe wounds that we begin to shrink from.
Oh, cover them up; oh, take him away, be-
ore we hate him."
! vas still 50 engaged. in my own bosom