The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1890-03-13

SDCIhS pu liO 4AciiSOiis tiiN 'S''
and anxious were the hours of dark
ness, early the start, eager the hope
to get on without the attack. Each man
would muttcr in the gray dawn, as hag-
gard and white, he harnessed his team,
THANK God, another night Of peace, nc
Indians yet"
'Janet." said Chase one morning,
when she came to watch him harness his
team, "cf them Injuns comes an gifts
the better O. us you git on that ere leetle
gray pony, Nance, thar, an take Rose
an set out fur them low hills cross
thar"
Nance likes me-" smiled Janet, 81
feed her my Eread."
"!All of lis like We, ye Maverick, yer 50
clipper allus," Chase said. admiringly.
"The Injuns shan't git yc CT we kin help
it."
That day a young wife was sick, and
all the long hours Janet tended the wall
ing baby its mother was too i'll to care
for. She looked back at the line of
wagons and thought of baby Rose, that
she loved best of ali.
"Those good little Pixies will see to
her." she thought, hopefully. Bat the
two little Pixies were weary that day
they lay in a strange stupor, those pa
thetic guardians and no one noted
them. Locked in each others arms they
lay unheeded, and one was drifting away
beyond earthly aid.
At the night halt Janet, freed from
her charge, ran for Rose. Then the news
flew from wagon to wagon, the child was
gore and no one had seen her all day.
Miss Reed remembered seeing her run
ming among the sunfowers at breakfast
time.
"Ain't nobody going for herr" cried
Janet, in agony. She ran to each wagon,
to be met with the same answer: sit
cannot be done"
sYou see, Janet said Chase, n sob in
his voice, "there's fifty women an chill
dren here an only thirty men to guard
'em; there may be hundreds of Injuns out
there. We daren't leave camp or they'll
know it, an we've searched all the plains
with q glass an there's no sign of
her."
"But ter-morrer---" choked Janet.
"She'l not be a-wanderin', missy
don't arsk me to tell ye, but there's In
juns an peraric wolves"
"We must only tell her father she
the whole truth" said Miss
Reed, coming to the wagon for her rub
bers, which she wore on the dryest
nights.
Chase walked away and sat down by the
fire. "No, don't talk no more, Janet, !"
as the child went to him, ''it aren't no
use. I'm the only old Injun fighter in
camp. I've growed gray at it. I've got
ter take the lead"
Janet went quickly to her wagon. BY
the light of fickering candle she
printed, in a round, childish hand, on a
bit of paper, these few words:
Mr.. Chase, I am goin' to find Rose an
take Nance. amt no good in fightin' Injuns,
an I heard you say my folks was dead
Don't you come for me cause they need you.
They don't me that is only Maverick.
JANET"
She pinned this note to his blanket,
then went softly ont in the starlight to
the corner where Nance stood. Fear
lessly she blanketed the animal, fastened
the surcingle, then led her quietly out to
an open space between two wagons.
She looked back at the dying camp
fires, the groups of men sleeping in the
light of them, their guns by their sides,
the silhouettes of the women against the
wagon curtains, Miss Reeds prim and
queer with the funny curls. How safe
it was here, how lonely and dreadful
outside! She climbed on the pony and
turned her head toward the east; the
animal, thinking of her home, struck into
d run. The seminal saw Nance disap-
pear in the darkness, but did not note
the little rider.
"That onery gray pony as aint been
worked all the way hey got loose an
gone" he said to the crowd of excited
men who ran out at the noise.
Every unusual rattling of gravel under
Nance's hoofs quickened the beating of
Janet's heart; every dark object was to
her beast of prey; every sound, the
coming of the red men. She thought of
the old-time stories of Indian warfare
and cruelty her grandmother had told
her. Of the horrors of the plains the men
spoke of by the camp-fres.
"But I'm the only one in all that train
as hasn't anybody to care far-iHqqeer -iqqeer1-ssJhe = -sshe-
ssid s;i5l, 4 rDrsvefy:-rThere was only me to
be spared"
When the moon rose it showed her no
living object on the great plains. The
camp was far out of vision. and not even
a spark from its fires glimnered on the
still air. Absolute quiet and solitude;
the world seemed asleep.
At the top of little rise in the road
Janet halted to rest her tired horse, and
once more to look around the lonely
land. The quivering of Nance startled
her, and peering ahead, Janet saw sight
she never afterward forgot.
There in the moonlit road stood baby
Rose, her yellow curls dishevelled, her
face tear-staincd and dirty, her gown
torn. her little feet bare and bleeding.
She still clung to her flowers that had led
her astray long hours before.
Near the chilt. a lean gray wolf sat on
his launches, regarding her with 4 pro-
found and melancholy stare.
At the sight of the pony the wolf gave
a weird howl, turned and trotted swiftly
across the plains. The child, with wild
cry, ran forward.
II knew you'd tum, jamie. l lost all