Southern standard. (McMinnville, Tenn.) 1879-current, 1891-05-30
The Cry in The Desk.

tlle dlleTnOOn-nO signs ndu DeeH
met with.
The ride had led over ground so
sterile that even sage>brush could
not grow there-across dry ravines
over outcrop of tlinty rock-from
one ridge to another, until at last we
came to the Loup River and went
into camp in scattered grove. No
sign of an Indian there. AS the set
ting sun flooded the earth with its
golden light we could see for miles
and miles in. every direction. No
sign Of danger.
Night comes down as softly as a
child closes its eyes in sleep and the
light breeze from the north brings a
film of white cloud to hide portion
of the stars. A sentinel is posted on
the bank of the stream, second on
the east, a third on the west. 1t
seems almost absurd to take these
precautions. The crickets sing un~
der the stones, field-mice, run about
in the grass, the waters of the Loup
sing peaceful song as they flow past
our camp.
No Indians-no signs. 1t is such
calm, quiet nights as this which have
lulled the tired emigrant to his last
sleep on earth. Seeing no Indians,
he has urged that none were lurking
and watching. We who have fought
the red man from Fort Kearhey to
the source of the Powder River know
him betterI The very absence of his
footprints is menace. The quiet
ness of the night is a warning to be
needed.
At ten o'clock everybody but the
sentinels is fast asleep. Some of the
horses are lying at full length, so
buried in s!umber that their heavy
breathing can be heard for yards
away. At eleven o'clock all is quiet.
Even the crickets have almost given
DER their noise. Fleecy clouds now
cover the whole heavens, making the
night no darker, but more uncertain.
As the eye looks off over the level
plain the shadows take on a different
shape and have more life.
Midnight! The three sentinels
softly enter camp, bend over the
sleepers, and five minutes later the
guard has been changed. Those who
slept are now as watchful as foxes;
those who watched are in the land OF
dreams.
Half-past twelve O'Clock Nc
sound now but the purling waters
and their monOtony would close the
eyes Of a sentinel who listened long
One o'clock Now there is the
quietness of a graveyard. Men and
horses seem to be dead. The senti
mel to the east gives a sudden start
He would deny it on his oath, bu
for an instant he slept He shake;
himself and looks over the camp
All is peace, but he has received a
shock which makes his heart bea
faster. His stand is at the foot of
cottonwood. He sinks down on hi
knees and peers out from either sid,
OF the trunk. Nothing in sight
nothing but the dark shadows cas-
by the clouds.
"Chirp Chirp Chirpw
A cricket begins his song agail
after long silence. 1t seems louc
enough to awake every sleeper, bu
it is not. 1t is very low and quiet
1t reaches the ear of only one sent
mel.
"Watch ! Watch Watch !"
His heart leaps to his mouth. TIL
words come to him as plain as
spoken by some human being
Watch what? Watch where? WatcI
for whom?
"Watch Watch! Watch :"
The sentinel's eyes fell upon darI
spot upon the ground hundred fee
away. tits the shadow of CLOUD
The danger spot in the centre is
rock lifting its head out of the eartl
He noticed it before the darkness
came. He can see nothing movin
there is no danger.
"Look Look Look !"
His heart jumps again and his eye
90 back to the dark spot. The
cling there for two or. three minute
during which time the cricket is al
solutely silent. Did something move
Is the black spot nearer than
was?
Creeping Creeping! Greer
ing"