The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1891-09-26

ten when that cry: ".Ths fadians n,
upon U.s." smote my ear.
Well, death had come to some, an
some were missing, carried off f b
killed more barbarously. to be torture,
before they died. My Ralph was anon,
these-my Ralph. But many Indian
lay dead also. and they had bee
bravely withstood, and had the wors
of it in numbers slain, as my fathe
said. All the village was in grief, 70
we were like n great family. bu
each mourns his own. ! mourne,
Ralph-my Ralph. There was no hop
of mercy, as the day had gone. The!
had left too many braves upon tn
ground TO spare their prisoners, ant
yet it seemed to me, day by day, houl
by hour, for a long while, as though
Ralph might return. Not a figure cam,
along the prairie or over the brow o
the hill but | fancied it was he, until a
last despair seized upon me.
Oh, I leave II 10 those who have suf
fcred as I did TO know what felt then
As for others 10 whom such grief ha.
never como, they cannot understand
God grant they never may. And while
cur hearts break the years go or al
| the while, and the skies are blue, ant
che spring flowers bloom.
How many Moons grew full anG
waned? How many dark nights through
which l wept necessarily? How many
harvcsts were gathered? How many
| 4in,cS iid ,,p Hou-ar. eor;,r /. L.
the young grass, and the winter come
with its SHOWS and sleet-storms:
Enough to make my elder sisters little
daughter seventeen years of age-she
was but ten on my wedding day-and
to bring her TO her own marriage eve.
There had been weddings, of course,
but not in our own family, and | had
been to none; but now I must go to
Annie's. The settlement was larger;
the safety greater. The men were
never without their guns, but they had
had no reason to use them for some
time. Did they know how the memo
rics trooped upon me all that time
when they were making little Annie's
wedding clothes and talking of her
happiness? Just SO they talked of mine
seven years before-seven years before.
/ had put on a black dress and a
widows cap when l gave up all hope
hat Ralph was living. and nothing
else seemed right for me to wear. My
heart within me was like a lump of
lead, but | said nothing. Only, as /
climbed the hill with the rest. I said to
myself: "Ah! if they only came here.
following me in my coffin. with my
hands crossed upon my heart and that
heart n; rest. beating no more. aching
no more-broken, not breaking, at
last And ever in my ears l heard the
words: Ralph is dead. Your Ralph
is dead"
Aud could l be the same woman who
climbed the hill with my hand in his.
and my bride dress over my arm, and
the white rose in my bosom2 So hap
py! So happy! oh, SO happy! Could
it be Ia thing with a lump OF lead for
n heart and no hope of happiness
while she lived? And Annie went on
before us on her bridegroom's arm,
just as ! wen on that past day, and
we followed her into the church. The
ministers daughters were mostly
grown, but there they were. There
was their mother, not as much altered
as they. There was the good parson
himself, with the great scar across his
check that he had worn since the day
he married me. Outside were the
graves of the men murdered on nv
wedding day, and of one woman also
whom they found dead in her dead hus-
bands arms.
1t was only what I thought Of every
Sunday, after all, and the parson be-
gan his service, and the words were
said that made those twain one, and
we had gathered about the bride, when
suddenly the shadow of an Indian in
his blanket fell upon the wall behind
the low pulpit, and every head turned.
An Indian stood there, his blanket
drawn across his face, but about him
he wore tine tokens of peace and
friendly intention. and he made a kind
ly gesture with his hand and knelt as
though in prayer, covering his face yet
more with his blanket.
But redskins are treacherous The
ran TO the door, but saw nothing
TO alarm them. The brides color had
all gone. As for me. l expected every
moment to hear the hideous war
whoop.
The men, each with his gun in his
hand, cncircled the kneeling Indian.
He arose then, and his eyes looked into
theirs.
Il am alone" he said. mo one
comes with me; and / come in love, not
in hate"
''You do not speak like an Indian"
said my father.
Il nave lived with white men; / have
learned their speoch," replied the Iu-
dian. Have no fear. / swear there
is no treachery."
He speaks the truth" said my
He held out his hand The Indian
yrasped it.
Yet he vas an Indian, and we had no
reason to do aught but hate his kind.
And now we were on our homeward
way, and ] fingered a little to shed a
ear. and suddenly / saw the Indian at
ny side. His eyes only were visible
inder his blanket |
You wear black clothes, squaw," he |
aid. "Whv do you not wear white and
blue and pink like the others?"
because seven years ago the Indians
iilled my husband, and / am a widow"
said.
But you are pretty" the mau said.
Some other man should have made
'ou his wife"
These are things not to be talked
f." l said "Ah, how do I know but
are one of his murderers!"
He shook his head.
did you see the Indian who killed
Iim2' he asked.
/ answered him rudely and fiercely
"No-but you are all alike. They
orc him away TO torture by fire and
'oisoned srrows. Oh. my Rslphl my