Lawrence democrat. (Lawrenceburg, Tenn.) 1884-1925, 1891-12-11

dashed wildly on. Soon he came to a
place where the ascent was almost per-
pendicular, and where the heat was SO
sitting as almost to close his nostrils.
The way up was lined with cactus.
scrubs, whose spines pierced his hands
like red-hot needles when he graspcd
at something by which to haul himself
up. The little lizards that DARED into
the patches of shade seemed to mock
him, and his wistful gaze could be
torn from the canteen only when it
was absolutely necessary for him to
see his way clear.
"What is his thirst to miner" he
moaned, as for o fourth time he I'M
corked the canteen. HE is lying in
the shade, and his brow is famed by
kindly hands, while IL am burning"
Then the swollen, purple face of
Bunster rose up before him, and he
showed the cork into the mouth Of the
canteen with spasmodic effort that
seemed almost superhuman. Again he
toiled on-slowly now, for his strength
seemed almost spent.
1t was dreary waiting up at the camp
for the return of the water bearer.
Yost gazed for hours over the white
ground in the direction of the canyon,
and, at last, he grimly gave up Zach
Rawlins as lost man, though he did
not say SO to his less experienced
friends of the camp.
"No chance fur 'erJ when their feet
slip on the rocks owl them air cliffs or
when rattlesnake nips 'em Dove the
boot-top He's gone fur sartin'," NUT.
tered the guide We'll have to bury
the big 'un afore nightfall-fur he's
most gone-an' then put back fur the
stage-station afore we all drop. It's
just hell-this desert life, an I've bout
got my fill on it"
Then the ghost of man, with tatters
of clothing hanging from his form,
darted into view around the rocks.
Yost cursed the on-comer for fool for
running so hard under the burning sun.
His legs seemed very unsteady, for he
reeled as he ran. 1t was fully min
ute before the guide or any of them
could realize that the advancing form
was that of Rawlins, and in that min
ute the scare-crow figure had reached
the couch where Big Bunster lay, and,
uncorking the canteen, had showed the
neck of it into the nearly unconscious
mans mouth.
Drink, old mani It's water-good,
pure water! Drink hearty, and God
bless 'you!" came in thin, sepulchral
tones from between the blackened lip.
of the ghostly one. Drink, drink~
And the water-bearer fell beside his
cofhrade. Great throbs shook his
frame. His breath failed. His eyes
became glazed and his dust-covered
head, which had hours ago lost it's GOV
ering, sank down upon the sand. But
in the rigid clasp of death his hand hello
the canteen to his comrades lips.
Knocked out by the sum-" was Yost''
comment; "but he brought back full
canteen. Wal, I've seed lots on 'em
but never seed one with his grit!"
They buried him by the rocks ant
wrote his name on a stake, thrust int,
the sand at his head. And Bunster
who was coming out of deaths shadow
looked on and mourned.
That very evening came juggling
along the trail train of burros led h,
a thick-set Mexican. There was plent,
of good water in his casks and plent,
of good food in his packs, and the trav
elers ate and drank and went thei
way toward Flagstaff in the Mexican
company. And the sound o: the tinlz
ling bells on the burros' necks echoe'
from the rock under which Zach Raw
Inns lay and Knocked his dull, cold ear
I've seed lots on EN-" repeate,
Yost, as he told the tale to the Mexi
can-'Ive seed lots on 'em, but neve
seed one with his gritp'-Frank B, Mil