The Wichita daily eagle., 1891-10-09

TIE lights Of the railway station were
cleaning ahead, and Chouchoutee hot
r1de was almost ut an end.
With sudden and strange perversity
of purpose Chouchoute, as he drew closer
upon the station, slackened his horses
speed. A low fence was in his way.
Not long before he would have cleared
it at a bound-for Bon-a-rien could do
such things Now he cantered easily to
the end Of il to go through the gate.
His courage was growing faint and
his heart sinking within him as he drew
nearer and nearer.
He dismounted, and holding the pony
by the name approached with some
trepidation the young station master,
who was taking note Of some freight
that had been deposited near the tracks.
''Mr. Hudson" faltered Chouchoute,
"did you see my pony 'roun yers any
where? an-an the mail sackT"
"Your ponys safe in the woods,
Chou'te. The mail bags on its way to
New Orleans''-
'Thank God" breathed the boy.
"But that poor little black fellow Of
yours has about done it for himself, ]
guess"
WASH Oh, Mr.. Hudsoni watts
watts happen to WashT'
"8e's inside there, on my mattress.
Hes hurt, and he's hurt bad; that's
what's the matter. You see the 10:45
train had come in, and she didn't
make much of stop; she was just
pushing out when, bless me! If that little
chap of yours didn't come tearing along
on Spunky as if Old Harry was behind
him.
"You know how No. % can pull at the
start; and there was that little imp
keeping abreast of her most under the
things wheels.
81 shouted at him. 1 couldn't max.
out what he was up to, when blamed il
he didn't pitch the mail bag clean into
the carl Buffalo Bill couldn't have done
1t neater.
''Then Spunky, she SHE'D; and Wash
he bounced against the side of that car
and back, like rubber ball, and laid in
the ditch till we carried him inside.
"Pve wired down the road for DR..
Campbell to come up on No. Il and do
what he can for him"
Hudson had related these events to
the distracted boy while they made their
way toward the house.
Inside, upon low pallet, lay the little
negro, breathing heavily, his black face
pinched and ashen with approaching
death. Ho had wanted no one to touch
him further than to lay him upon the
bed.
The few men and colored women gath
cred in the room were looking upon him
with pity mingled with curiosity.
When he saw Chouchoute he closed
his eyes, and a shiver passed through his
small frame. Those about him thought
he was dead. Chouchoute knelt, chok-
ing, at his side and held his hand.
''Oh, Wash, Washi Wat you did that
for? Wat made you, Wash?"
"Marse Chouchoute," the boy whis-
pered, SO low that no one could hear him
but his friend, 81 was gwine long de
big road, pas Marse Gros Icons, an
seed Spunky tied dah wild de mail. Dar
warn't minute 'clar', Marse Chou
choute, dar warn't minute-to fotch
you Wat makes my head tu'n 'roun
dat away?"
"Neva mine, Wash; keep still; don't |
you try to talk" entreated Chouchoute.
"You amt mad, Marse Chouchoute?'
The lad could only answer with a
hand pressure.
"Dar warn't minute, so I gifts top o
Spunky-I neva seed nuttin clar deroad |
like dat come long side-de train
an fling de sack. l seed i'm kotch it,
and don't know nuttin mo- 'cep' mis'ry,
till | see you a-comin trough de do. |
Mebby Nine. Armand know some'pin,"
he murmured family, 'w'at gwine make
quit tu'nin round that away
| boun to git well; case who-gwine-
watch Marse - Chouchoute?' - Kate
Chopin in Youths Companion.