The Portland daily press., 1891-09-19

dear mother forced to share both with
him.
He turned desperately to some negroes
who had followed him, seeing his wild
rush from the house;
"Who saw my boss? Wat you all did
with my boss, sayT
"Who you reckon tech yo' boss, boy?"
grumbled Gustave, a sullen looking
mulatto. "You didn' have no call to
lef i'm in de road, fus' place."
"'Pear to me like I heahed boss
a-lopin down de road jis' now; didn' you,
Uncle Jake" ventured a second.
"Neva heahed nuttin-nuttin t all
'cep' dat big mouf Ben in yonda maxim
mo fuss AN t'unda sto'm."
"Boysp cried Chouohoute excitedly,
"bring me a hoss, quick, one of you.
Pm boun to have onel I'm boun to-;
I'll give two dolla to the frs man brings
me hoss."
Near at hand, In the slot" that adj
Joined Uncle Jake's cabin, was his little
creole pony, nibbling the cool, wet grass
that he found along the edges and In the
corners of the fence.
The negro led the pony forth. With
no further word and with one bound
Chouchoute was upon the animals back.
He wanted neither saddle nor bride, for
there were few horses in the neighbor-
hood that had not been trained to be
guided by the simple motions Of the
riders body.
Once mounted, he threw himself for
ward with certain violent impulse,
leaning till his cheek touched the ami
mails name.
He uttered a sharp "Heil" and at
once, as If possessed by sudden frenzy,
the horse dashed forward, leaving the
bewildered black man in cloud Of
dust.
What a mad ride it wasl On one side
was the river bank, steep In places and
crumbling away; on the other an I'M
broken line of fencing, now In straight
lines Of neat planking, now treacherous
baFbed wire, sometimes the zigzag rail.
The night was black, with only such
faint light as the stars were shedding.
No sound was to be heard save the quick
thud of the horses hoofs upon the hard
dirt road, the animals heavy breathing
and the boys feverish "hei, HEIR when
he fancied the speed slackened.
Occasionally marauding dog started
;tom the obscurity to bark and give use
less chase.
"To the road, to the road, Bon-a-rienl"
painted Chouchoute, for the horse in his
wild race had approached SO closely to
the rivers edge that the bank crumbled
beneath his flying feet. 1t was only by
y desperate lunge and bound that he
saved himself and rider from plunging
into the water below.
Chouchoute hardly knew what he was
nurs11in9 so madlr. tt was rather some
thing that drove him-fear, hope, des-
perai n.
He was rushing to the station, because
it seemed to him, naturally, the first
thing to do. There was the faint hope
that his own horse had broken rein and
gone there Of his own accord; but such
hope was almost lost in wretched con-
viction that had seized him the instant
he saw "Gustave the thief among the
men gathered at Gros Icons.
"Heii hei, Bon-a-rein"
The lights of the railway station were
cleaning ahead, and Chouchoute's hot
ride was almost at 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.
- I,apo,.a he xr1o,11d hauo 81 rod
it at bound-for Bon-a-rien could do
such things. Now he cantered easily to
the end of it 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 yere any
where? an-an the mail sack2"
"Your pony's 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.. Hudsonl watts
watts happen to Washf"
SHE'S inside there, on my mattress
He's 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. 90 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 make
out what he was up to, when blamed If
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 a rubber ball, and laid in
tlAO oAbO1 Ol1A NO Ook4ACN AubA0Os
"Pve wired down the road for DR..
Campbell to come up on No. IA 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. He 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 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, Washl Wat you did that
for? Wat made you, Wash?"
"Marse Chouchoute," the boy wills
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 dab wild de mail. Oar
warn't minute-I 'clar', Marse Chou