The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1891-09-09

Not long before he would have cleared
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
where2 an-an the mail sack?'
"Your ponys safe in the woods,
Chou'te. The mail bags on its way to
New Orleans
'"Thank Godl' breathed the boy.
"But that poor little black fellow of
yours has about done it for himself,
guess"
"Wash? Oh, Mr. Hudson! watts
watts happen to WASH"
"He'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 mel il 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. | 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
it 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. IA and de
what he can for him.
Hudson had related these events t.
the distracted boy while they made thei
way toward the house.
Inside, upon a low pallet, lay the LITTLE
negro, breathing heavily, his black face
pinched and ashen with approaching
death. He had wanted no one to toucf
him further than to lay him upon the
bed.
The few men and colored women gath
cred in the room were looking upon hin
with pity mingled with curiosity.
When he saw Chouchoute he CLOSED
his eyes, and SILVER passed through hi
small frame. Those about him though
he was dead. Chouchoute knelt, chok
ing, at his side and held his hand.
ooh, Wash, Washl Wat you did tina
for? Wat made you, WASN'T"
"Marse Chouchoute," the boy wills
pered, so low that no one could hear hin
but his friend, "a was gwine long d
big road, pas Marse Gros Icons, an
seed SpunlIy tied dab wild de mail. Da
warnt a minute-I 'clar', Marse Chou
choute, dar warn't minute-to fotcl
you. Wat makes my head tu'n 'roul
dat away
'Neva mine, Wash; keep still; don
you try to talk" entreated Chouchoute.
, 'You amt mad, Marse Chouchoute?"
The lad could only answer with
{ hand pressure.
, ''Dar warn't minute, SO gifts top {
{ Spunby-I neva seed muffin cl'ar de roat
like dat. come long side-de train
{ an fling de sack. seed i'm kotch il
and don't know muffin mo 'cep' Misty
till l see you a-comin trough de do
Mebby Mime. Armand know some'pin,
he murmured family, ''w'at gwine max
my--head quit tu'nin round that ava.
boun to git well; case who-gwine-
watch Marse - Chouchoute?" Kat
Chopin in Youths Companion.