Evening journal. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1888-1932, 1892-08-06

in the regiment. How many are left Of
the officers who were so good to me
then2 Mother was only one Of dozen
whose hearts were broken-brolen as,
oh, Godl feel mine is to be. They took
my father long years ago, now they de-
mand my husband, my babies father.
my all, their ALI o Godi 0 God"
"Sobbing, rocking to and fro in her
uncomfortable grief, the poor girl chung
to Kenyon's hand, and the old fellows
eyes blinked and smarted with the tears
he could not quite force back. He laid
the other hand upon her bowed and
swaying head.
My child he said brokenly, "for
your babies sake try to bear up Be
your fathers daughter | knew and
loved him well--knew you when you
rode your first pony at the old fort up
the Missouri You know well wouldn't
try 10 deceive you. | can't think the
Twelfth is to bear the brunt Of this
business. They don't belong in that de-
partment at all They are only Dor
rowed from here, and surely there are
troops enough there, more than enough
to oyerawe that pestilent gang. All that
is necessary viii be to surround the In
dams, let them see what force we
have, and they'll knuckle down. Don't
cry SO, Mrs. Thorpe; don't cry, my
child. Let me take you over home now.
just get the little ones around you to-
night, and I'll bring over some famous
oranges that came today, and-why, |
u 1,11t ~ a.
pull another trigger Think how many
other regiments and commands there are
there"
II do, do, and pray and pray, but
no comfort comes. Did you ever know
a time when they were not in the thick
Of the fight? Did you ever hear Of any
time when the loss did not fall heaviest
on usgp
Don't think Of that now, he pleaded.
Don't borrow trouble from either past
or future. Come, let me take you home,
there's a good girl. l tell you if that
band hasn't surrendered they've scat
tered all over creation, and You can no
more catch them than you can-than
you cana newspaper lie. That's the
strongest simile ! can think of. Did you
hear what they were saying about Ber-
rien and Brewster he queried, eager to
divert her thoughts from her own
misery.
Il did. Isn't it cruel? But Major
Berrien has his wife and Winnie with
him, and they're bringing him home;
but if poor George is shot, what can
/ tlog'
do? Why, you shall go right to him
if have to give myself a seven days
leave and take YOU And so, soothing,
comforting as best he knew how, the
veteran major led her home to her won
dering brood to the laughing, growing
baby leaping in the nurses arms, de-
lighted to see the little mother again, to
the joyous children romping in the FIRE
/ light, innocent of care or fear, and then
striving for their sake to still her sobs,
to dry her tears, he left her to put the
little ones to bed, to clasp their folded
hands in hers as the wee, white gowned
girlies knelt at her side echoing Sod
only knew with what piteous entreaty-
the lisping prayer for his divine protec-
tion for the loved father, the devoted
husband, the gallant soldier who that
very day had fought his last fight and
lay lifeless on the frozen sod.
Over tho eastward bluffs, cold and
gray, the morning light had slowly crept
to the zenith. Over the Sky was spread
one limitless pail Of cloud, cherries and
repellent-a pall so dense that not one
friendly star had peeped, not one rift Of
/ sunshine now could force its way. All
below, bleak, frowning and sullen, a
bare and blasted landscape; low hills
and ridges east and west, low lying shall
low and swale between, cherries. tree
less, shrubless, not even veil of snow
to hide its nakedness, to lend one pity
ing touch to break the dull, dead monot-
ony Of its wintry desolation; sweeps
and slopes rolling away unbroken to the
frowning horizon at the west, sterner,
harsher lines among the bluffs across
the tortuous stream bed, between whose
ragged banks an icy, lonely and dismal
rivulet is curdling now, spreading out
into frozen shadows at the flats, moan
ing and complaining around its warped
and sudden bends, desolate as the sur
rounding desolation, deserted as the
Dead sea, its banks repellent even to
such sharers of Dakota solitudes as the
coyote and the cottonwood, stunned OF
man or beast or tree-a stream of silence
and gloom at the dawn Of this December
day, and 50 cherries is its every sur
rounding, SO appalling the unnatural
hush, that one would never dream OF
life upon its blasted banks.
Yet, listenl Unseen, but dominant.
the sun has risen above the eastern hills,
and, as the light broadens even where il
cannot warm, there floats upon the all
from far away at the southwest. faint
and clear, cavalry trumpet call; soft
at first, then crescendo, it ceases sud
denly III shrill high note. 1t thrills
through and through q rare atmosphere
unruffied by the feeting wing Of har-
diest bird Like tho wistful call Of scat
tered quail it seems to say, where are
your And prompt, expectant Of the
coming Of faithful mate, listen again
From the dim recesses to the north,
somewhere among these bare and des-
olate slopes, the answer rises, quick,
ringing, even imperative, and the signal
reads, This way"