Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1892-05-04

grove by beautiful spring short dis
tance from the trail After lunch and an
other drink, both o; which the priest pro
vided, Jake Williams began to boast
again, and he poured out the vials of his
wrath and contempt on the bandit and al
Mexicans
II am Mexican, and you must not tall
so before me" said the priest firmly.
'I'll talk as l - please" shouted Jake
who felt quite safe in the presence of this
man of God.
''No, senior, as / please" said the priest
and as he said it the hands that had beer
under his long black coat flew out, and Mr.
Williams found two pistols pointed at his
breast.
Sheriff Williams, drop your belts, empty
your pockets, and do not touch pistol, ol
firel Come, no delay. mani All, that
shows your good sense. Now, step back
and stand against that tree. That's it."
who in blazes are youH asked the
sheriff, as he tottered back in obedience to
the command of the other.
Instantly the black cassock fell away
from the sinewy form of the priest, and
taking up the rope that had girdled his
waist, he said with sneer:
II am Juan Muriata at your serviceW
And what are you a-goin to do with
mel" asked Jake Williams, when he could
get his breath.
81 am going to send you back to Kern
with your head in bag. Resist and I'll
put the head and body in separate par
cels," said the bandit.
Sheriff Williams did not resist; indeed,
he was in no condition to do anything that
required coolness and reason.
That night, while still the bars of Kern
vile were doing thriving business, two
horses halted before the principal saloon,
and a man called in, Here's your sheriff.
and then galloped away.
Men rushed out with lanterns. They
found man seated on a horse with his
arms bound behind him and bag tied
over his head, and to the bag was pinned a
bit of paper on which were penciled the
words:
with Senor Muriata's compliments.
Senors, you had better try another sheriff.
And as Jake Williams "lit out" the very
next day, the people of Kern were forced
to act on the outlaws suggestion.
'T Am Sam''-
"As you gentlemen who fought on the
z,
handsome ex-Confederate colonel, with a
smile, I'VE rebels held the battlefield of
Chickamauga.
first and only time in my military career
found myself detailed to bury the dead.
If none Of you have ever had this work to
do you can form no idea of its appalling
horrors.
''It is said that familiarity breeds con-
Tempt but an eternity of familiarity could
never make me Indifferent to the sicken-
ing, heartrending sights of battlefield
after the struggle is over and one looks at
the many postured dead in cold blood.
"Of course there were no coffins, not
even for our own boys, who covered the
ground by hundreds. We dug separate
trenches for the men in blue and gray, lay
ing them side by side in long, stark rows,
and then covering them up.
But that day we buried one young Yam
kee by himself, and this is how it was:
"We were moving over the ground along
the slope SO heroically held by Thomas
men, when one of the detail called me to
him.
HE was bending over handsome youth
in blue, whose yellow head rested on his
arm as if he were asleep.
What is it?' [ asked of the man.
Just look at that, captain, he said.
II knelt down and found that the poor
fellows left arm had been torn off by a
shell. He evidently felt that the end had
come, and realized perhaps that there was
nothing on his person by which he could
be identified. With splinter of wood, ev-
identity dipped in his own hearts blood, he
managed to scrawl on the stock of his gun
the words, lam Sam The last word was
no doubt meant for Samuel and intended
to be followed by his full address, but
death came before he could finish it.
'sThe whole thing was so touching, so
suggestive, that myself and men were af-
fected as if we had taken sudden colds,
and let me say we were familiar with
death.
"I reckon, captain said one of the men,
and he evidently voiced the sentiment of
most of his comrades, that we'd better give
the poor feller restin place by hissel'.'
II coughed my consent, and under the
oak at the foot of which he lay we made
him a separate grave. The soldiers COW
cred it tenderly up, and cut in the bark
all we knew of the poor feller, with the
date of his death:
I am Sam, a Federal soldier; killed
at Chickamauga, September 20, 49,"