The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1892-07-06
ONLY A soUAw AND Her BABE.
An Incident of Our Warfare with the
American Aborigines.

The first faint trace of daylight is APP
pearing as the tired troopers, Invested
of heavy coat, canteen, and cup, spurs
and sling belt, creep upward through
the snow and loose rocks to the place
assigned each group along the edge of
the bluff that affords protecting shelter
from the wintry blast to the little
Cheyenne village nesting in the bend
of the frozen creek below.
Save the soft crunching of the snow
beneath the pressure of hands and
knees, perfect stiffness prevails, and in
few moments more the village will
be so completely surrounded that es-
cape will be impossible, and daylight
will reveal the uselessness of resist
ance, Then quick return to the
agency must be made, for the ther-
mometer registers twenty-seven be-
low, and, even the horses, left far down
in the canyon, will soon perish for
want of shelter.
But the eighty-three miles ride in
the stinging cold has benumbed the
sense of touch, and a bit of glary ice
brings trooper and his carbine rat
thing down among the loose rocks,
while the shrill swapping bark of the
Indian dogs awakens the sleeping guard
and following this alarm out from the
tepees rush the redskins.
Relieving that capture can mean
naught else than death, the Indians
take deadly aim with their Winches-
ters, then swiftly retreat to the only
point left open by the troops, who,
seeing their comrades falling, wait
not for the word of command, but
send in destructive fire just as the
last of the band, a Cheyenne squaw
with babe and child, join the retreat.
A stray bullet skaters the mothers
right arm, and but for the maiden's
quick movement the babe would have
fallen. Forging swiftly ahead, the
child does not see the mother hurled
unconscious to the ground by bullet
that crashed through the right thigh,
and she has almost reached the rocks
when leaden messenger of death
| touches her heart, and relaxing all
| hold on the babe the little maiden
staggers and sinks forward in heap
on the snow.
Daylight comes quickly, and the
stiffness that follows this deadly out
break is pierced only by the pitiful
| cry of the babe stretched on the icy
crust and helplessly appealing for the
shelter and warmth of the mothers
breast. And then the form of the
mother is seen to move forward, worm
! ing its way gradually from side to
| side, and slowly but surely, inch by
inca, lessing the distance between self
| and babe.
| Fourteen minutes = an age-have
passed, and she has crawled but half
| the distance, and now lies motionless,
with her face toward the bluff. An
inexpressible agony that finds vent
| only through her eyes is more than
human sight can stand, and dropping
his tield-glass a sergeant leaps down
ward to carry the babe to her side, and
/ is shot dead before a dozen steps are
taken.
The suns rays bring no warmth, and
| the piteous cry is growing fainter and
| fainter. But the mother is again
sinking her one hand through the
crust of the snow, and dragging her
wounded form forward; and reach
ing the babe, with an almost superhu-
man effort she rolls over on her back,
in the movement divesting herself of
the blanket that forms her only gar
ment, and drawing the wee tot to her
| breast tucks the blanket lovingly
around the little body, and folding it in
her arms stills it's murmur with a
mothers touch. Then she places the
fingers of her broken dangling arm
caressingly on the cold cheek of the
little maiden.
! When the Indians, chilled and heart
broken, raise a flag of truce the sol
diers hurry to the mothers side. But
the baby's lips are tightly frozen to the
icy breast, and mother, and babe, and
little sister have crossed the Last
Range Dorothy Dayda IN N. 7. EUeas-
ina Post.