San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-02-16

to the Umpqua," said Armstrong, turn
ing to Miss Clitheroe; "jest about your
settin up and jest about as many corn
shuckins old. Ellen is her name"
ELLEN is my name"
That's pretty" pooty he pronounced
it). "Well, I'll stand father to you, Just
as eff you was my own gal. l know what
gal in trouble wants more'n young
fellows can"
Ellen Clitheroe gave her hand to Arm
strong in frank acceptance of his offer.
He became the paternal element in our
party-he protecting her and she hu-
MANNING him.
We lighted our camp fire and supped
heartily. Except for Brent's uneasy stir
and unwilling means, we might have
forgotten the deadly business of that
day.
We made the wounded man comfort
able as might be with blankets under
the sheltering spruces. After all, if he
must be hurt he could not have fallen
upon better hospital than the pure
open air of this beautiful shelter, and
surely nowhere was gentler nurse than
his.
Armstrong and / built the lady a
bower, little lodge of bushes from the
thicket.
Then he and I kept watch and watch
beneath the starlight.
more He could guide, but no more
gallop in front and beckon on the caval-
cade
1t was grand journey. A wild one
and rough for lady. But this lady was
made of other stuff than the mistresses of
lapdogs. 50 She insisted upon her
share ofscamp duty; and her great gray
eyes were often to be seen gravely fixed
upon frying pan, or watching a roast
ing bird as it twirled slowly before the
fire with strip of pork featly disposed
overhead to haste that succulent re
volver; while Brent, poor fellow, lay
upon the grass wrapped in blankets,
slowly accommodating force for the next
days journey, and watched her with
wonderment and delight that she could
condescend to be household goddess
Except for Brent's wound, we four
might have had joyous journey, full Of
the true SAVIOR of brave travel. But he
di6 net mend. He wasted daily. His
sleep became deathly frances. We could
not wear him out with haste. Brave
heart! he bore up like brave. .-~.-.,,-- -.
And at last one noon we drew out of
the Black Hills, and saw before US,
across the spurs of Laramie peak, the
broad plain of Fort Laramie.
Brent revived. We rode steadily.
Just before sunset we pulled up at our
goal.
For the last hour l had ridden close to
Brent. l saw that it was almost up
with him. He swayed in his saddle
His eye was glazed and dull. But he
kept his look fixed on the little group of
Laramie barracks and let his horse carry
him.
lifted up my heart in prayer that this
noble life might not be quenched. He
must not die, now that he was enlarged
and sanctified by truest love.
At last we struck open country. Bill
Armstrong; sorrel took a grading lope;
we rode through camp of Sioux step
ees," like so many great white fools
caps; we turned the angle of a great
white wooden building and halted.
sprang from Fulano and Brent quietly
dropped down into my arms.
"Just in time" said cheerful, manly
voice at my ear.
81 hope So" said l. sis it Captain
Ruby?"
eyes. Well take him into my bed.
DIR. Pathie, here's patient for you"
We carried Brent in. AS we crossed
the veranda saw Miss Clitheroe's meet
ing with her father. He received her
almost peevishly.
We laid the wounded man in Ruby's
hospital bed. Evidently fine fellow,
Ruby, and, what was to the point, fond
of John Brent.
"Critical case" said DR.. Pathie at last.
He had great outrageous eyebrows and
a gentle, peremptory manner, as OF one
who had done much merciful cruelty in
his day. ugly wound. Never saw a
worse furrow. Conical ball. He must
have been almost at the muzzle of the
pistol. He ought not to have stirred for
a month. Keep him quiet. And do not
let him see or hear or feel the presence
of that beautiful young woman. She is
not his sister, and she will have too
much trouble herself to be tranquil
nurse for him here"
l left him with his patient and went
out to care for our horses. Ruby, mod
est host, had saved me all trouble.
~ have given Miss Clitheroe my sole
guest chamber" he said. "She has
lady's maid in the brawny person of an
Irish corporaless. What transcendent