People's voice. [volume] (Wellington, Sumner County, Kansas) 1890-1917, 1893-02-03

/ PAGER Oy the hre, matted, and, Salutlng,
said;
Maj. Conyer's scout sends in two
prisoners, general Would you care to
question them, Or"
send them to the rear, SIR" brusque-
~ replied the officer addressed, passing
into gloom.
Zone of them is woman, sir"
The returning shadow promptly
halted, raised pair of keen blue eyes
TO the others face, shook the snow out
of the long brown curls escaping be-
meath his plumed felt hat and resting
on his collar, as he asked, crisply-
Camp woman, or spy?"
Certainly not an ordinary camp
woman. A lady, seemingly; though she
will not talk" replied the provost
marshal, glibly. "And, sir, when a
woman won't talk"
ANY papers? Have you searched
them?" cut in his superior.
mo, sir. had supposed Maj. Con-
yers-"
Supposed? Search them, sir" And
the young general, with scarcely sup
pressed oath, locked his hands behind
him, stood with back to the fire, wholly
careless Of the fast falling snow, and
watched his officers retreating form as
he approached the pair
Fauntleroy had been lifted from his
cramped perch behind Doyle's saddle,
and Miss Clay, dismounting, had APP
preached him, with eager query as to
his hurt.
Leg busted, but only a strain,
guess" he answered, cheerfully, add
ing, rather ruefully: 1T will be in
marching trim long before get the
chance to test it, now"'
Poor, dear boy! And all for my
sake!' Miss Clay whispered back. But
perhaps we may get off, if"
Her suggestion was cut off unfinished
by the brusque order of the provost
marshall:
Fall back, madam. - Sergeant,
search that prisoner! Why in thunder
haven't you done so already?" he added,
in iower grumbling, venting spleen at
HI, own reproof upon his inferior.
All right Search away" Evan re-
sponded, with loud laugh, as the girl
stepped back without a vord, only one
quick motion of her hand to her lips
And, noting it, the boy swiftly carried
his hand to his mouth, as though to
stop his laugh. With dash upon him.
the sergeant had his wrist in iron grip,
forcing down the tightly-clinched hand
and struggling to open it. But ere the
long, powerful New Highlander could do
this, only to find it empty-Evan's
jaws had worked rapidly, and he gave a
great gulp, as the officer cried:
Choke him, sergeant"
For what?" the reb answered, de-
family, springing back. You've made
me swallow my tobacco now; and Oh,
Lord! I'm getting sick!'
With a sudden lurch forward, he
leaned heavily on the officer, almost
tumbling him into the arms of the agile
sergeant.
Lean up, damn you!" growled the
provost marshall volunteer commits
sion BY recent grace, but a politician by
descent, profession, and lifelong prac-
tice.
There was apparent agony of nausea
upon the boys face but had the light
been stronger the captors might have
caught a CLEAN of merry devil in the
eyes he dropped quickly as the volun-
teer again grumbled:
'Um! the old spy's trick. Search him,
sergeant! Do you hear?"
Without word of protest, Evan sub
mitted to thorough search by the lean
old sergeant, regular with chevrons
for service, which yet could not keep
his lips quite steady, as he finished his
task and reported, handing over his
treasures:
Zone letter, two passes, sir; one pipe,
one hoof-pick, one buckle, one piece Of
twine." And the veterans hand went
from his cap to his side, as the major
nervouSly grasped the enumerated
captures.
'Major!" The clear call from the
little statue at the fire wheeled the
provost marshal like top; and he adj
vanced eagerly, saluting with the hand
that held his prizes.
''Stop that farce" the general con-
tinued, dryly. IF that fellow is really
spy, he made way with his proofs on
capture. These are decoys only"
81 think, general, he swallowed"-
the provost blurted out-adding, very
quickly, Ibis tobacco"
The keen blue eyes shot only one
glance at the speaker, now eagerly
scanning the papers by hight OF the hire.
He did? I'm! send him to my tent"
Eyes, general. VIII you examine
these?"
mo, sir. Send him to me-" This
shortly, as the young leader took the
papers carelessly and turned into the
small, dingy tent beyond the blaze.
Seating himself on a campstool, he
merely glanced at the papers, by the
pale CLEAN Of lantern. They were a
scrawled letter from a soldier, a far
rier's receipt, and weeks liberty,
signed by the captain of B troop, but
without date. He pitched them on the
rough camp table with contemptuous
gesture, muttering:
"Decoys-if she be spyl Curse these
mustangsl Politics hobble the service,
no end"
A shadow in the tent door raised the
1apara1'o avae nc Nice Clor on@o-ol