The great West. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1889-18??, 1893-08-25
HIS SACRIFICE.

of danger, privation and heroism the
veterans delight to tell by the fire.
side at home
Sergeant Easterbrook sat there,
gazing into the glowing depths of
the fire. He was tall, broad should
cred man of about five-and- thirty; but
grizzled and unkempt as he now was,
you would have taken him to be
older. Crouching close beside him
was little Charlie Hilton, a recruit
almost boy, indeed but there was
q sort of friendship between these
two, for both came from the same
village at home, in the garden of
England-a quiet, little village
perched upon hill, at the foot of
which lay the fair Weald of Kent.
Sergeant" the recruit whispered,
elf anything should happen to me
Tomorrow
t'Why, you talk just like the old
hands!"
"Wcll, why not? There's as much
chance of my getting potted as any
one else"
care you afraid?"
e'Afraid? No! Are you?"
eyes," the elder man answered,
with sad, quiet smile. Il don't be-
Heve there can be man living who
does not fear death-aye, the bravest
OF them; it goes along with the fear
of God!'
''But if anything should happen to
me-" Charlie persiSted
s'Oh, you'll be all right, young
ster."
cit is not because I am a young
ster that am any safer. Those con-
founded Russians don't pick out who
they'll hit. l want you to promise
me, sergeant, that when all is done
tomorrow, if you should find my
If you should find me among the
dead-you will take this letter that
is inside my jacket The other fell
lows might laugh if they knew, and
she would not like it. But you know
her. We are to be married if l come
safe out of this. If l don't, l think
she would like to know that I fell
with my face to the enemy!'
This time the young fellow fairly
broke down.
''You say I know her. May I ask
who she isP''
Eyes, don't mind telling you. It
Is Mary Ashford"
MARY! The daughter of Farmer
Ashford?"
yes"
Then there was dead silence be-
tween them, during which, as the
freight danced upon his features,
anyone who had been watching him
would have read world of unspoken
thoughts upon the sergeant's face-a
short but pathetic history of human
woe. Such an observer would have
read his secret, would have under
stood that Noel Easterbrook loved
Mary Ashford, too; that he bad i'm
agined and hoped his love might some
day be requited, until these words
came to dispel his dream-words
spoken in all innocence, but which
pierced his heart as fatally as could
have done a Cossack's lance thrust.
1t was Hilton who first broke the
silence.
''Yoa have not answered me, SER
geant," he said. "Won't you promise
me what l asked you?"
YES" Easterbrook replied, in
quiet, subdued tone, which betrayed
no emotion, Il will do you this little
service, if you should require it, and
am in a position to perform it."
Thank you so much. And you
will take the letter back to herr"
EYES," with some hesitation, II
will take it back to her, if live"
At this moment an officer came
among them, and the soldiers rose
and saluted.
1--WE want some men," said he, 'sto
go forward and reconnoitre the enc
my's outposts. The duty may be
dangerous one"
''Tll go, if you please, captain"
Sergeant Easterbrook said, stepping
forward.
Every we'll. Take three men with
you"
sI'll come with you," said young
Hilton.
''No, not you, youngster," the SER
geant exclaimed hastily in a strange
tone.
"Let him go. since he has volun-
teered," rejoined the captain, who
was a strict disciplinarian "Let the
lad learn his duty. 1t Is just this
sort of daring pluck which upholds
the honor of the Union Jackm
Easterbrook was silenced, since he
must needs yield to his superior
officer; and few minutes later the
sergeant, Hilton and two other SOL
diers were passing over the snow
clad plain, with their muskets upon
their shoulders, fitting like four
shadows in the twilight out OF the
British camp.
Not a word was spoken, every
thing depended upon silence and dis
erection. The snow was falling faster
now, and obliterated the mems foot
steps as they walked on. The coun-
try was bleak and open; there were
only a few trees here and there,
which tossed their great bare
branches in the wintry wind like
giants writhing to be free from some
spell.
After they had marched for nearly
an hour they approached a frozen
stream, and on hillo:k upon the
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