Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1894-04-02


have not yet seen her.
IF you haven't seen her, how do you
know where she is?''
IN tell you how / know. l tracked
her out of her Uncle John 8 cornfield to
this cornfield ON the Gregg farm. She
first went a little way into the prairie
i don't know how far-but turned
and came back to the fence, as l was
sure she would, for the rise in the prai
RE Just there would make all before
her the same as blank. She would turn
about in search Of some object familiar
to her, and seeing the fence would
come back to it. Just ahead was the
cross fence of this field, which would
bar her way, so l came on and soon
found where she had crawled through
| it, leaving behind a little wooden nit
ten. l trailed her along the line of
fence to this spot. Here she turned into
the cornfield, and l had not followed
her 10 feet before my lantern went out,
SO just halted here on the trail and
curled up in the fence corner to wait
for daylight.
But how do you know she's alive
and sIeeplng?"
We'll, half an hour ago l heard her
cry for moment, just as children do
at times when disturbed in their sleep.
l started up, but as she ceased crying
almost Immediately | lay down again
with my ear to the ground. About day
light. when a little breeze starts up, it
will be colder, and she will cry again.
Then | may get her; if not, II find her
! as soon as it is light enough to see the
trail. She is not 200 yards from this
! spot, but l don't know the direction ex-
actly."
You take things very coolly. Let
me go and get another lantern. Think
of the wretchedness of the parents. Be
sides. the child may chill to DEATH
mo fear of her death from the cold.
These little prairie youngsters are very
hotblooded. l have not found it cold
| lying here in the weeds and grass. l
told the father I'd find his child, and
I'm not going to have all that rabble
rushing down here, tearing through the
corn like wild men. Now, go back to
camp. About daylight let the child's
uncle, Clark Lewis, come on his horse
to the cross fence. Then you come on
here, and we will go and get the child"
But the father, what shall / tell
him?"
Give him this little mitten. Tell
him that | have not lost the trail, and
| that he shall have his child before the
sun is an hour high. But tell him to
keep this news to himself and remain
| quietly at camp. If the men up there
want to ride about the prairies, let them
| go-I don't want crowd down here in
! this cornfield.
l went back to the camp, and taking
the father aside gave him the little nit
ten and as much comfort as l could. a
great fear that his little girl was dead
Immediately seized him, however.
mo" said |, "she is sleeping quietly
enough. -
"Quietly sleeping! How do you know
| that"
For answer | repeated what my cous-
in had told me- When l mentioned the
crying of the child, the father wanted
to at once rush away to my cousin.
mo, let HAN go on in his own cool,
slow and sure way. You will make him
nervous and hasty."
Next l sought out Clark Lewis, and
by the time l had told him what was
required of him signs of dawn were Wis
ible in the east He wished to set out
Immediately, and while he was getting
his horse l borrowed a lantern contain
ing half a candle in order to begin the
trailing at once, for until after sunrise
the light would be dim among the tall
corn.
Clark Lewis halted at the cross fence
while went on and Joined my cousin
xIhar no
fortably "camped on the trail" He
was glad to see the lantern, being tired
of doing nothing. Besides he had again
heard the voice of the child for Il mo-
! ment. 1T has about had it's sleep out
and is beginning to fret because of the
cold" said he.
1 wanted to rush ahead with the Ian
tern and prosecute the search, regard
less of the trail. No" SAID my cous-
in, for / am not sure Of either distance
or direction, except that the faint wall
ing cries came from the eastward. Slow
and sure is the plan
The old fashioned tin lantern was
found poor thing for our use. 1t was
only by opening the door of 1t that Il
sufficiently broad light for trailing
could be obtained, and then it fell far
short of the bullseye.
Between the rows of corn the ground
was covered with pumpkin vines. fox
tail grass and weeds of various kinds.
l could see nothing. My cousin, how
ever, saw everything. When shown,
could see where a pumpkin vine had
been dragged out of place by the tired
feet of the little one, but l could not
see the mOccasin prints and failed to
note bent and crushed weeds. AS the
ground was thickly covered and hidden
in most places, it was practically by
what he saw among the weeds and
plants that my cousin followed the trail.
1t was slow work, but by flashing
the light ahead to where a vine had
been dragged or a corn blade broken
off we occasionally went forward 10
feet at a bound. The trail, too, zig
Jagged abolt-did not go straight ahead
between any two corn rows.
She cannot be far away" said my
cousin. ''She has here been wandering
in the dark. Darkness came upon her
about the time she turned away from
the fence. All looked alike to her, or
she would have held to the mark which
had guided her so far-the fence"
Daylight found US still puzzling over
the windings of the trail. In eccen-
tricity it reminded me of the trails of
the opossums l had followed in boy
hood. Not sound had we heard from
the child. This worried me, as feared
she had chilled to death.
Nothing of the kind, said my cous-
in. "She has heard us and is lying low.
She is in a condition to be afraid of ev-
cry noise she hears
Sunrise came, and we made better
progress. The trail had turned and
was leading back toward the fence. My
cousin, who was about 10 feet in ad-
vance, suddenly turned and motioned
me to move forward. When l came
70, Ii he Ii Ill L..