The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1894-12-28

pened and the painful scene ct their
parting And yet would it not be O
blessing TO her if he were killed? Even
now in his self abnegation and misery
he did not fully realize how mean no
was-how mean he seemed to others.
He resented i'll his heart what Sloat had
said OF him but the day before, little
caring whether he heard it or not: ut
would be mercy TO That poor girl II
Jerrold were killed. He will break her
heart with neglect on drive her mad
with jealousy inside of year, But
the regiment seemed to agree with
Sloat.
And so in all that little band of COM
rades he could call no man friend. One
after another he looked upon the uncon-
scious faces, cold and averted in the OBJ
livion of sleep, but not more cold, not
more distrustful, than when he had
vainly sought among them one relentipg
glance i'll the early moonlight that bat
tic eve III biyouac. He throw his arms
upward, shook his head, with hopeless
gesture, then buried his face in the
sleeves of his rough campaign overcoat
and strodo blindly from their midst.
Early in the morning. an hour before
daybreak, tho shivering outpost, crouch
ing in q hollow to the southward, catch
sight Of two dim figures shooting sud-
denly up over distant ridge-horse-
men, they know at o glance--and these
two come looping down the moonlit trail
over which two nights before had
marched the calvary speeding to the
rescue over which in an hour the regi-
ment itself must be on the move. Old
campaigners are two Of the picket, and
they have been especially cautioned to
be on tho lookout for couriers coming
back along the trail. They spring to
their feet, in readiness to welcome or
repel, as tho sentry rings out his sharp
and sudden challenge.
''Couriers from the corral" is the
jubilant answer. 'This Colonel May
nard's outfit?'
'Ayc, aye, sonny" is the unmilitary
but characteristic answer. Whats
your news?"
''Got there i'll time and saved what's
left of 'em, but it's a hell hole, and you
follows are wanted quick as you can
oomo-30 miles ahead. Where's the
colonol?"
The corporal of the guard goes back
to the bivouac, leading the two ar
rivals. Ono is scout, plainsman born
and bred, the other sergeant Of cavalry.
They dismount i'll tho timber and picket
their horses, then follow on foot the
lead of their companion Of the guard
While the corporal and the scout pro-
coed to the wagon fly and tumble at the
opening, the tall sergeant stands silent
ly little distance in their rear, and the
occupants of % neighboring shelter-the
counterpart Of the colonel s-begin to
stir, as though their light slumber had
been broken by the smothered sound of
footsteps. One of them sits up and peers
out at the front, gazing earnestly at the
tall figure standing easily there in the
Pickering light. Then he halls in low
tones:
''That you, Mr.. Jerrold? What is
the matter?'
And the tall figure faces promptly to-
ward the mailing voice. The spurred
heels como together with q click, the
gauntleted hand rises i'll soldierly salute
to the broad brim Of the scouting hat,
and deep voice answers respectfully;
SIT is not Mr., Jerrold, sir. 1t is Ser
geant Mcleod, --th cavalry, just in
with dispatches. "
Armitage springs TO his feet, sheds
his shell of blankets and steps forth in
to tho glade, with his eyes fixed eagerly
ON the shadowy form in front. He peers
under the broad brim, as though striv-
ing to see the eyes and features Of the
tall dragoon.
''Did you get there i'll timer" he asks,
half wondering whether that was really
the question uppormost in his mind