The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1894-11-20

emotions were surging IN her young
bosom no one could know.
There was something in the cannon's
roar that charmed her ear-something
suggestive of strength and courage
Within her memory she had known
only weakness and fear.
After the yellow scourge of 50, wher
she was but four years old, she hao
known only that strange people with
loud voices and red faces had come &c
be to her in the place OF father and
| mother-that the Magwire babies were
heavy to carry and that their mother
had but a poor opinion of lazy hulk
| av a GIRL" who could not lift wash
tub without painting.
Idyl had tried hard to be strong and
TO please her foster-mother, but there
was somehow. in her life at the Mag
wires. something that made her eye,
grow larger and her little wrists more
| weak and slender.
She envied the Magwire twins-with
ell their prickly heat and their calico
blue eyes-when their mother pressed
them lovingly to her bosom. She even
/ envied the black babies when their
| great black mammies drooned them to
sleep.
/ What does it matter, black or white
| or red, if one is loved?
An embroidered Darling" upon an
! old crib blanket, and daguerreotype
"a slender youth beside pale. girl.
ish woman, who clasped a big-eyed
babe-were her only tokens Of past at.
| lection.
There was something within her that
responded to the daintiness of the low
| ing stitches in the old blanket-and to
q something in the refined faces in the
picture. And they had called their wee
daughter, Idyl, a little poem.
Yet she, not understanding, hated
this name because of Mrs. Magwire,
whose most merciless taunt was:
Sure we're well named, We idle
| dthreamer."
Mrs. Magwire, a well-meaning WON.
an withal, measured her material
ltindnesses to the hungry-hearted or
bowls of milk and hunks of corn bread.
Idyls dreams of propitiating her
were all of distractions, sef-sacrifce.
patience, gratitude.
And she was as unconscious as was
her benefactress that she was an ideal
list, and why the combination resulted
In harmony.
This evening, as she stood alone upon
the levee, listening to the cannon, a
sudden sense of utter desolation and
loneliness came to her. She only of all
the plantation was unloved-forgotten,
in this hour of danger.
A desperate longing seized her as she
turned and looked back upon the nest
Of cabins. II she could only save tho
would be too great.
With the thought came an inspira-
ton. There was reason in the women's
fears. Should the Rim Rats FIRE upon
the fleet, surely guns would answer,
else, what was war?
She glanced at her full pail, and then
at the row of cannon beside her
If she could pour water into then!
1t was too light yet, but tonight
All during the evening. while Mrs.
Magwire rocked the babies. moaning
and weeping, IdyI wiping her dishes
IN the little kitchen, would step to the
door and peer out at the levee where
the guns were. Every distant can
mons roar seemed to challenge her to
the deed.
When finally her work was done, she
slipped noiselessly out and started
toward the levee, pail in hand, but as
she approached it, she saw moving
shadows.
The Riff Rats were working at the
guns. Seeing her project impossible,
she sat down in dark shadow by tho
roadside-studied the moving shadows
listened to the guns which came
nearer as the hours passed.
1t was long past midnight; acceler-
ated firing was proclt.sling a crisis in
the battle. when. suddenly, there came
the rattle of approaching wheels &C
companied by a noisy rabble. Then q
woman screSmed.
Capt Doc WIS coming with wagon
load Of ammunition. The guns were
to be Loaded
The moon. faint waning crescent.
faded to filrnv line as pillar of fire,
rising against the sky northward to-
ward the city, exceeded the glare Of
the battle below.
The darkness was quite lifted now.
up and down the levee, and Idvl,
standing in the shadow, could see
groups of people weeping, wringing
their hands. as Capt. Doc, pompon
triumphant, appeared galloping down
the road.
In a second more he would pass the
seeing the sorrow Of the people, needing
the challenge of the guns. The wagon
was at hand.
With faint, childish scream. rails
ing her thin arms heavenward, she
plunged forward and fell headlong in
its path.
The victory was hers. The tinselled
captain WAS now tender surgeon, doc
tor friend.
in his own arms he raised the limp
little form from beneath the wheel,
while the shabby gray coats Of a
dozen Riff Rats" laid over the cannon
balls in the wagon made her a hero's
bed, and Capt Doe, selling the reins.
turned the horses cautiously and drove
In haste back TO his drug shop.
Farragut's feet and the honor OF
the Riff Rats were forgotten in the
presence of the shadow of death
Upon his own bed beside an open
window ne laid her. and while his
eager company became surgeons as