Alpena argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1893-1909, 1894-11-14

Evening hnally gives place TO sol
omn night. 1t is a starlight night,
but mist rises from the sands to
make the stars look small and pale
and far away. There are no tents,
no fires. At 10 o'clock nearly all
the command are asleep. The sleep
ers are lying as | saw the dead lie
when waiting burial at Gettysburg,
Each face is uncovered and upturn-
ed to the night. and you feel chill
as you look at them. You know
they sleep, and yet you fear they
are dead-a camp of dead men on
desolate and accursed ground! The
men are hardly asleep before the
horses become quiet. Some lie
down to sleep and sigh; others re-
main on their feet, and weave to
and fro, and arouse themselves at
intervals to look about in dazed
queer way. Loneliness and night
aud desolation effect a horse as much
as a nam. He cannot sleep and
forget his situation as his rider can
Only the sentinels are alert now
The Indians are at peace with us
and no danger need be feared, but
they have heard of the Desest Phan-
tom and are nervous and wakeful.
Eleven o'clock, and all is quiet.
But for the faint crunch of the
footsteps of the sentinels it would
be the stiffness of a tomb. On the
plains you will hear an occasional
cry from some night bird, the how
of the coyote, the chirp of the crick.
cts. Here is blankness-darkn
silence so deep that you are afraid
of it.
Midnight, and the sergeant of the
guard is abont to arouse the relief
guard and march them out, when q
strange, weird sound comes to his
ears from the north. 1t is the cry
of a human being-of woman
such a cry as a woman might utter
as she tottered about and sunk down
to die of hunger and thirst. 1t is
the cry of the Phantom. 1t has
been heard hundred times before
and no man has ever smiled in con-
tempt at the sound.
"The Phantom! The Phantom
The Phantom" So wisper the three
sentinels Oh that side of the camp
as they desert their posts and hasten
in.
Fools. Cowards! Get back or |
will report you!" answered the SER
geant; but they move timidly and
look to the right and left.
Now comes the cry from the east
side of the camp-not a shrek nor
a scream, but a long drawn, culver
ing cry full Of anguish and desola-
tion. Was it fancy? Then why
did every horse on the ground leap
to his feet and point his ears at the
first cry? Was it the cry of some
lost and confused vulture flying
heavily over camp as it searched fol
the flock? If so, why did the sec.
ond cry arouse every sleeping man
and cause him to turn his face tC
the east-men who would have slept
on amid the bowling wolvesP
"What is it, sergeantP"
"The Phantom of the Desert,
sirr'
The officers had heard the legends
many times, but smiled in pity on
those who related them. An officer
of the regular army believer in
phantoms! A troop Of regular ca
valry, most of the men in service
for a dozen years, panic-stricken be,
cause Of a cry from the darkness.
Sergeant, give me the names OF
those men who deserted their posts,
and I'll"
The cry came again-this time
from the west-a cry in which there
was more anguish and desolation
than before. 1t quavered on the
night air for ten long seconds, and
when it ceased every mans heart
was beating so he could hear the
sound. Many of the horses stamp
ed and snorted, and the men crowd
ed together and reached for their
carbines. Four parties of three
men each were pushed out into the
darkness, and candles were lighted
and men ordered to shout welcome
to the poor wanderer, After an in
teryal Of five minutes we heard the
cry again, but it was farther away
this time, and we thought it had
changed, too. There was a note of
anger and disappointment in it. A
long ten minutes passed away, and
then we got the cry for the last
time-a wailing, petulant cry which
might be uttered .by a tired and
sleepy. child.
Men and horses slept again, but
with asort of nightmare upon them.
When daylight came we secured the
desert for signs and found them in
plenty-the footprints of naked
feet all about our camp. Some said