The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1894-02-07

tue hIsI 10 near MN Stir and sigh.
Ruth and her sister, too, seem about
to withdraw, but Wing, whose voice is
weak now, begs them to remain.
Has anything been seen yet-back
on the trail-of the Stoneman party p"
he asks.
No, sergeant, p" replies Drummond,
but remember that we can only see
some six miles of the trail, after that
1T is lost in that tortuous ravine down
which we rode on the chase. Walsh is
mp there on lookout, and I'll ask if no
can sec anything now" and calling to
one of the men Drummond bids him
inquire. All eagerly await tho reply
AT last it comes:
- No dust on the back track, sir, but
something that looks like it far to the
south. We think it may DO some of our
fellows coming back, but it is too faint
and far to make it out yet
The corporal is the speaker his reso-
nant voice contrasting strongly with the
feeble accents of his immediate supc-
rior, the wounded sergeant.
"Then | have something that must
DO told you. lieutenant. something Miss
| Harvey already has an inllling Of for
she has met and known my dear moth
er. If this pain continues to increase,
and fever sets in, may be unable to
tell it later. Some of the men thought
l had enlisted under an alias, lieuten-
ant, but they were wrong Wing is
my rightful name. My father was
chief officer of the old Flying Cloud
in the days when American clipper
ships beat the world. The gold fever
seized him, though, and hc quit sail
ing and went to mining in the early
| days of San Francisco. and there when
| was Il little boy of 10 he died, leaving
mother with not many thousand dol
lars to take care of herself and me.
You will have your brother to help
you were words he spoke the last day
of his life, and even then | noted how
| little comfort mother seemed to find in
that fact. 1t was only Il few months
after fathers death that Uncle Fred,
from being an occasional visitor, came
to living with us all the ti1ne-made
his home there, though seldom within
doors night or day. He was several
years younger than mother. Hc was
the youngest, it seems, of tho family,
the baby, and had been petted and
found why he came. Mother was often
in tears, Uncle Fred always begging or
demanding money. The boys ut school
twitted mo about my gambler uncle,
though I've no doubt their fathers gam
bled as much as he. These were just
before the early days of the great war
that sprang up i'll 1861 and that we boys
out ON the Pacific coast only vaguely
understood. Sometimes Uncle Fred
came home drunk, and | could hear
him threatening poor mother, and things
went from bad to worse, and one night
when l was just 13 l was awakened
from sound sleep by her scream. In an
instant flew to her room, catching up
as L ran fathers old bowie knife that
always hung by my door. In the dim
light / saw her lying by the bedside, a
man bending over and choking her.
With all my strength | slashed mt him
just rs he turned. | meant to kill, but
the turn saved him. He sprang to his
feet with an oath and cry and rushed
TO the wnshstand. | had laid Uncle
Frcd's cheek open from ear to chin.
1t was long before mother could
check the flow of the blood. 1t sohcred
him, of course. and made him pitcously
weak. For days after that she nursed
and cared for him. but forbade my en-
tcring the room. Men came to see him
insisted on seeing hm-and she
would send me to the bank for gold and
pay their claims and bid them 20.
AT last he was able 10 walk ont with
that awful slash on his thin white
face. Once then he met and cursed
me, but ! did not mind had acted
only to save mother. How could ! sup
pose that her assailant was her own
brother? Then finally with sobs ami
tears she told me the story. how he had
been their mothers darling, how wild
and reckless was his youth, how her
mothers last thought seemed TO be for
him, and how ON her knees she, my
own mother promised 10 take care of
poor Freddie and shield him from every
i'll, and this promise she repeated to me,
bidding me help her kecpit and TO con
ccal us far as | could her brother $ mis-
deeds. For "a few months things went
ii little better. Uncle Fred got Il com
mission i'll % California regiment toward
the close of the war and WAS sent down
to Arizona. Then came more tears
and trouble. couldn't understand il
all then, but 1 do now. Uncle Fred
was gambling again, drawing on her
for means 80 meet his losses The old
home went under the hammer. and we
moved down to San Diego. where father
had once invested and had left Il little
property. And then came the news
that Uncle Fred had been dismissed, all
on account of drink and gambling and