The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1895-03-23
BATTLES OF A BOY.

the front steps made an abrupt descent
down the incline toward the distant river.
while the back door opened into CELLAR
dug out of the solid earth.
The only occupants of this cherries
place, which one would be loath to call a
home, were a widow and her son. The
icy hand of death had already begun to
oaress the mother. The sharp, dry cough
that racked her shadowy form told too
plainly the story of her suffering.
The sunset light was still illuminating
the western sky and shedding its brilliant
reflection on the waters of the Missouri as
John Millar walked slowly across the
prairie toward the bluff where his moth
er's house chung to the dark soil like gray
liohen to rock. The sight that met his
eyes was one that would have discouraged
a strong man. The fall wind had blown
the dried leaves from the cottonwood trees
hither and thither; the tum bleweeds rolled
over and over, chasing each other in end
less journeys back and forth across the
lonesome stretch of land. A few half
fedged chickens had already gone to roost
on the wood pile near the door. On a line
stretched between two posts hung few
patched garments tapping in the wind
John was 16 years old. Since he could
/ remember everything had looked as it
looked now. He could not recall a time
when his mother had not coughed or when
the house had not looked as if family
had just moved out. His father had gone
west with his wife and baby when John
was less than a year old, and the house
that stood on the side hill now was the
one that hardy Jacob Millar had built
with his own hands-built hoping and
expecting that before five years were over
he would own thriving, we'll equipped
farm. A half broken colt that he was rid
ing to the village plunged, reared and
threw him to the ground, then bounded
riderless across the trackless prairie.
When they found Jacob E1ilIar, he was
dead, and the frail woman who had come
to share her husband lot in this distant
land had no choice but to remain. Their
original claim was rented to neighbours
and the little income theFefrom kept the
mother and child from absolute starva-
ton
Since Johns eighth birthday he had at
tended the village school, and now as he
| was walking slowly home be was thinking
over and over the words that had just been
said to him by the head of an engineering
party that was surveying a railroad
| through the country, and whose work he
had stopped to watch. The opportunity
| he had lOnged for had come. He need not
| spend his life in that miserable dugout.
] There was a broader field opening before
| him. He could have work with the sur
|
| with chiIls, and they needed help. He
could leave this cherries scene. He could
be part of the great human pulse which
| he felt beating against the arteries of the
world, and which he now thought himself
| to be separated from.
Why did he walk SO slowly? Why was
| his head bent on his breast, his step like
| the step of one oppressed by the weight of
years? 1t was the vision before his mind
L. L
! of two large brown eyes dulled by suffer
ing, of bent shoulders and languid step.
| Could he leave her? Leave her alone in
| that desolate place while he went out alone
| to earn money to buy her luxuries that
| would make her life more com Portable?
| Was that why he wished to accept the ell
| gineer's offer and leave this scene behind
| him? Was it for her, or was it that he
was hungry for the world which he had
| never seen, but which be knew existed?
AS he walked toward the house the door
opened, and thin little figure moved out
into the sunset light. She lifted her hand
to shade her eyes and looked anxiously at
| him as he approached.
John did not have it in his heart to tell
her what was on his mind, but with
womans intuition and mothers quick
perception she read instantly that some
thing unusual had occurred. With the
tact of her sex she said nothing of what
the boys face so plainly told her, and to-
gether they entered their home.
Mrs. Millar made an effort toward pre-
pairing supper, but paroxysm of cough
ing seized her, and she was obliged to lie
down. The boy took candle and disap-
peared into the cellar, returning with the
potatoes and bacon which served for their
evening meal.
Scarcely a word was spoken. Should
he tell her? Could he leave herr What
would she say?. He had never been more
than ten miles from the village. The
| thought that this was the opportunity of
his life made every fiber of his being vi
brate with the intensity of his desire to
go. Night came on, and he climbed the
| ladder and threw himself dressed as he
was, upon his straw mattress, and with
| wide open eyes that saw nothing of his
surroundings he turned the question over
and over in his mind. Ambition, desire
curiosity, love of adventure, all said CO.
! Love for the frail little woman who lay
tossing restlessly on her bed in the room
below held him back. What was the use
| of two being wretched here? If he were
| gone, the little money would go further
! for her But then came the other thought
she was his mother, and he loved her
and with tear that his manliness stroye
| to hide even from himself he resolved that
come what might his lot should be cast
| with hers.
|
One who has not seen a prairie fire can
form no conception of it; but, on the 9th
er hand, having seen one, the memory can
never be effaced.
| John Millar started In his sleep; he
opened his eyes in alarm. Was the sun
set light still lingering in the heavensS
Indeed, no. The situation flashed on him
instantly, and hastily descending to the
door he saw that the demon of the prairie
was coming on with lightning speed.
There was safety in the river. Could they
reach it? In another moment he had
caught his mother in his arms, and bare
| headed he rushed out into the night He
| cn11ld haar ha Of 10 iu,.z all