People's voice. [volume] (Wellington, Sumner County, Kansas) 1890-1917, 1895-12-19

and went leaping like a colt along his
post to the point where it was crossed
by the Prescott road, and instead of
the prolonged and melodious call of the
hour, when it came his turn, it was the
sentry's challenge-sharp, clear and
imperative-that split the morning air.
There was something nerve tingling,
something that smacked of swift COM
ing alarm in the very tone, and its only
answer at the front was the quick, ris-
ing thud of galloping horses hoofs.
Again rang the challenge-all three
words jumbling this time into one
"Whocomeshere?"- Halt" Halt,
or III fre!" and then Raymond's power
full tones rang out through the breath
less air
Hold your fire, sentry. That horse
has no riderr'
But the only answer was the loud
bang Of the Springfield and the leaden
bullet went whistling away toward the
pole star. That sentry had heard
enough of the perils Of post No. S for
one night, and preferred to take no
chances. Sure, l didn't hear the cap
tain," he explained, a few minutes
later. He heard only the rapid coming
of horses hOofs, and despite the fact
that horses were things the mountain
Apaches never thought Of using except
when hungry, Private Hanrahan be-
heved all the Tonic tribe were coming
and let drive accordingly. 1t was only
troop horse, blown and bleeding, only
another evidence Of the devilish Gun,
ming Of the savage foe, for the moment
Corporal Dunn could reach them on the
jump, he cried, with sob in his voice;
"It's Tralee, Of G troop, sir. Jim Raj.
terty's horse" And so at last here was
Fosters courier from Ration Springs
but where were the dispatches? Where,
alas, was Jim? Tralee's heaving tanks
and distended nostrils and eyeballs told
his story Of peril and homewad fight,
even as the long welt In his broad
haunch and the cash through the high
pommel OF the Mcclellan tree were elo-
quent Of It's cause. Like Ruckel, the
sentry, poor Rafferty,, homeward speed,
ing with his captains midnight dis.
patch, had been ambushed at the road,
side.
Another thrill to the chorus of excite
ment that had throbbed the long night
through, and yet not the last There
were still left a few minutes to dark
ness, and the devil Of mischief seemed
afoat in the very air. "Go and tell Mrs
Foster the truth the best way you can,
said the major, miserably, to his adju
tant. There she is on the veranda
now. III 70 round the west side of the
Office You can join me there. Yes
Turner, mount and start at once II yom
men have had their coffee. Now SWEEP
that road clean from here to the Sandy
and don't leave an Indian to tell the
story. Look for Foster or his men and
try to find Rafferty," And so saying
he turned him to the west and pushed
slowly up the slope, a heavy-hearteG
man. Almost the last thing he heard
as he reached the end of officers row
was Nellie Fosters weeping. If stout
soldierlike Irish Jim could be so swiftly,
surely mastered by unseen foes what
must have been Icons fate? Little
black-eyed Leon riding alone, unarmed
with Mrs. Downey's sorely needed
medicine, through the dark depths Of
this Indian-haunted night? But now
the mountain tops were all shimmerine
with the glow of coming day, and ever
into the valley depths the faint light
seemed to peer, and still there walked
no sign of life from the distant outpost,
no measuring flame to warm his heart
with tidings Of the boys safe coming
but something new and weird and
strange was bullying Signal Butte all
out Of shape and the sentry on No. (.
stood halted in fascination and amaze
The purple fringe Of the familiar pin,
crest seemed to be soaring slowly up
ward, drawn out into a floating curl
rose-tinted ct the top where it met tn,