The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1896-12-25

ehce, Dut only Tor yourself. You are in
danger"
He crushed the letter in his hand
Tell me-" he said, in fierce whisper
Selling her arm, I" and speak low. When
did you leave her?"
"Sho'ly-just now!" gasped the
frightened woman.
He flung her aside. There might be
still time to overtake and save her be.
fore she reached the picket lines. He
ran up the gully and out on to the slope
towards the first guard post. But ia.
miliar challenge reached his ear, and
his heart stopped beating.
who goes there?'
There was pause. n rattle of arms
voices, another pause-and Brant stood
rooted to the spot. Then the voice rose
again, slowly and clearly: pass the
mulatto woman!"
Thank God! she was saved! But the
thought had scarcely crossed his mind
before it seemed to him that a binding
crackle of sparks burst out along the
whole slope below the wall, charac.
teristic yell, which he knew too well,
rang in his ears, and an undulatine
line OF dusty soldiers came leaping like
gray wolves out of the mist upon his
Pickets. He heard the shouts of his
men falling back as they fired; the
harsh commands of few officers hur-
rying to their posts, and knew that he
was hopelessly surprised and sur
rounded.
| He ran forward among his disorgan-
lied men. To his CONSERVATION no one
'seemed to heed him! Then the remem-
brance of his disguise flashed upon
him. But he had only time to throw
away his hat and snatch a sword from
a falling lieutenant before a scorchinc
flash seemed to pass before his eyes
and burn through his hair, and he
dropped like a log beside his subaltern.
An aching under the bandage around
his head, where the spent bullet had
grazed his scalp, and the sound of i'm
possible voices in his ears were all he
knew as he struggled slowly back to
consciousness again. Even then it still
seemed delusion, for he was lying in
the hospital of the headquarters. with
| officers of the division staff around him.
| and the division commander himself
standing by his cot, and regarding him
with an air of grave, but not unkindly
concern. But the wounded man felt in
stinctively that it was not the effect
of his physical condition. and sense
of shame came suddenly over him,
which was not dissipated by his supe-
rior's words. For, motioning the
others aside, the major general leaned
over his cot, and said:
Until few months ago the report
was that you had been captured in the
first rush of the rear guard, which we
were rolling up for your attack, and
when you were picked up. just now, in
plain clothes on the slope, you were not
recognized. The one thing seemed to
be as improbable as the other" he
added, significantly.
The miserable truth flashed across
Brant's mind. Hooker must have been
captured in his clothes-perhaps in
some extravagant sally-and had not
been recognized in the confusion by
his own officers. Nevertheless he raised
his eyes to his superior.
'You got my note?"
The generals brow darkened. EYES,"
he said, slowly, "but finding you thus
unprepared-I had been thinking just
now that you had been deceived by
that woman-or by others-and that it
was clumsy forgery. He stopped,
and seeing the hopeless bewilderment
in the face of the wounded man, added,
more kindly: 'But we will not talk of
that in your present condition. The
doctor says a few hours will put you
straight again. Get strong-for l
want you to lose no time-for your
own sake-to report yourself at Wash
ington."
Report myself-at Washington
repeated Brant, slowly.
THAT was last nights ORDER" said
the commander, with military curt
ness. Then he burst out: II dou't I'M
derstand it, Brant! 1 believe you have
been misunderstood, misrepresented,
perhaps maligned-and 1 shall make it
my business to see the thing through
but these are the department orders.
And for the present. am sorry to say
you are relieved of your command"
He turned away, and Brant closed
his eyes. With it it seemed to him that
he closed his career. No one would ever
understand his eXplanation-even had
he been tempted to give it, and he
knew he never would. Everything was
over now. Even this wretched bullet
had not struck him fairly, and culmi-
mated his fate as it might. For an in
slant he recalled his wife's last offer
to fly with him beyond the SEASIDE
yond this cruel injustice-but even
as he recalled it he knew that flight
meant the worst of ala half confess
sion. But she had escaped. Thank
God for that! Again and again, in his
hopeless perplexity, this comfort re-
turned to him. He had saved her. He
had done his duty. And harping upon
this in his strange fatalism, it at last
seemed to him that this was for what
he had lived, for what he had suffered,
for what he had fifty ended his career.
Perhaps it was left for him now to pass
his remaining years in forgotten exile,
even as his father had, his father-his
breath came quickly at the thought
God knows, perhaps as wrongfully |
accused. 1t may have been a Prov
dence that she had borne no child, to
whom this dreadful heritage could be |
transmitted.
There was something of this strange |