The record-union., 1897-12-12
A DESERTER.

| uooIn OF The invader or the req man
! territory, the exterminator of the red
| mans race. Everywhere throughout
| the Gulf region the dogs of war We're
loose, and two races flew savagely at
one anothers throats. Hamlets burned;
villages abandoned, fell in ruins; white
men, horribly tortured, suffered at the
stake; red men fell in their thousands,
shot, bayoneted, bludgeoned, until at
last the fury of the unequal contest
slackened, and the Indians, broken and
/ despairing, their trusted leaders slain
or captive. laid down their arms and
| swung sullenly from the land of their
| fathers.
1t was early in 1872 that General
Floyd, with his little army Of Georgian
volunteers and 450 friendly Indians,
took up his position on the nights above
the swamps of the Chillibee in Ala
bama. 1t was supposed that large
force of Creeks was lurking in the vi
cinity, though the keenest eyes among
| the scouts had hitherto failed to dis
cover the exact Whereabouts of the
cunning foe. But Floyd was too good
a soldier and too experienced in Indian
warfare to be deceived by appearances;
and, Notwithstanding the outward calm,
made most careful preparations against
surprise. Pickets were doubled, pa
trolls moved necessarily to and fro; and
though wearied by his long march, a
brief hour of sleep was all the watch
| ful commander allowed himself to
snatch.
Far away on the outermost line of
sentrles Amos Duerden stood on guard.
Still as a statue, he leaned against the
| trunk of great tree and peered into
| the thick darkness that surrounded
him, or strained his ears to catch the
falntest sound that might break the
| oppressive stiffness. Bravest where
all were brave, strong of muscle and
stout Of heart, there was no one in his
army in whom Floyd reposed more con-
| fldence than in Amos Duerdon; none
who might be trusted SO well to stand
| firm and do his duty, though death
| came to him in the doing. Therefore it
| was that he had been selected for this
lonely outpost, the most dangerous OF
ALL where his firmness and knowledge
Of the country would stand the white
men in good stead against the craft of
| their duSky foes.
Yet were the thoughts of Amos not
altogether with the army. Twenty
miles away to the northwest lay a lit
| tie village, never destined to attain to
the dignity of a town, which bore the
picturesque Indian name Whispering
Pines Towards this Duerden's heart
turned as he kept his watch; for there,
waiting until the war should be over,
waiting in fear and trembling for her
lovers safety, lived Agnes Brotherton
his wife that was to be.
No wonder Amos was anxious, for
rumor had it that Whispering Pines
was in the track of the Creek advance,
and if that were So He put the
thought from him as one too horTid to
be entertained.
Away to his right a brook murmur-
| ing mysteriously, rolled through the
blackness; but save for that slumber-
Gus SOUND, all was still. Ahead, be-
hind, in front, all around was inky
black; but above. through the dark
boughs of the pines, the stars looked
down upon the watcher, and ever and
anon one fell steaming like signal
rocket athwart the sky.
"'Tis monstrous dark here" thought
Amos, Strengthening his tall form, and
| grasping his muSket firmly at the
sound of a twig swapping somewhere
| away to the left. A man might De
slain here ere he knew he was at
tackled Then, as silence reigned once
more, II trust all is well with them at
Whispering Pines. If Agnes and hef
mother had but followed my advice and
moved north out Of this accursed coun-
try, l should have no fear. AS ii is
Again a twig snapped suddenly-thls
time at his very feet; and, almost be-
fore he could recall his straggline
thoughts, a dark form rose swiftly from
the ground, and a hand was laid light
ly upon his lips.
Steady" breathed a voice in his
ear, so low that he could scarcely cater
the articulate words Steady! All's
well! I'm Rivington. Who are your
Before Amos could reply the man went
on: THE redskins are coming on in
force. They are not much more thar
| five miles away They have swep'
through Whispering Pines, and cleaned
out the village. Not soul left, Tn
told But they brought away some wo-
| men prisoners. Agnes Brotherton Is
one of them. If you see Duerden, tel
him. I'm off to let the General know
1 think they'll attack about daybreak.
He dropped to the ground, and glided
away while for an instant Amos drew
himself up against his tree, stiff witt
horror There could be no mistake
| Mark Rivington was too careful a scout
for that, and he was an old friend of
Duerdens too. Hence his anxiety tC
impart his fateful news to the first
man he met. And the enemy was but
five miles away, and coming on ir
force The camp would be attacked
What of that? What was that to him
Agnesi Agnes was in the hands of the
brutal redskins. Rivington had heard
that, and yet he had done nothing tc
save her In the bitterness of his grie1
and dismay Amos cursed the friend
who, recognizing him in the dark, ha6
impaired the grewsOme news.
AS these wild thoughts courseG
through his brain, yet another sound
close to him, startled him. No rustline
branch nor swapping twig this time
but dull, smashing sound, a low moan
and silence. Then a sudden rush, 6
swish, a sharp thud as the keen blade
of a tomahawk was buried in the trunk
of a tree an inch from his face, anc
Amos found himself hugged against tht
brawny chest of a greasy savage, whose
hot breath painted against his cheek
and who strove nightly to bring hin
to the ground His musket dropped te
the ground at the shock; but with &
twist Amos freed his left arm and drove
his knife deep into the throat of his
assailant, who sank with a gurglins
sob to the ground.
"One!" muttered Amos grimly, anG
| waited for the next. But none came