The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1897-09-09

fear" SO it was that the colonel de
cided upon the latter.
Come to me at half past 8, boy
he said, and turning to ola Jones b
| whispered, Your chance may com
yet. my brave fellow"
Il hope So" replied the old soldier
and, walking away from the spot
Jones threw himself down by an up
turned wagon utterly incoEsolable.
1t was dark, hot, oppressive night
Not star could be seen; the black
heavy clouds stretched themselve,
like pail over the camp as the trum
peter. leading bis horse, passed
through an opening in the breastworl
and set out upon his perilous ride.
Mind and write to my mother
Pete, if don't get through" /" he whis
pered to his comrade as he passed
out.
Never fear. Bunkie, but"-and
| here his comrades voice grew little
husky-"for Gods sake, get through y
| 'pll try was the response, as they
squeezed each others hand and part
Ell.
Soon the watchers in the camp lost
sight of the boy. The sound of his
horses hoofs grew fainter and fainter,
and then died away, but still they
leaned over the breastwork, straining
their eyes in the darkness as they
tried to catch q glimpse of their
young bero.
Nearer and nearer the trumpeter
approached the Indian sentinels,
Sometimes he would stop. listening
intently, then move on, only to stop
again and press his hands over his
horses mouth when he fancied he
heard noise. Suddenly confused
babel broke out upon his right and a
Iurid glare shot skyward. Upon the
brow of hill scarcely mile away
he saw the Indian band dancing and
yelling around fire like a horde of
demons. Creeping further away into
the gloom he murmured as he mount
ed, 80, God give me time" Then he
rode forward.
On the top of the hill which he was
now ascending an Indian sentinel
crouched upon the ground listening
to the approach of the boy. The night
was so dark that he could not make
out the rider until the latter was al
most upon HIM, when quickly firing
his piece he uttered war whoop that
sounded clear across the plain, send
ing dismay into the hearts of the
troopers below.
With fierce exclamation the trum-
peter drove his spurs into his horses
TANKS and discharging his revolver at
the Indian rode madly forward.
Pressing his knees well into his hor
se's sides, with his reips firmly held
IN hand, be dashed down the hill,
closely pursued by the Indians, who,
upon the report of the firearm, had
instantly flung themselves upon their
ponies and started IN the chase.
Now began this race for life. New
er was steeplechase harder ridden.
Away they flew over hill and through
divide, their horses snorting and pant
ing with the violence of the exercise;
over the rocky beds of dried mp rivu
lets, through clumps of scrub oak,
still he pressed on, while the enemy
came laundering in the rear, making
the night resound with their war
whoops and dropping an occasional
shot whenever they thought it would
tell. A stern chase is proverbialIy a
long one, and undoubtedly 1t wonld
have proved SO in this case had not
the boys horse in crossing a piece of
rough ground stumbled. He would
have fallen had he not instantly been
checked up. BY this accident the In
dams were enabled to gain some dis
tance, when they opened fire with a
snrer aim
Bang! bang! and the bullets whis
tied nncomfortably close to our young
herO's ear.
Squirting his animal he songht to
get QUO Of range, and nobly did his
faithful friend respond. Bang! bang!
the guns rang ont again, and the boy
felt a stlnglng sensation in his left
shoulder, his bride arm falling use
less by his side. The agony of the
wound was intense, the motion of the
horse rendering it more so, but still
he retained his seat, knowing that
upon his ability to get through rested
the salvation of a hundred lives.
Bearing now little to the southeast
he struck the trail and furiously dash
ed along it. The sound of his pnrsu
ers grew fainter, then ceased, but he
did not seem to hear, for strange
dizziness came oyer him, and he sway
ed in his saddle like a drunken man.
Clutching at the pommel he murmur
ed as he thought the night grew dark
er, 80, God, let me live an hour, only
an hourT'
SO the night sped on. Sometimes
the horse would relapse into a trot,
and anon resume his swinging lope.
'Oh! that morning would come;
that night would fold up it's funeral
garment and the glad sunshine smile
| upon the earth once more"
How cold the night seemed to the
boy hero as he half fainting sat in the
saddle with his head upon his breast
the warm blood trickling from bis
wound
Would Cache never appear7
But, just as the rosy tingers of the
morn crept up from the east, he saw
with his dying eyes the long blaoi
shadow of the timber that studded
the banks of the creek, and as his
weary comrade uttered joyful neigt
a bugle call rang out on the morning
air, the sound of which frightened ~
the boys face, while his horse shool
its head, neighed again and gallopet
on.
The sound of the horses hoofs
brought number of men outsid,
their tents, who, seeing the pale
deathlibe face of the dispatch bearer
and the limp arm hanging by his side
knew instinctively what was the mat
ter.
| The latter, saeing the men arount
him, drew out lis blood soaked dis
patch and hoarssly whispered: "Th,
general dispateh-uuickr' He woul,