Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1899-08-17

friends"
When we had finished the meal, the
little beggars from outside came in and
collected in their tin cans what was left
on our plates; then we had to distrib-
ute "oon cent" apiece to them. We
parted from Good-by after giving her a
dollar for her aunt, and promising to
call on the family.
Things went on rather monotonous-
ly in camp-the usual round of drill
and guard duty; sometimes a skirmish
and mock engagement through the
ncighboring hills. Once we had o real
Skirmish with band of guerillas, and
captured them after killing two. For
amusement we explored the adjacent
country by twos and threes, or made
excursions to the sea coast ut Mariel,
eight miles away; some took kodak
pictures, others collected Spanish rel
les; some madepets of chameleons, dogs,
flghtiug-cocks and parrots; others
passed away the time by writing end
less letters. Finally word came that
Uncle Sam considered we had done our
stint, and that the regiment was to be
ordered home and mustered out Pay
day arrived about the same time. The
double exhilaration OF money and
superlatively good news for awhile
rather destroyed discipline. regret
to say that among the many fncarcer-
ated in the guardhouse was my tent
mate Boutelle.
Good-by trudged up to camp the next
afternoon. She stood in the blazing sun
by the side of the road for half an hour
before she found courage to ask the
ferce-whiskcred sentry 10. to let her
pass the line. She carried, well wrapped
UP in paper, Cuban machete, her late
uncle's, which she intended to pre-
sent to Senior Boutelle.
NO." sid the sentry. you can't pass.
Vqmoose!"
The officer of the guard emerged
from one Of the guardhouse tents at
this moment, and saw the little girl.
He knew some Spanish, and asked her
what she wanted.
81 want to see the soldier Senior Bou-
telle," she faltered.
The young lieutenant was roguish
fellow, and amused himself by drawing
out the child.
49," he said, Anita Good-by, Pri-
vate Boutelle is your friend. am ex-
tremely sorry to inform you that Pri-
vate Boutelle is prisoner. he was
found asleep on his post last night. He
will be shot in the morning, He's dig
ging sink now, SO you can't see him.
Come again at sunset"
The officer chuckled as he was called
away to attend to some business.
Good-By crept back to the road with
face blanched and her little heart
frozen with horror. She wandered
slowly up and down the long white
highway in front of camp, shading her
eyes from the suns reflected glare with
small brown hand. The full enor
nifty Of the intelligence seemed to be
more than she could grasp, yet she
could appreciate enough to fill her with
dreadful stunning grief. Death she had
seen; an old. emaciated woman gasp
convulsirely @ few times, and then turn
white and rigid. That was not much;
the old woman was scarcely different
dead than alive. Death she had heard
closely described as it happened in
the ambush when Spaniard and Cuban
met. That had not sunk deeply in her
mind. Here was full-blooded, hand
some young man OF the superior race,
whose vivacious kind spirit was to be
shot out Of him, his fine, strong body
turned 10 montionless earth in the
twinkling of an eye by lead bullets dis
charged by his own comrades. And
he was her friend! Her friend!
Good-by's frenzy of woe lasted for
some couple Of hours. Then she began
to think practically little, and finally
translated her meditation into action as
follows:
The colonel sat In front Of his tent
smoking pipe, He consulted his watch
to see how far 1t was from time for the
bugle-call for dress parade, and when
lie looked up again there stood before
him q ragged little bare-headed beg
gar girl, very pale, one hand tightly
:lutching something done up in paper,
and the other hand on her heart.
"Hello!" said the colonel; "who are
you, and how did you get hcre2"
Your excellency,' responded Good
by, touching her forehead with her left
hand in imitation of the military salute,
Il ran across the line when the senti-
mel wasn't looking. My name is Anita.
but the soldiers call me Good-by."
"You ran across the line, EN-? That
was serious business. Why did you run
across the line2 Whom did you want to
see?"
"You, Senior Coronel."
AL What can you want Of me, Miss
Goodbye"
"save his life, coronell" and, unable
tocontain herself longer, Good-by burst
into a series of little sobs.
"Come, come" said the colonel, with
pretended gruffness. Don't cry. Tx
plaln yourseI1 auu wiz SoHo4H~- ~
application, whatever it is. Whose life
do you want me to saver"
"Senor Boutelle's," gasped the child.
"Boutelle, Boutelle," repeated the
colonel, in low voice; that must be
that stalwart Sergt. Boutelle, of COM
pany D, reduced for drinking. What
the deuce this brat means about him
can't make out" Then aloud:
"Well, my bold young petitioner, how
shall I save Private Boutelle's hfe?"
"You have the power, senior. He-he
slept last night on the guard-line, and
they tell me he will be shot in the morn
ing"
$50, So" commented the colonel.
"Who told you he would be shot?"
can officer at the guardhousc, lieu
tenant, / think, senior"