The Opelousas courier., 1899-09-09


lief was coming. He could not be
mistaken-that was the sound of his
approaching deliverance-yes, there
was the head of the line within so yard.
Of him. Now he could sleep. so!
how tired [ am; how blessed this
sleep!"
@And So they found him, sound
asleep at his post. It might have
been for amoment; it might have been
for two hours. Asleep he was, at any
rate, when relief arrived. His post
was the most import Forrn the whole
line, and it's selcinef asfuap! How
could they know he had fo~sht so
hard to keep awake-and he hathonly
fallen as they kere at hand? They
had found him so, anh it was deafh
He knew that. He had not been in
the service six years to forget that.
There was no excuse that would save
a sentinel from death who fell asleep
at his post in time Of wal and in the
face of the enemy. AS the grim faces
OF the men that fell in about him to
take him to the'guardhouse showed no
IS VI So1ipNooloA3 So ANVIL OA lCui-
lied that he could expect none from
any quarter, but must suffer the full
penalty of his crime.
1t did not occupy much time, his
trial and conviction. The days we're
too busy for that those days before
Santiago, between Ell Caney, San Juan
and the surrender.
Ihou xuoro rrir,, md ,,11,1or 1loo1y
eaed, with torn and faded uniforms,
that group of officers quickly called
together for court-martial, but they
were stern and just. The evidence
was clear-there was no defence-the
sentence brief. Private Morton for
sleeping on post was to be shot to
death, in the presence of his regiment,
the following day at noon. The action
OF the court-martial had been approved
by the commander, and but a few short
hours remained for the condemned
man between this and another world.
In the old San Juan blockhouse,
that served as a prison now, lay Private
Morton, stretched on the rough floor
and covered with his blanket. There
was time enough to sleep here, and
that sleep which seemed so precious
but a short time ago, and which would
finally cost him his life, why would it
not come to him now and shut out the
awful realities of his position? Why
could he not stop thinking for a mo-
ment and sleep? Perhaps it would
come If he would only turn on the
other side. No, that foot panied too
badly. Why did it not pain enough
to keep him awake that dreadful
night-when was it,a year ago or only
last night? He could not tell, for he
had lost all sense Of time. Was he
going crazy? It was not such a dread
full thing to die. He had faced death
a thousand times and was not afraid
of that. During that charge up the
hill the lieutenant had called to him,
"Private Morton, cut these wires"
He was not afraid then, but had
stepped out Of the brush into that hor-
nets nest of lead and with his nippers
cut every wire before he left-and not
a bullet hit him, though the lieuten-
ant and eight OF ten other men fell
dead before they got through the gap
he had made. Perhaps he bore a
charmed life, and they might not hit
him when they came to try to kill
him next day. 1t was the disgrace of
it all, though. Gin the presence of
his regiment"-that had been the sem
tence, and the disgrace of standing
before his comrades, condemned for
neglect of duty, he, Private Morton,
who had served six years in his regi-
ment and had never a mark against
his name before. This was worse than
death. If he could only sleep a little
while and forget that part OF. it. But
that tooth would persist in paining
so, and one ragged point kept cutting
his tongue and filling his mouth with
blood that almost choked him at times,
so that no sleep would come.
With such feverish fancies did the
night pass away, and then the brief
forenoon seemed all too short. They
would come for him in few moments,
aud he would march out and meet his
doom before the whole regiment. Who
would come, and who would be told
off for the firing party? He hoped
they would be good shots. Freddy"
James would surely be one; he was al
ways on every special detail, and that
bristling red moustache would be sure
to stand out sitter than ever today.
''Mealy" Mason would be another.
He was the man the sergeant always
detailed to shoot the sick and disabled
the summer they we're up in
the Bad Lands. But before he could
count up anymore the lieutenant came
inform him that the time was up
and he must march to the place of ex-
ecution.
It struck him as a little peculiar
just then that no chaplain had been
sent to help smooth his pathway to
the grave; but it did not give him
much concern, as he never had. much
use for a chaplain anyway, and all the
boys knew it. Another thing seemed
queer. Had he not seer the lieuten-
ant fall there at the barbed-wire fence
with a bullet through his head? But
here he was and did not seem to be
any the worse for it, only his face
was terribly white and CHASTITY, and a
great splash of blood almost covered
Ills once white gauntlet. Now he came
think of it, "Mealy" had fallen at
,he fence with the whole side of his
1ead torn away, SO after all he would
1ot be one Of the firing party. He
wondered if his mother would know
If his disgrace and if she would be
here. He remembered now that he
lad heard her voice singing Crock of