Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1899-12-06
HAWTHORNE EsMERALDA COUNTY, NEvADA ADECEMBER g. 1899

the great writer thereof waited hut for
the word 10 dip his master pen in the
blood of the nations best and begin the
task of writing it.
Who gave the command? God only
knows, But some one gave 1t. and With
whoop learned on the great ranches
of the West the Rough Riders" start.
ed up the tiame-swept hill \ dash Of
few yards, a halt to fire. and then an.
other dash. See them fall.
See The line wayer! Where are the
volunteers? There they come strug-
Cling and s,ragglmg. each maa for him.
self, fcT the officers have disappeared
Brave men are they. but what can men
do in {: time like this without leaders?
Can the trough riders live through
that awful fire? VIII help never
come?
All, thank God! There Is the wild,
weird shout of the buffalo soldiers"
Hear them singing as they rush TO
their death or to a glorious victory
Forgotten are the years when the llag
that led them was Haunting lie. For
gotten are the days when oppression
under that flag was their lot. Remcm.
bered only is the fact that under that
flag they are to-day freemen! And on
come the gallant black boys. sweeping
through the ranks of the brave but
disorganized volunteers, up against the
wavering line of plainsmen and city
men enlisted in the "R0ugh Riders"
who will be wiped off the earth before
they fall back.
A brayer charge was never made
than that of the Tenth on that awful
day when Spain's hold in the Western
hemisphere was loosed forever, and her
days Of cruel oppression ended within
sound of the shores where freedom
reigns supreme.
And 'Rastus! The sound of the first
shot awakened within him the martial
spirit born with him in the contra
band camp within sight of the camp
fires Of "Uncle Billy" The command
to forward, charger filled his soul
with glee, and up he went, forgetful Of
alignment : of everything but his
bounden duty to ballast with Uncle
Sans lead as many "Spanyahds" as
possible. On he goes, kneeling, firing,
running, kneeling and firing again, un-
til the barrel of his Krag -Jorgensen
blisters the palms of his black hands.
See, the man with the colors is fall
ing! But the loved emblem does not
touch the ground. With wild shout
'Rastus seizes 1t. He drops his rifle
and with his disengaged hand whips
out his revolver and goes ahead. His
comrades-white and black-see the
colors advancing, and they spring for
ward with renewed zeal. There Is no
color line on that bloody day. Dirt and
dust and powder smoke make white
and black look alike.
See, the Spaniards are deserting the
last intrenchment. They are fleeing in
dismay before the strange enemy that
fires and comes on instead of firing and
falling back. A stalwart man with
kinky hair and cleaning eyes and glis-
tening teeth-a man who bears In one
hand the colors of the Tenth and in
the other a dubbed revolver-leaps
upon the breastworks. A Spaniard
thrusts at him with shining bayonet,
but Is beaten down with the butt of
the revolver. The staff of the Tenth
colors is thrust into the bank and the
kinky-haired man is over in the trench
es, graphing with the Spaniards who
have remained to prove that the spirit
Of old CASTLE has not wholly died out.
And when the conglomerate mass of
black soldiers and Rough Riders
come up to the colors and seize the
trenches they see In the midst of a
circle Of dead Spaniards the PROSTATE
form Of a black, kinky-haired soldier,
and they knew he was Of the gallant
Tenth.
"Ah reckon. gotter few O. dem Span
yahds faded" gasped the dying trooper
as he gazed at the waving folds of the
flag his hands had planted on the Span
ish earthworks.
And white and black alike stopped
over 'Rastus and with cleaning eyes
watched the life of the brave black
man go out beneath the flag he had hon
ored.
Yes, the "colored troops fought no.
bly," that day-as they have always
fought when called upon to fight under
the flag that was once the emblem of
their oppression, but today the EN-
blem of their freedom.
And in an humble cabin there sits an
old black nanny whose chiefest treas
ure is short letter written on a scrap
Of brown paper and signed by an officer
Of the Tenth. 1t told her that 'Rastus
was dead-"died on the field of battle"
Omaha World-Herald.