The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1899-01-06

Ozark 0eeQ tnat tnfeatene0 the prisoners
at the Mission that night.
Mike leaped as If he had been hit by a
bullet.
''Why wasn't this the first word We
said to met" he roared. go back and
bide beside him whilst go for the boat.
Please God no wan has helped himself
to it, an me danderin' here!"
"Do you believe it?" Faith exclaimed,
in voice of awe.
do I believe there's devils in hell?
I'll pack him out av this, if have to
shwim wild him on me back"
Darcie was asleep. He rested. after
pain. and excitement, and thirst, and
weary journeyings. Faith watched be-
side him and listened to his mutterings,
and held her own breath in pauses of
his inconstant breathing. Sometimes he
painted "like dog that hunts in
Dreams" his features twitched, he
plucked with his hands; then his
troubled spirit would exhale in a long
sigh. and gradually, in climbing in
tensity, the travail of delirium would
resume its sway. His eyes glittered be-
tween half-parted lids; the yellow
green light under the trees, mingling
with the reflection from the river,
made his ashen color CHASTITY. Faith
hung upon his breathing. hurried and
fast or deep and slow. as the one sure
contradiction of his death-like aspect.
The strange wind which brought no
rain kept blowing and blowing, as if it
would blow out all the last red sparks
of sunlight. Her hopes went out with
them. The dull sunset embers began to
glow. She could hear no sounds but of
wind striving with the trees, or water
heavily Tapping as it coursed along the
bank. She wished for utter stiffness
that she might project, by ear, her
knowledge of what was coming, beyond
her powers of sight, but nothing could
be heard above the crisp, gallant roar
and rustic of the summer gale. All ma
ture seemed to call to her to be up and
ready! to fly. fly! But those that can
neither fight nor fly, must hide, must
hush. as she was hushing her sleeper
by the darkling stream.
She sat in silence. and her thoughts
drifted in trite phrases, and in frag-
ments of old songs. as unguided wheels
slip into old ruts of the way that the
crazed or grief-blind driver goes.
"Oh. hush thee. my baby; the hour may
come
When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet
and drum"
she found herself grooming over and
over senselessly to herself; but where
were the trumpets and drums, that
call to arms in the name of peace-the
law and order music? Far from the old
Mission that night, and it's dark, empty
sanctuary, and it's helpless prisoners
of labor, waiting as unconscious as
sheep that have been fed and folded at
dusk to be harried at midnight by a
pack of masterless dogs!
At about half after seven o'clock, as
the story of this evening goes, hand
car, black with men, came down the
track, and stopped within half mile of
Mission station. The number of men on
the car is not known. It is supposed
that they were assisted by others who
were expecting them at the Mission;
and these men, SO it is said, were armed
prisoners train. But all were armed,
in one way or another, with weapons
furnished by the Miners union of the
Occur dAlene, or by their brothers of
Butte.
The hand-car brigade ran down the
track on both sides, and opened fire
upon the surprised groups at the sta
ton One or two 0f them went throuUh
the cars that stood upon the track.
shouting to the "scabs' within: "Git
out of here, you -" There was never
a word too bad for "scab." They were
likewise driven forth from the shelter
of the hotel by the prudent landlord,
whose windows were being smashed by
bullets. The hounds were loud in the
mouth, but the sheep were silent and
ran. Some of them ran across the
track. and jumped into the river; some
struggled desperately through the long
grass of the Mission meadows. The
cool-headed ones hid in the grass, or
crept into the bushes, or made their
way along the shore in the shelter of
the river bank. OF the fate of those
who fled up into the wild defile called
Fourth of July canyon much has been
asserted and denied on both sides, but
little will ever be known; the canyon and
the river have been deeply questioned,
but they bear no witness, and they tell
no tales.
fro BE Continued