Willmar tribune., 1900-01-17


stream. just as faint streak OF
light illumined the eastern sky one
morning two privates clasped hanIs
with the pickets on No. Z, listened to
q last word of caution from an officer
and then silently waded the stream
and disappeared in the timber on
the opposite shore. The officer stood
1notionless for a few moments, with
ears strained for sound cf the scouts,
and then, as the blazing sun leaped
above the horizon without the pre-
liminary of a dawn, he turned and
walked through the dusty streets of
Jaro to his quarters. r
It lacked an hour of midday. A mile
to the south of Jaro, in a slight dip in
the rolling prairie, two men in khaki
uniforms wriggled cautiously through
the tall sun-crisped grass. The sun di-
rectly overhead volleyed white-hot ar
rows that pierced them through and
through. They reeked with perspira-
tion; their faces were thorn-torn and
dust-smeared. The horny right hand
of each was wound in blue handker-
chief to protect it from the blistering
heat of the rifles they dragged along
the ground beside them. They moved
by inches, their faces fattened to the
ground. After gaining each foot or so
of ground they rested side by side, their
cheeks fiat to the ground and looking
in each others bloodshot eyes. They
painted and their tongues lolled like
those of heat-spent dogs in August.
Their dust-crusted lips gasped for wa
ter and their lungs sucked wistfully for
air. Thus slowly, arduously, they pro-
gressed for another mile. Then one of
them lifted himself cautiously to his
knees and glanced first forward and
then to the rear. Then he f1attened
out again, and, painting, whispered:
"We're two-thirds of tn way from
timber to timber"
"Sight any Kakiack pickets?" asked
the other.
! A shake of the head was the answer,
and again the two men painted and
stared in each others eyes. Their lungs
labored huskily. The animate earth
! seemed in dizzy, strangled silence for
lack of air.
"Sevenspot," finally gasped the
larger man of the two, 'if you were in
the Waldorf-Astoria right now, what
would you order?'
Sevenspot Tapped swollen, dust
rough tongue along his cracked lips.
"Darned av I know" he whispered,
"but av I were in Dolan's I'd order
corned bafe an billed cabbig an keg
av cool beer"
"Bill," continued Sevenspot, after a
breathing spell, "pwhat putt a college
man loike you in tn regulars?"
Bill hesitated, under perssure of mois-
tening his lips with a moistureless
! tongue. Then he whispered vehement
ly, fercely: 'Back in the states, in
time of peace, an enlisted man is dog,
isn't hep
Sevenspot nodded.
But now"
Sevenspot nodded again.
"But now," continued Bill, passion
ately, land right here, soldier is a
man. And he wouldn't step aside to
kick the shins of the feather-bed men
who look down upon him in the states,
would he? The featherbeds back there
wonder what fool soldier of $3.50
finds to be proud of. If one of them
could be in my boots right now and
could feel like do in here, right now,
he'd know, wouldn't he?"
Bill struck his breast with his
clenched fist, and Sevenspot nodded.
nd
ly, "there was a.
He came to full stop. Sevenspot
waited and then finished the sentence
for him: "A woman in it! Not
brown, but white Margarita! An ye
think she'll weep bit when she sees
your name among tn dead heroes?
An you're married to a betel-chewin'
brown wan"
''Sevenspot," began Bill, shave you
ever noticed"
With his rifle barrel Sevenspot list
lessly poked tarantula that was COM
ing his way and headed it in the other
direction. It would have required an
effort to lift the rifle and smash it.
''Sevenspot," resumed Bill, "did you
ever hear bird sing on this island?"
Sevenspot shook his head. Then he
said: "But there's an ondacint lizard,
about two feet long, pwhat roosts in tn
timbers over me bunk an shouts in his
slape. An there's another that clat-
ters all night long loike sewin' ma
chine. Maybe he do be singer"
The big man paid no heed to this wit
ticism.
Did you ever hear woman sing on
this island?" he asked.
Never" said Sevenspot, "but Mar
garita, that. swate Kakiack wife av
yours, Bill, called me something th' yes
therday. Pwativer it may name, it.
sounds uncomplimenthary."
"And is so," said Bill, ''and did YOU
ever hear a man sing on this island?"
"Niver," said Sevenspot, "onless We
call it singin' when Beno Brown gets
spifaicated an howls woe is me, with
no whiskee.'" -.
"sevenspot," persisted Bill, "did you
ever hear girl laugh on this island?":
Sevenspot shook his head.
"'Tis toime," he said, ''that we moved
on bit av we are to make that ridge
an get tn lay av tn land tn avenin' an
back by mornin'."
They wriggled ahead to the crest of
the next swell of the prairie. As they
rested Bill asked:
"Or boy whistler