The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1900-02-03

the naked, brown baby, when, with
fierce, sudden strength, born of an I'm
quenchable hate of the white man,
the dying squaw thrust her keen knife
straight at the heart of her benefactor;
then without moan or cry she sank
back-dedd.
God have mercy on her. whis-
pered the priest gently.
A touch on his shoulder, he turned to
find boyish corporal standing at
attention With grave soldiery
salute the young soldier spoke.
Father, report for absolution; 1 am
mortally wounded.
Il hope not, my son." replied the
priest, and he threw his arm gently
around the slight, trim, blue-coated
figure.
Il must make my confession,
Father" whispered the boy family,
the crisp golden curls, damp with the
dew of death. sinking slowly on the
priests shoulder. Then with faItering
accents and many a halt the boys last
confession was made.
The firing had ceased entirely now,
but scattered far and near lay many a
silent form in army blue and Indian
blanket, while in the dim distance the
victorious squadron of cavalry could
be seen, still in pursuit of the flying
foe determined to avenge as far as
possible the treacherous murder Of
their comrades.
Ego tie absolvo alb omnibus censuris
eft peccatis, in nomine PATHS, at Fill
ct Spiritus Sancti. Amen murmured
the priest, almost audibly.
The blue eyes closed softly the boy
ish form trembled slightly-and all was
over.
Father, I am afraid you are hurt"
cried Mr.. Payne. Il see it is all over
with poor Welner, the smartest cor
poral in our troop, for all he looks a
mere boy; the fellow has a history, no
doubt; he is a gentleman and a for
eigner-some mothers heart will ache
today.
But, Father, can't I do something
for you? You look awfully done up,
and no wonder, such pluck as you have
shown today, sir" ratified on Tommy,
trying to hide his emotion by chatter
ing, for his kindly heart was full to
overlooking.
"Je suis, je suis," whispered the
priest. brokenly, and his tall, gaunt
form swayed slightly.
he is dying, too, while 1 stand chat
tering here" and Tommy beckoned
wildly for help
Tearing off his blouse, he rolled it up
into a pillow, then with loving care
laid the once powerful frame of the
priest gently down upon the bare
earth.
Before the field surgeon reached
them the priests trembling lips had
pronounced family the familiar words
''Miserere mel, Deus" the careworn
hand was raised in benediction, and,
with smile of Heavenly joy and
peace, the Soldier of the Cross went
forth to meet his Master.
Stabbed TO the heart, as clean cut
as l have ever seem" remarked the
doctor, briefly. Wonderful men, these
Jesuits; clean grit all through"
The newspapers devoted a scant
paragraph or two to the sad days work
and that was the end of it.
But the cable bore these two mes
sages upon its swift current: "Killed
in Indian fight, your son, Ernest Won
Houptman. Letter follows"
1t was addressed to an eminent mem
Der of the Austrian court, statesman
of worldwide fame.
The other message, which bore the
address of q French marquise, was not
quite so curt.
A mother and marquise must not be
told too abruptly. 1t read: Your son,
Jesuit priest, mortally wounded and
died on the field of duty. Accept sym
pathy. Details follow Both were
signed, Baker, Major U. S. Army"
1T cost a lot" reflected the major,
but. then, it isn't every day 1 am
cabling the death of an Austrian count
and French marquis
LADIES