The true northerner., 1900-06-06

ness by his rather. She admitted that
she had adOred soldiers and that she
had caused him To enter the army for
her sake. But she had omitted TO state
that the soldiers she adored were sol
diers who possessed the queens COM
mission and who wore stars instead of
a worsted stripe.
If poor White Feather was a physical
coward. he was a moral hero There is
no chance of display of feeling In
barrack room; so. like the Spartan boy
of old he hugged his trouble to him,
slipping the cheap little engagement
ring with which he had sealed his
! troth into his pocket without sign be-
yond the twitching of his white lips.
Then he lit his pipe with the letter, not
out OF contempt, but because there Is
little privacy Saccorded In the corre-
spondence that comes TO the barrack
room. and a private soldier is not pro-
yided with desk wherein to keep his
| faded flowers and other sentimental to-
kens of the past.
The blow was a very heavy one, for
White Feather was without the world
ly knowledge that should have told
him long since that he had fixed his af-
| fections upon a vulgar, selfish and
brainless flirt, and he still believed in
her.
For her sake he had learned to over
come his physical cowardice. He had
dreamed of n possible commission in
the dim future and had rejoiced in the
recently acquired promotion as n step
! toward her.
For her sake, too, he received the
news cheerfully when the word passed
/ through the barracks that the regiment
was ordered to South Africa TO meet
| the Beers. He knew that he was by
nature a coward, but for the memory
| of her he swore an oath TO himself TO
do his duty without sparing himself in
the coming fight.
"Look ERE, old chap. we amt going
to call you White Feather no morew
said Trumpeter Pipes as they lay to-
! gether behind the shelter of a large
! bowlder, against the face Of which the
Boer bullets were pattering like a
heavy rain.
In full sight of the whole army their
squadron had crossed the Boer front
amid a hail of bullets which had
brought 20 men to earth.
White Feathers horse had been shot
under him, and, at the risk of his life,
he had carried the wounded trumpeter
into the shelter of the powders. He
was unhurt, but trembled in every
| limb from fear and great exertion.
From between two powders he peep
ed out and saw, amid the bodies OF men
and horses that Uttered the plain,
wounded man crawling on his hands
and knees amid a spatter of bullets
that were kicking puffs of dust from
the dry earth all around him.
II was his captain.
White Feather watched him for a
moment; then he saw him stop and lie
I down on his side despairingly. He
could crawl no more.
81 will, for her saker' he murmured
! between his clinched teeth, and, rising
| from the shelter Of the rock. he faced
the hail of death that pattered to the
! earth around him.
! AS he walked into the open n faint
/ cheer reached his ears from the Brit
/ ish troops half mile behind him. The
Royal artillery backed him with n
shrieking fight OF shrapnel, which
whistled Tor a moment overhead. then
burst over the Boer lines a quarter of
a mile away in a shower Of bullets that
for moment quelled the storm around
him.
He reached the wounded man. lifted
him on his back and returned step by
step to where Trumpeter Pipes lay hid
! den.
The trumpeter gave him n faint
Bravo as he staggered and fell with
his burden into the kindly shelter of
the rock.
/ That was White Feathers reward.
On a distant hill the British COM
mander shut his fieldglasses with a
snap.
Tell the general 10 keep down the
/ fire on the right there and to get those
/ men in from behind those bowlders,"
/ he said to his aid, land bring me that
mans name. If he is alive, tell him
/ tLdI L saw IL dI anu lldt III SOlnS W
/ recommend him for the cross.
"Never saw finer show of fire dsci-
pline in my life!" added the command
er to himself as his aid galloped off.
! White Feathers eyes glistened as he
received the message and heard the
cheer that swept along the lines as he
was carried In.
Perhaps l shall get that commission
af-er ALL" he said TO himself; then.
she will think more of me!'
Perhaps it was Just as well that he
died five minutes later-this faithful
worshiper Of a goddess Of clay.-Penny
Pictorial Magazine.
An Interrupted Feast.