Twice-a-week plain dealer. (Cresco, Howard County, Iowa) 1895-1913, 1900-01-23

w AsShahS lou anu MuuSeT. Lie Dlue-
shirts struggled inch by inch through
the network of bamboo. Still the
storm swept up the roadway, and no
man could hope to face 1t and live. But,
little by little, the low-aimed, steady
volleys, driven in by squad and section
through the canebreak, or by company
and platoon across the westward
swamps, told on the nerve and disci-
pline Of the little brown men in the
bamboo. Their shots flew swift, but
wild and higher. Then daring lad, in
the rough field uniform of subaltern
of infantry, sprang like cat into the
fire-fashing lane, and, revolver in hand
and squad of devoted fellows at his
heels, dashed straight at the wooden
walls ahead. In frantic haste the oc-
cupants blazed shot after shot upon
him and his heroic followers. One after
another three went down; but in an
other instant, the lieutenant leading,
they reached the block house and dart
ed through the open doorway, the last
OF Its garrison fleeing before such I'M
heard-of daring and determination.
And then came the rush of comrades
cheering down the lane, tumbling over
the earthworks and the luckless gang
that, still crouching there, held to their
position, and all the southwark leading
road was ours.
But, over along the next lane, a
parallel track through the timber,
there had been as stern a check; and
the fury of the fire from the trenches
in the thickets forced brave men to
cover and dropped others in their
tracks. "By God, we must have it'll" al
most screamed tall captain, pointing
with his sword to the flashing block
house half hidden in the trees. "Hear
those fellows on the other road? Don't
let them beat us. Come on, lads" and
out he darted into the open, an instant
target for score of Mausers. Out, too,
leaped half a dozen men, one tall,
1.-the, superbly built young athlete,
with a face aflame with resolution and
rage of battle. Out leaped Billy Gray
from the corner of the crossroad, and,
cheering madly, called on others to
follow. Down went the captain, shot
through the knee. Down went the near
most man, the tall youth who was first
to follow. Down went brawny SER
geant, who had stopped to raise his
fallen captain; but on swept score of
others while the bamboos blazed with
the fierce volleying of the Krags. For
ward in scores now, yelling like
Apaches, rushed the regulars; and
somehow, he never just knew how it
happened, Gray found himself mo-
ment later straddling an old field gun
In a whirl Of dust and dirt and smoke
and cheers, was conscious of something
wet and warm streaming down his side,
and of being tenderly lifted from his
perch by brawny, blue-sleeved arms,
given sip from canteen, and then,
half-led, half-supported back to where
the surgeon was already kneeling by
the tall young soldier on whose brow
the last dew was settling, on whose
fine, clear-cut face the shadow of the
death angels wings was already
traced. The poor fellows eyes opened
YEARLY as he slipped the stimulant
pressed upon him by eager, sympathet-
ic hands, and glanced slowly about as
though in search of some familiar face;
and so they fell on those of Billy Gray,
who, forgetful for the moment of his
own hurt, threw himself by the stran-
gers side and seized his clammy hand
A half smile fitted over the pale face
the other hand CROPPED at the breast OF
his blue shirt and slowly drew forth a
| packet, stained and dripping with the
blood that welled slowly from a shot
hole in the broad white breast. "Give to
Gen. Drayton- Promise" he gasped,
and pushed it painfully toward Billy
Gray. Then the brave eyes closed, the
weary head fell back; and Gray, staring
as though in stupefaction into the
| placid face, found himself dropping,
too, growing dizzy and faint and reel
Ing, but still holding on TO his trust.
Don't some of you know bim?''
asked the surgeon. Hes past helping
now, poor lad. Here, you drink this,
Billy" and he placed little silver cup
at Gray's pallid lips.
| He came a-runnin' from over at
Block House 10 with note from d.
vision headquarters just as we went
in," said veteran sergeant, drawing
the back of a powder-stained hand
across his dripping forehead, then re-
specially stepping back as a young of
ficer bent down and glanced at Gray.
"Much hurt, Billy, old man? No?
| Thank God for that! Look at who?
Where? Why, God in Heaven, it's Pat
Latrobe! Oh, Pat! Pat! dear old boy