The Hope pioneer. [volume] (Hope, N.D.) 1882-1964, 1900-03-15

Ia Sig had ever been that no one Ct
its membership had ever turned. a deaf
ear to q fellow in need of aid. Who OF
it's originators ever dreamed of such a
thing as its drifting into and becoming
i factor in the affairs, of the regular
army?
No wonder Gray stood for a moment,
the paper still in his hands, i%rresolute,
eEeMdisturbed. Not to answer the APP
peal meant to run counter to all the ten
cts of his fraternity, To answer might
mean arrest and court-martial for de-
liberate disobedience of orders. Canker
has no more mercy than an Indian. 1t
was barely 4s hours since he had been
publicly warned by an experienced old
captain that he would find no guard
ian angel" in Squeers. It would Sc
mar his prospects to start now
with Squeers down on him." and as
that ~lynx-eyed commander was ever on
watch for attractions of orders, Billy
we'll knew that he could not hope to see
and talk with the prisoner and Canker
not hear of it. 10 ask permission of
Canker would only make matters worse
he was sure to refuse and then re-
emphasize his orders and redouble his
vigilance. To ask the consent of the
officer of the day or the connivance of
the officer of the guard was to invite
them to court arrest and trial on their
own account. He couldn't do that even
to oblige a brother Delt. If only Ned
Craven were officer of the guard some
thing might be done-he was a college
man, too, and though not a "Delt," but
rather of a rival set, he would under
stand" and possibly help. Guard mount
held toward dusk, and that was
four hours away, at least. The prison
er's note and tone were urgent. An idea
occurred to Billy: What if he could
get Gordon to let him $50 on" this
very evening? 1t wasn't his tour. He
had marched off" only two days be-
fore, as he wellremembered, for Canker
chad roughed" him up and down about
that little error in copying the list of
prisoners from the report of the pre-
vious day. Moreover, he had counted
on going to town right after retreat"
dining at the Palace, IN extravaganza
not to be thought of at other times,
so as to be on hand when the Primes
and Amy Lawrence came down to din
ner. He had planned it all-even to the
amount of surprise he was to exhibit
when he should discover about when
he had finished his own dinner. that
they were just beginning theirs, and
the extent and degree of pleasurable
emotion he might venture on showing
as he fastened over to greet them,
and accepted their offer to be seated
with them, even if he had been SO IN
kind as to dine beforehand, instead of
with them. He had set his heart on
having a chat with Miss Lawrence as
part recompense for all he had lost
that morning, and all this he was think
of while still fumbling over that dis
turbing note. Time was getting short,
too; there was no telling how much
longer they might stay. Mr.. Prime
had brought his only daughter all that
long journey Gro the continent on
the assurance that the boy he loved,
with whom he had quarreled, and
whom, in his anger, he had sorely re-
buked, had enlisted there in San Fran
cisco and was serving in a regiment at
the great camp west of the city. He
had come full of hope and confidence;
he had found the young soldier de-
scribed, and, in his bitter disappoint-
ment, he declared there was no re.
semblance to justify the report sent him
by the boys w uncle, who vowed he
had met him with comrades on the
main street of the city, that the recog.
milton was mutual, for the boy had dart.
ed around the first corner and escaped.
His companions were scattered by the
time Mr.. Lawrence turned to the spot
after a brief, fruitless search, but pri.
vate detectives had taken it up and So
Gated" young Prime and t~elegraphed
the father in the distant east.
Now, Mr.. Lawrence was AVA on
business of his own. Written assur-
ances that he couldn't be mistaken lost
weight, and Mr.. Prime, disheartened,
was merely waiting the report of an
agent who thought he had traced the
boy to Tampa. In "a hours he might
spirit his daughter away on another
chase, and then there would be no fur
ther warrant for Miss Lawrence's re-
naming in the city. She would return
to her lovely home in one of the loveliest
of California valleys, miles away from
the raw fogs and chills Of the Golden
Gate, and would be no more seen among
the camps. That, said Billy Gray to
himself, would take every bit of sun
shine from his life.
All this detail, or much of it. he had
learned from the fair lips of Miss Law
renee herself, for Mr.. Prime and his
daughter seemed to shrink from speak-
ing of the matter. From the first Miss
Amy had had to take the young gentle
man under her personal wing, as it
In her desire to aid her uncle
and cousins in every way, and know
ing them to be strangers to the entire
camp, she had eagerly sent for bin as
the first familiar or friendly object she
saw. Then when he came and was pre-
sented, and proved to possess little in
terest to the careworn man and his
anxious and devoted child, it devolved
upon Miss Lawrence to make much of
Billy in proportion as they made little
of him, and for three days or so the
blithe young fellow seemed fairly to
walk on air. Moreover, she had taken
him into family condolences in telling
him of the missing son and brother,
for both her uncle and cousin, she said,
were, SO sensitive about it they could
not talk to anyone except when actual
ly necessary. They had leaned, as it
were, on the general and on Col. Arm
strong for a day, and then seemed to
draw away from both. They even
seemed to take it much amiss that her