Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1901-03-17

edcl Time came away iHoAO ohSis
ever. The ditch was dug up 10 the
border of the Miramon section. Wheh
the men and tennis arrived TO so 10
work, the two M%exicans ordered them
off: they doggedly went ahead; lheH
the Mexicans drew out reviewers anu
the work was stopped.
That night the child was awakened
by the sound of voices. The converse
ton caught her attention. 1t was her
uncles talking, and they seemed drunk
with anger.
ITS not the mems fault" said one
with an oath; its the company's ana
the chief, d-n him, represents the COIN
pany." ,s
YES. he's the Teller to strike at. II
a man was killed they'd only nlre an
other. KILN the chief would bring EN-
to their senses"
You're sure the chiefs to be here
tomorrow"
BY heaven, yes! Didn't tell you l
| heard him rally the men? 1hey
won't dare to shoot when 1t comes
/ right to it, the chief said. The men
/ didn't. Then the chiefs eyes Mashed
| and he jumped to his feet. III dig
the ditch myself he said. III be on
the works tomorrow at seven. Ill
! take the first pillow. Who will follow
! me?" Blamed if every man didn't say
/ az" That Teller was made for a gen
eral. But we'll show him that a Mex
lean was made to handle firearms.
The child knew her uncles would do
lust what they said, and she sympa-
thized with them. But, oh, the chief!
How her heart leaped at thought or
him.
They were talking again.
"Ill do the shootin', Cord; I've no
| wife. I'll ride for the hills and escape
among the cowboys on the ColumDia'
then on down to Mexico. If I'm caught
we'll, I'm willing to pay for it"
"By the way, Cord,'' he added, If
| I'm taken. send the kid away to school
somewberes. Remember her mother,
Cord. She was a lady. Give her a
chance to De like her mother
The child lay still some moments
scarcely breathing, then she arose n
| looked out of the window.
She stepped outside; the wind was
/ coming up in low walls through the
ravines. She ran out and called softly
to her pony. Here and there she ran,
but the pony had wandered away.
She gave up the search and struck
out afoot to cross the valley. There
was nothing to guide her in the pitchy
darkness but a faint light that gleam-
ed from the chiefs tent, five long miles
away. On she sped, following the
light. She had watched it for so many
| nights. Sometimes it went out early,
| and sometimes she went to sleep still
watching it. Oh, if it would only wait
for her! Without it she would be lost.
| On she stumbled, over the plowed land,
through sage brush, now almost fall
ing, now running. A large object leap
ed to its feet as she stumbled against
it: it was a great steer. She was in
j the midst of a herd of wild cattle from
the hills. She knew her danger, and,
throwing herself down, crawled eau
tiously through the herd, ever keeping
| her eyes on the distant light.
On, on, she ran; UP the little hill;
splash into the yellow, muddy water
OF the ditch; on through she waded.
The light still beckoned to her.
The chief was working late into the
night when he was startled by his
tent flaps being drawn apart, and the
child half fell inside. He jumped up
and lifted her in his arms. She was
painting frightfully. He took her into
the open air. Wait" she articulated
at last. Little by little the painting
ceased.
Now tell me, child, how you came
here?"
She told him all the conversation she
had overheard.
He looked at her dumbly.
"My child. My brave little Mexi-
can" he said at last. my brave lit
tie grill"
The child slept next morning until
the sun was high: slept until the men
came as usual to work on the ditch;
slept all through the awful encounter
that followed, the exchange of shots,
the curses, the means; slept until her
aunt awakened her and told her that
the chief wal shot and that her uncle
had gone away.
Then she was bundled off to a con-
vent many miles distant and nothing
had ever happened since.
Idly the pen waited in her hand.
It was never known in camp what
possessed the chief to take a midnight
drive that night. When 4 of the
teamsters hurried out to see what was
wanted he was ordered away SO shortly
that no one ventured to ask any ques-
lions.
When the chief put the child down
near her home he put his watch, a
handsomely jeweled thing, in her
hand.
1T was my mothers. Keep it, my
little savior, in remembrance Of this
night" All trembling. she buried it in
her pocket. and, slipping cautiously in
to the house, crept into bed.
well" she said, coming out of the
dream, that has never been written
up. It will make a good story-and
I can end it right. Yes. III cash it."
She looked at her watch-the same
one. 1t was past two o'clock. Then
she went to work and wrote without
stopping for hours; wrote out the ST
fenced heart beats of ten years She
smiled over the ending. Dear child.
l love you." she had him say. "and
for our sake I'll save myself"
Then they gal6Ded away on calico
vus over the hills. crushing the
sage hush as they went over the un-
broken country. Strange how she
could smell that sage buKh yet.
/ r1f rcufdnst and That way aha said