Ottumwa semi-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1899-1903, 1901-10-03

ger of your life. Keep quiet, and you'll
come out all right"
II must go on at once, doctor"
"You'll go part way as q corpse If
you do"
The old lady declared that I should
not stir out Of the house till the doctor
gave the word, the old gentleman babe
me welcome as long as needed to stay,
the young lady who had brought me
there said nothing, while the boy look
ed as if to lose subject so fruitful of
interest would break his heart.
"I'll send young associate of mine,"
said the doctor. eff the wound opens,
you must have attention at once"
Thank you, doctor. There seems to
be great deal Of commotion about
very small matter. l don't care to put
SO many people to so much trouble"
No one paid any attention to my pro-
test, all busying themselves to make
me comfortable. Pillows were laid be-
meath my head, silk quilt was thrown
over me, and stand with silver bell
on it was placed beside me that might
ring for anything 1 wanted. All being
satisfactorily arranged, the doctor or
dered everybody out of the room and
then departed himself.
What singular transition! Half an
hour before l had left Huntsville
beautiful Huntsville, nesting among
the hills that slope away from the
Cumberland plateau-and was working
my way northward toward Fayette-
vile, Tenn. The plants in the yards
beside the road were putting forth
their buds, the leaves on the trees were
opening, insects were awakening, birds
singing-all revived by the rays of the
yernal sun.
l permitted my horse to drop into a
walk. a pleasant languor stole over
me, replacing bitter mental turbu-
lence which had been ever present with
me for months. Perhaps it was the
genial warmth, the balmy air; perhaps
an absence Of war scenes with which
l had long been familiar; perhaps both.
AT any rate. watched the sun glisten
on the dewdrops. felt its rays warm my
shoulders, and listened to the singing
Of the birds with consciousness that,
after all, sometimes it is pleasant to
live.
Then came an unaccountable sinking.
1t may have been something in the
restfulness, the security I had felt, in
congruous with pestilent war; just as
amid the luxurious foliage of the trop-
les one feels that behind every leaf and
flower turks invisible fever Suddenly
the shots rang out; then came my reply
to the girl standing beside me looking
at the dead bushwhacker; then my
entry into the house, and now I was
lying on a comfortable lounge an OBJ
ject Of tender solicitude on the part of
people who, from being strangers, had
suddenly become very dear friends.
But suppose they knew me-that I
was q renegade, 4 traitor to the south.
There. was no name harsh enough
among Confederates for those of their
own people who were not with them,
and all who were not with them were
against them, and doubtless these new
found friends were all Confederate
sympathizers. The bushwhacker could
tell no tales. was thankful for that,
for he had known me well. The
thought Of him took me back to that
night Of horrors I was again at the
head of those Tennessee Unionists en-
deavoring to lead them to haven Of
safety. We were near the Cumberland
gap. One more day and we should be
at Camp Dick Robinson, where we
should find Federal troops. Then the
attack. By the flashing of guns
could see their faces, and here and
there recognize neighbor-men beside
whom had lived for years, and whom
civil war had converted into fiends.
One by one I saw my friends shot
down. There was one dearer to me
than all besides. Through the dark
ness, guided by the flashes and the
sound of my voice, she darted to me,
and found refuge in my arms.
Then that sudden dash Of Confeder-
ate cavalry. I felt the figure held
culver and slip through my arms. I
moaned and kissed the white lips; then,
like lightning, the wild beast jumped
Hllulu u6s LOOhSo Wy W Scc w III Qiiu
done this last, this browning atrocity.
A Confederate officer sat on his horse
staring at me, In his hand smoking
pistol. A sudden collapse, and I knew
that I was hit. This is all remem-
bered of the massacre.
How gloated in my revenge! The
homes of men who had committed
those murders were burning, and had
applied the torch. Their barns. grain
everything they possessed-passed away
In black spark spangled clouds. which
shot upward as If to carry vengeance
to the very heavens. These men had
made my life a waste; had made
theirs hell.
There was one I had not yet pun
ished, one whose punishment louged
for more than all the rest--the Confed-
crate officer with the smoking pistol.
I sought for him without success. Then
I tried to forget him. but whenever I
remembered thht beloved figure fee.
fng to ps for protection. thit tenor,
that sinking away before the blight OF
death. E vonsd start again On my long
haint Y soined the army thinking Tint