The Hocking sentinel. [volume] (Logan, Ohio) 1871-1906, 1901-05-30

of Crooksie that touched the pretty lady
for she leaned suddenly toward the boy:
and smiled.
"Wouldn't you like tc ride:" she asked
Crooksie's heart gave great bound
and then stood still. He had never rid
den in all his life; but now something
was choking him. He shook his head
and the lady drove up the hill alone.
The morning wore on and noon came
| Children grew tired and cried, with theil
| little faces hidden in their mothers
skirts, or went to sleep on the green turf
Women sat singly or in groups on the
copings and ate sandwiches and boiled
eggs Thus does life assert itself in the
presence of death.
At last the memorial address was over
and the heroes below the Stars ana
Stripes slept under quilt of flowers
| The volley had been fired, and the can
mons 1eep-mouthed cry went echoing
through the hills.
Then there was terrified shrek
Runaway. Runaway" somebody call
/ ed. Look out for the runaway and q
big black horse came plunging down the
| narrow drive. The phaeton held the pref.
ty lady. People screamed and scattered
like frightened sheep. There was not a
| man among them who dared to stop the
beast.
Near the foot of the hill tiny figure
stood, with one little crutch outstretched.
''Crooksie! Yer burned fool"' scream
ed jake Bollinas. "Crooksie-'
Get the kid out of the way,' yelled
a man. Hes no goodr and the women
shut their eyes.
There was crash. The horse had
struck something and stood still; po-
liceman caught him by the bride.
Ii was hours before Crooksie showed
signs of returning to life. Then there
was a rushing sound in his ears, like the
wind in the pines; he was drifting some
where, and patches of red and yellow
light danced before his eyes.
Hes coming round at last" said the
doctor.
Then Crooksie felt soft, cool hand on
his, and looked up, straight into the face
of the pretty lady.
The night lamp shed a tender glow
through the dainty room and rested low
ingly on the little bed.
Crooksie had never seen such room
before. He tried to sit up. but fell back
with cry of pain and lay quite still.
My precious little boy" said the pref
ty lady. My dear, brave little hero"
Crooksie's eyes had question in them
and the doctor raised him on the pillow.
Yer didn't mean me-" he said.
"'Cause q" I'm crooked, yer know, and
there amt any crooked ones, is there?"
Crooked what. dear?' asked the lady.
"Herors," he said with an effort. rs
there any with bad backs, an legs that
are sort er wabbly:"
The big doctor laid him suddenly
down and walked away, but the pretty
lady knelt beside the little bed and took
Crooksies hands in both of hers. Hot
tears were binding her. but TO woman
it falls-this duty of taking the pilgrims
half way to heaven.
Dear little man." she said. there are
all sorts Of heroes; big ones and little
ones, white ones and black ones; yes,
dear-and crooked ones, too"
An do they put crooked ones out
where the grass an the birds is:" was
the eager question.
Yes
And will they give 'em Howers-vi'ets
an perrywinkles an pinks:"
The little voice was growing very weak.
Yes, DEAR" said the lady, land the
backs are all good in the land where the
heroes go, and the legs will all grow
strong
\ happy smile glowed for a moment
on the little face, and Crooksie gave a
long, contented sigh. If Jakie-could
only-know," he said.
Next morning an early sunbeam peep
ed aslant through the curtain. 1t gilded
pair Of tiny idle crutches and kissed a
little sleeper. Some one had placed
sprig Of mountain laurel in the childish
hands, for the world had lost another
hero.-Indianapolis Press.