Chicago eagle. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1889-19??, 1901-05-25


black bottle for those who were left be.
hind. But this little world OF grass and
sunshine where the birds sang and the
flowers bloomed was different.
The exercises had already begun. and
the eager. surging throng pushed and
crowded on its way to the soldiers plot.
Once the boys were pressed almost under
the feet Of big black horse.
The lady who was driving drew the
rein sharply and stopped. The boys star
ed hard at her.
"Ain't she a pretty one. though"
whispered Crooksie, and Jake nodded.
"Sure!" he said.
There was something In the little bent
figure, and the pinched, pain-scarred face
OF Crooksie that touched the pretty lady,
for she leaned suddenly toward the boys
and smiled.
Wouldn't you like to ride?" she asked.
Crooksie's heart gave great bound,
and then stood still. lie 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 aud cried, with their
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 aud 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 and
Stripes slept under a quilt OF flowers.
The vollcy had been fred, and the can
mons dccp.mouthcd cry went cchoins
through the hills.
Then there was a terrified shrek.
Runaway! Runaway" somebody call.
| ed. Look out for the runaway!' and a
big black horse came plunging down the
narrow drive. The phacton held the pref
| ~ 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 a tiny figure
stood. with one little crutch outstretched.
| "Cro0ksic! Yer burned fool" scream
! cd Jake Bollinas. "Crooksie--"
| Get the kid out OF the way" yelled
a man. Hes no good" and the women
shut their eyes.
There was crash. The horse had
struck something and stood still; a 20.
liceman caught him by the bride.
1t was hours before Crooksic 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.
.s.,uc's coming round at last" said the
! doctor. 'Sf,-s~ $3.50 ,.,--
Then Crooksie felt n soft, cool hand on
,,.,Is Int, hnH "a.
Of the pretty lady.
The night lamp shed tender glow
through the dainty room and rested Low
ingly on the little bed.
Cy2oksls had neyer seen such room
before. He tried to sit up, but fell bach
with u cry Of pain and lay quite still.
ty lady. my dear, brave little here"
Crooksie's eyes had A question IN then
and the doctor raised him on the pillow
"Yer didn't mean meY he said
"Cause I'm crooked, yer know, ant
there amt any crooked ones, Is thereY'
Crooked what, dear?" asked the lady
"Herors." he said with an effort. I'll
there any with bad backs, an legs tina
are sort or wabbly"
The big doctor laid him sudden!
down ana Walkeu away, Dut tHe pTctt.
lady knelt beside the little bed and tool
CrOoksie's hands in both Of hers. Ho
tears were binding her, but to womal
it falls--this duty OF taking the pilgrim
half way TO heaven.
Dear little man." she said, there ar
all sorts Of heroes; big ones and littl
ones, white ones and black ones; yes
dear-and crooked ones, too"
AN do they put crooked ones on
where the grass an the birds isy' wa
the eager question.
yes"
"And will they give 'em fowers-vrlet
an perrywinkles an pinksI'
The little voice was growing very weak
"Yes, DEAR said the lady, 'and tn
r backs are all good in the land where III
; heroes go, and the legs will all gro'
G strong"
4 happy smile glowed for q momen
. on the little face, and CroOksie gave
long, contented sigh. If Jakie-coul
e only-know," he said,
I Next morning an early sunbeam peel
4 cd aslant through the curtain. II glide
, q pair Of tiny idle crutches and kissed
] little sleeper. Some one had placed
sprlg OF mountain laurel in the childis
e hands, for the world had lost anothe
t hero.-Indianapolis Press.