Clarke courier. [volume] (Berryville, Va.) 1869-1997, 1901-11-13
fighting a splendid iight-at the
edge of a mountain stream.

edge of a mountain stream.
To some men life is a continual
nagging skirmish; to others il is
single decisive engagement won or
lost; TO still others, and these are
legion, life is a long, drowsy sum-
ner camp. The men who deserve
the medals of honor are the hard
and haggard fellows on the skirmish
line who have to fight tc live, who
get their training under fire, who
keep the small of their backs to the
fields they have won and who make
the history for the campers to read.
The second class have mortal forces
superior TO their intirmities. They
surround their natural enemies In
the beginning and slaughter them
once and for all. These men are to
he praised. They are also to be en-
Wed for the admirable balance of
brain and sinew which their fathers
gave them. They are the successful,
the happy, the admired, men. But
the evil instruction within them
was never whole hearted nor unldIl
able.
But you want a hero? Go, pick
one from the lean, painting, worried
fellows who are forever on the Skin
mish line. whose foes are themselves.
These have mighty virtues, but their
weaknesses are mighty too. These
know no peace. Their foes are as
stubborn as the incoming tide, as
virile as poison, as relentless as
granite. \ man indeed is he who
Systematically starves host of ugly
passions.
In the last month big Darby made
many trips up the trail to the Shack
of Marie and her mother, and Juan,
the poor Porto Rican peon, clutched
at the belief with all his simple mind
that the white man was an angel
from heaven, and because it was the
right way, because he had made up
his mind, Trooper Darby had
strength to lead Marie into the right
way. When he journeyed to San
Juan to get his finals cashed, all the
American soldiers in the capital city
were talking about a new war in
China. Big Darby took no drink,
though there was much money in his
pocket. On the way back to Coroxal
he wondered if the war in China
would mean much action.
1t was evening when he walked
up the trail, and bv his side was
the old priest of the district. Silent
ly they walked together upward
upward toward the heights. Marie
was there, Juan was there, and in
the doorway the old mother sat in
the deepening twilight mumbling
old refrains.
The moon beamed down upon the
mountain tops, while the priest ut
tered softly the words of the old,
old story, and the moon played in
the depths of the running rivers and
whitened the great cliifs-and the
soul of one of Uncle Sans cavalry
ilANAA- w AlNl IL d. All ONeI, Dig
Darby paid the priest and placed a
roll in the trembling hands of Juan,
the poor OK driver-a fortune away
up in the mountains Of Porto Rico,
where pennies are dollars.
Then big Darby kissed Marie, the
bride-for the first tine-and held
her fast in his arms an instant, be-
cause she was sobbing little Then
he FASTENED down the trail TO the
tOwn-for the last time-and at the
canteen he bought round of drinks
for the boys and told them that he
would start for the States in a cou-
pie Of days to enlist in one of the
new cavalry regiments which were
being equipped for Chinese service.
-Pittsburg Dispatch.