The National tribune., 1902-07-24
The Night of the Burning of Columbia TAX
ing Care of Unexpected Guests Setting Up
a Homeless FAMILY,

The children were crying with cold and
| hunger as they were gathered UP. SHORTY
picked up the little tot he had rescued.
who no longer seemed afraid of him, and
wrapped her in an Old cOuntefpanc.
Shielded from the fierce blast, and seeing
no longer the awful flames. she quickly
cried herself to sleep on his shoulder, as
he strobe along toward the boat. 81 took
the baby from the mothers arms. gave
the shawl with which she had wrapped
1 it back TO her to put around her ow'i
shoulders over her thin, worn dress. He
unbuttoncd his overcoat, laid the baby
inside. and threw cape and coat over 1t. 1t
became so warm i'll n few minutes that
its wailiGgs ceased Wash Lambert took
off his eyercoat and put 1t on the Oldest
child. Il girl of 10; Tom did the same with
the next. a girl of eight, while boy of
six seemed Sufficiently warmed by being al
lowed to carry Pete's carbine, while that
youth gloated over his silver-mOunted fish
ing rod and reel.
Otterbein Kramer. who had anticipated
their coming. had a great fire hiazmg anu
Il savory supper cooking. The woman
and her children We're put Ill what re-
manned of the wrecked cabin, which
formed shelter from the wind. and re-
ccivcd some heat from the great fire. The
silver which kramers squad had brought
was piled in there with them. Kramer
had not failed to keep his eye out for ra-
tions all this time. He had abruptly III,
tcrfercd with the negroes singing and
shouting to send some able-5odied men to
bring in food from the warehouses which
| had been broken open. One of these was
IL rebel depot for taxes in kind, from which
he gathered a supply of beef and pork,
| turnps, yanis, cabbages rice, etc. He
had cast-iron washkcttle brought from
one of the yards set up on the banks OF
he river and fire built under it. Under
his directions the negresses cooked a great.
steanlng, fragrant mess for the negroes
whom he had at work.
The negroes, men, women and children,
were waiting around the washkettie. each
with a cup, dish, wash-basin, bowl or
whatever other vessel, old or new, he or
she could pick up, in eager anticipation of
dishing=out time The rich, suffusing
olors filed their hungry souls with Ticker
| ish and overwhelming delight. Their
widely opened eyes. showing great circles
OF white around shining pupils of black,
seemed as big as buckeyes. Their broad
smiles of apretizing anticipation displayed
rows of purest ivory, to gleam IN the
bright freight. Entirely forgotten was
| the destruction of the city which had been
the center of their universe. They recked
not that the flames still deyoured homes
and buildings which had seemed as imiios-
ing and awe-inspiring to them rs those of
Jerusalem to the Jews, or of Rome to the
Romans Tg,cy were absolutely indiffer-
ent to the fact that hundreds of families
who had the day before lowered above
| them as gods were now more miserable
than themselves. for they had lost all that
| they held necessary to make life endura-
bic. while the; negroes were as well of
under the first shed as they ever were IN
their lives They had room in their minds
| for but one thought: They were exceed
ingly hungry, andrabout to be fed. Moth
ing else-not even where they were to
/ Sleep and where get their breakfast-was
of the slightest consequence.
Otterben Krainer appointed the I'm
cle'' to maintain order among them and
dish out the food when it was cooked.
while he attepded 10 the meal for the boys
and their guests
| With troubled face Otterbein Kramer
called 81 aside. 5l go
Il know just what to cook for men,
he said. r
Indeed you do. You're the best cook
| in the whole army"
Thank you very much. But it's very
different with women and children. |
never cooked anywhere but in the field.
I've learned all know there. | never
had anything to do with Il family hotel
or boarling-house. | suppose, though.
| the woman and her children can manage
| to rub along on what I've cooked for
| you"
well. should say so. It's probably
better than they've ever had in their
lives. Certainly better than they've had
for a long time
"But how about the little, very little
Onesy They can't stand our strong food
| our coffee, broied meat and potatoes.
| They ought to have bread and butter and
milk"
Great Scott, that's So" exclaimed 81.
aghast at the thought. Poor little things.
! We must get 'em some milk somewhere
-.
Why, child can't live without milk. Say,
send out some of those niggers to hunt
| for o cow"
Great Jehosephat, you couldn't pull
one of them away from that kettle with
a yoke of Steers" snorted Shorty.
''And if you got 'em away they couldn't
see cow. if she was bigger'n an ele-
phant,' added Wash Lambert. They've
got eyes and noses only for grub now. A
hungry nigger's blinder'n hundred-year-
old MOLE
Pete and Sandy" called 81 to the boys.
Il know you're awful hungry he con
| tinued. as the boys came running up, but
| think how hungry that baby must be, and
| the next one to 1.-THE one that Shorty
saved-for drink of milk. They're just
starving. They may die before morning
for want of milk"
what, the pretty little baby that you
carried!' exclaimed Sandy. forgetful of
his own hunger in the appalling prospect:
| "And that sweet little girl that Corpl
Elliott carried?' added Pete.
Even So" said 81, deeply moved.
''Now, the fire hain't reached the out
skirts of the town anywhere. You boys
know the habits of poor people with their
cows, and you can certainly find one some
where over there, in the out-lots, where
the fire hain't gone. Skip out. and see if
you can't find a COW. Wen wait sapper
until you get back. I'm as hungry as n
wolf myself, but l can't eat anything be-
fore those furnishing young ones"
Nor me, nor Pete" said Sandy, reso-
lutely "COme on, Pete Wen find a
moOley somewhere, unless this blasted
country has fewer cows than it has Union
men"
The boys rushed off into the twilight,
shaping their course toward the eastern
suburbs of the little city, which the fire
Il had not reached, as the wind was blowing
it in the opposite direction.
| They found most of the people Of the
suburbs had left their houses, to watch
the fire, and occasionally come back with
loads of salvage. The homes and children
were left in .charge of the feeble old
grandparents, or of tall, mOtherly slips of
girls, too domestic to be carried away even
by conflagration which had wrecked
their world. l,r
Like the poor all over the South, these
people were very pOOr-poOrer than the
boys imagined that people could be in
such a town. In the Indiana villages
with which they were acquainted even the