The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1902-12-06

handing the cavalry, as the English raj
lied and came forward again. Look, we
give way everywhere! sauve que peut,
mes braves"'
IT don't lose this man, though, = said.
the soldier stubbornly '"Will you run,
or be dragged? 2" he called to Grafton,
Not waiting for reply, he wheeled his
horse, and, keeping tight hold of Grafton,
galloped off with the rest.
1t was not q dignitied position, but there
was nothing for him to do but to strive
to keep his feet as best he might. II he
fell he would be trampled to death by the
horses; if he did not run he would prob
ably be dragged until he choked. He was
a wise as well as a brave man, SO he
struggled desperately on.
. His arm had been badly wounded by
the. blow which had disabled it, and as his
captor reached the st. Louis gate of the
city a bullet struck him In the back. His
strength finally gave way at that, and he
tainted. He was a small man, and the
big. trooper lifted him to the front Of the
saddle by some unexplained impulse, laid
him across the horse. and held him there
as he forced his way into the painting, ter
rified: mass of retreating soldiery
Ahead Of them was an officer on a big
black horse. He was deadly pale, and
blood was trickling over the white
lace of his shirt and staining his
open waistcoat. He would have fallen
from his horse had not two soldiers on
either side supported him. He sat with
lis hands on the pommel of the saddle,
leaning forward His face wore a stricE-
en- look. There were tears triclsling down
his cheeks-not on account Of his wounds,
however, but from deper hurt. It was
MOntcalm. -s....-7. ~. s.
The gate was open now. and the fugi-
tives were pouring through. Inside the
walls crowd of women, children and old
men were congregated-: in the Rue st.
Louis. There was weeping and wailing
and wringing Of hands as the, wounded,
battered, shattered, terrified mass of fugi-
tives swept through the gate. The dead
ly rattle Of srnall arms, which since early
morning had kept up WITHOUT the walls,
had nearly died away. The bugles of
England We're calling halt, the red coats
We're assembling on their colcrs. They
were too weak to assault the ramparts yet
and therefore allowed the shattered
French army to enter the city. Presently
the marquis, still on his horse, was drawn
within the gate by the eddying crowd.
"Oh, mon Dieu! mon Dieu! LIE Marquis
est tue!'' cried woman. "..
Her words wer taken up by the crowd,
who loved the great ond gentle soldier
with a passionate devotion which they
withheld from the thieving scoundrels
who made UP the civil government: Even
AS he heard cries Of the multitude he
lifted his head and said: =" : y -
"Ce nest rjen. cs nest rien: ne vous
affligez pas pour moi, mes BONES amies.' -
Git Is nothing, it is nothing; do not be
troubled for me, my good friends.) -.
Meanwhile the dragoon, with Grafton
lying limp across his saddle, rode a few
rods down the street until he escaped from
the thick of the crowd. Then he turned
his attention to his prisoner. The Eng
lishman was lying pale and apparently
lifeiess before him. r.
Nom de chten!' cried the Frenchman.
''TIave been carrying dead man all this
time?" ~: - ..... -
With an expression Of disgust he lifted
him from his saddle and let him slide to
the ground, He was riding near the
pavement at the time and the street was
narrow. The soldier had not thrown him
roughly, and Philip slipped gently down
upon the sidewalk, his head falling rather
heavily against the. open. doorstep. "A
woman standing gazing from the door
screamed and shrank back. The shock
and the pain of the wounds caused him to
of a face as beautiful as an angels bend
ing over him. :; He heard a sweet, startled
open his eyes. He was dimly conscious
voice. filed with music, murmuring In ex-
quisite French: II
Mon Dieu! He is living then!" -
He knew no more. ~ II