Herald and news. [volume] (West Randolph, Vt.) 1878-1943, 1903-05-14

Ehile his employers were prophesying
woe and thirst for 1.-THE morning aft
er." ''You gentlemen has been mighty
good 10 me" said the boy, land when
I takes your kilograms over this
afternoon I'll buy the stuff tonight
and leave Slowville before daybreak
and by the time you's awake I'll have
your Ticker"
Don't you do it, Bob said Billy
Watson. Jack Blue Cloud and a half
hundred Of his fellow devils are raid
ling pretty near every morning as
you know across the trail that you
come by, and if you start before sun
rise you1l run plump into them"
Don't you be scared" answered
Bob. I'm get by 'em all right l kin
teach Jack Blue Cloud a thing or
two"
1t was a wet night in the shack. The
last drop was gone, and the GORE
spondents were something more than
weary when they crawled into. their
blankets along about two o'clock.
At six o'clock that morning, an hour
before sunrise - il was now mid
winter ~ Bob, the courier, put three
bottles Of liquor into his saddle
bags, and in the awful cold headed his
pony toward Spruce Ridge. His mount
was game, and the cold acted as a spur.
Bob covered ten miles by the time the
SUMS yellow face was showing over the
edge Of the prairie. mo reds this
morning" thought Bob. i've passed
the worst of it," The thought was
scarcely formed before around a sand
ridge, 200 yards to sleft, came body
Of mounted Indians. There were about
ten bucks in the bunch. They saw Bob
asquick as he saw them. The courier's
trail lay straight ahead. The Indians
turned their ponies heads and took
the hypothenuse Of a right angled tri-
angle, and endeavored TO head the boy
of If they had turned a volley from
their rifles loose al him they probably
could have brought him down, but they
wanted the boy alive.
The reds turned into the trail about
100 yards 20 the rear Of the flying pony
and its courier rider. Then II was a
straightaway race. Bob had the bet
ter mount, but the pony was a little
tagged with its ten-mile clip during the
first hour Of that mornings ride. The
Indians had just broken their nights /
camp, and their mounts were fresh. |
On, on and on they went. For three |
miles Bob gained a little, expecting |
every moment to hear the ping of the
bulltes about his ears. No shots came. |
Four miles more. 1t was an awful /
ride, and his pony fairly staggered. I
lhe reds were within so yards Of him /
Pursuer and pursued were on the crest
If ridge one mile from the goal. At
hat instant six dismounted troopers
,ame from behind some scrub spruces.
The Indians turned loose one wild vol
ey at the fleeing boy, and then
purred to the rear. They knew the
soldiers could not follow.
Bob's hand went to his side, where
IN awful pain stung him. On he went
md fell from his pony at the door Of
he correspondents shack. They had
heard the firing and were outside.
Billy Watson picked the fallen boy
Up in his arms. what is it, Bob?
speak, boy"
The courier opened his eyes. II
brought your stuff to you, boss" he
aid, and then his head fell back. The
ourier boy would carry no more mes
ages.
There We're three solemn-faced men
landing at the door of the shack. "A
oy's life for bottle of whisky" said
ne of them. Then he went to the |
ony, and from the saddle bags took
he three bottles and broke them on
he frozen ground. "No more of this
tutf for me-" he said, forever" And
is comrades said "Amen."-Chicago
,eeord-Herald.