Williston graphic. (Williston, Williams County, N.D.) 1895-1919, 1903-01-15

in her heart of hearts hardly knew
which was her chosen one, civilian or
soldier.
I'm sorry I'm on guard today, Miss
Curtis" said Billy, for there is a hop
tonight in the mess hall, and | can't
be there. I shall think of you waltz
ing while am walking my dreary
post"
"What number are you, Mr.. Lang?'
| Cucumber four" answered Billy.
cts Just back of the commandments
| tent and runs parallel to the road lead
ing along the bluff to the hotel. go
on post at taps and walk till midnight.
I'll be there just at the time the hop
is over"
Hurry up and turn out first re-
lief" yelled the corporal of the guard,
and Billy Lang said hasty good-by
and dug out at double time for the
gun rack outside the first guard tent.
SITS duty" he sighed to himself, "a
hard duty, but still duty even if it
does take you away from the girl you
love-"
1t was II o'clock at night. Taps had
sounded an hour earlier. Billy Lang
was pacing up and down number four
between the trunks of the great elms,
which, with the sentinels, guarded the
camp. 1t was the blacklist kind of a
night. Up on Gro Nest mountain and
to the northward toward the Catskills
Hudson's crew was playing tenpins.
1t is a long bowling alley which Old
Rips friends use when they begin their
favorite game. The thunder came
nearer and the lightning played over
head. This is time when the senti-
mel, with his steel bayonet pointing
skyward, feels more nervously. appre-
hensive than when in the face of a hui
man enemy. Patter, patter, patter
the rain began to fall on the leaves of
the clms. The sentinels OH number
four knew that in a minute the gates
would open and then the deluge.
There are no rains like those on the
Hudson. There are no drops-a solid
mass of water falls.
The Pickering oil lamp at the south
end of the post sent feeble CLEAN out
into the darkness. Forty yards down
the roadway Billy Lang saw some one
approaching. ''Who comes there?"
rang out the challenge.
''Friends,'' came the answer, in a
mans voice.
A fash of lightning lit up the road
way and Billy Lang saw Frederick
Jackson and Francis Curtis held mo-
tionless by his challange., At that in
slant came the deluge. Umbrellaless
and unprotected in any way stood the
young couple, straining their eyes
toward a place where they knew was
a young fellow with bayonet-tipped
rifle.
Billy Lang knew that he could
strain point and let these twain
pass. Any cadet in the corps would
have done it on recognition as certain
as his. But Billy was stickler for
duty. He knew his orders. HALT,
friends" he said, and then, raising
his voice, he yelled: Corporal of the
guard No. ~
No one has right to cross SEN
tiners post after taps unless he have
the countersign. In times of peace
the corporal is called to recognize
and advance people without the pass
word.
How the rain did come down.
Frances Curtis light ball dress was
rag. She was chilled through ana
she stood holding the arm of her
escort and shivering from her light
slippers to the bedraggled rose that
crowned her hair. Frederick jack
son was in as bad plight, though
he didn't allow himself to SILVER.
ITS my duty" said Billy Lang to
himself, land Frances is a stickleI'
for duty; she'll like me all the better
for it,"
The corporal came at last. He al
lowed the shivering couple to pass
on to the hotel. He saw the plight
they were in, and if he hadn't been IL
yearling corporal and Billy Lang
frst-class man, he would have told
No. that he was an ass for not
using little common sense and al
lowing the storm-stricken pair to
pass.
Frederick jackson left for New
York the next morning. When he
was relieved from guard Billy Lang
called at the hotel. Miss Curtis
could not be seen that day. She was
slightly indisposed. The next after
noon Billy Lang received note. 1t
was in Frances Curtis handwriting.
It read like this: "A telegram from
New York tells mother that Mr.. Jack.
son is dangerously i'll with pneu.
monia as a result of exposure in the
storm. He has no relatives nearer
than England. 1 am a great stickler
for duty, and so mother and 1 are
just leaving for New York to nurse
Mr.. Jackson. You will doubtless an.
prove my course, for you are one Of
duty's own disciples"
Frances Curtis did not return tn
West Point that summer. 1t was late
in the tall when the postman one day
handed Billy Lang an envelope post.
marked New York II con+o;na1 ,yo1