The Central Nevadan. [volume] (Battle Mountain, Nev.) 1885-1907, 1903-06-04

senseIess thus. But he was welded
10 his past: that toy In his breast,
whatever 1t might be, whatever tale
might cling to 1t, was sweeter to him
than her lfps would ever be. Bah
There were better men than he. Why
had she not let him lie and die as he
might under the pile of dead?
you deserve to be ~shot-youT said
Cigarette, fiercely abusing herself as
she put his head off her lap, and rose
abruptly and shouted to a Tringlo who
was at some distance searching for
the wounded. Here Is a chasseur
with some breath In him." she said,
CURLY, as the man with his mule cart
and its sad burden Of half dead. moan
ing. writhing frames drew ear at her
summons. Put him In. Soldiers cost
too much training to waste them on
jackals and kites, IL n can help 1t.
Lift him up, Quick!'
HE Is badly hurt" said the Tringlo.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh. no, l have had worse scratches
myself. The horse fell on him; that
was the mischief. Most of them here
have swallowed the leaden pill once
and for all. | never saw a prettier
thing-every lascar has killed his own
little knot of Arbicos. Look how nice
and neat they look"
She was not going to have him i'm
aginc she cared for that chasseur whom
he lifted up on his little wagon with SO
kindly a care-not she, Cigarette was
as proud In her way as was v the
Princess Venetia Corona.
Nevertheless she kept pace with the
mules. carrying little Flick-Flack. and
passed scores Of dead Arabs. whose sill
yer ornaments and silk broideries.
commonly after such a fantasia. re-
plenished the k~napsack and adorned In
profusion the uniform Of the young
flibusfer. being CLEANED by her right
and left as her lawful harvest after the
fray.
Leave him there. l will have a look
at him. she said at the first empty
tent they reached. Cigarette. left alone
with the wounded man. lying insensl-
Bile still on a heap of forage. ceased her
song and grew very quiet. She had q
certain surgical skill. and she dressed
his wounds with the cold, clear water
and washed away the dust and the
blood that covered his breast.
HE Is too good a soldier to die. One
must do 1t for France" she said to her
self In a kind of self apology. And as
she did IL and bound the lance cash
close and bathed his breast. his fore
head. his hair. his beard. free from the
sand and the powder and the gore q
thousand changes swept over her mo-
bile face. 1t was one moment soft and
flushed and tender as passion: it was
the next jealous, fiery. scornful. pale
and full of impatient self disdain.
He was nothing to her. He was an
a%ristocrat. and she was a child OF the
people. She had been besieged by
dukes and had nouted princes. She
had borne herself in such gay liberty.
such yivacious freedom. such proud
and careless sovereignty bah. what
was it to her whether this man lived
or died? If she saved him. he would
give her a low bow as he thanked her.
thinking all the while of miladi. And
yet there she staid and watched him.
She took some food. for she had been
fasting all day. Then she dropped
down before the fire she had lighted
and In one of those soft, curled. kitten
like attitudes that were characteristic
of her kept her vigil over him.
She was bruised. stiff. tired. longing
like a tired child TO fall asleep. Her
eyes felt hot as fame. her rounded.
supple limbs were aching. her throat
was sore with long thirst and the sand
that she seemed to have swallowed till
no draft of water or wine would take
the scorched. dry pain out of 1t. But.
as she had given up her fete day In the
hospital. so she sat now-as patient in
the self sacrifice as she was impatient
when the viyacious agility Of her young
frame was longing for the ~frenzied de-
lights of the dance or the battle. Ev-
cry now and then, four or five times In
an hour. she gave him whom she tend
ed the soup or the wine that she kept
warm for him over the embers. He
took 1t without knowledge. sunk half
in lethargy. half in sleep. but 1t kept
the life glowing In him which. without