Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1906-07-11


His face worked as he spoke these
words. And small wonder. At the
hill station OF which he spoke were
his wife, his younger daughter, q
handful of friends; and they were at
the mercy, II not now in the hands
Of q hostile tribe, who, in comparl-
son with the slender garrison, were
as the sands of the sea for multitude.
"And we are here!" she cried des-
perately. But Ahmend sometimes
lies. / don't trust him. IL we had
had trusty messenger Dalton's com
pany would have got to Ragoote in
time.
"a trusty messenger" he retorted
CURLY. THAT Is the curse Of this
cursed country. Outside OF our own
people, there are none.'
She was silent moment, and a
faint flicker OF color rose in her
cheek.
Papa, we have forgotten William
Briggs"
Then did the Colonel laugh in
sheer disdain. slg
"Did we forget him, what's the
odds? How could little civilian,
good chap though he is. work a mir
acle?"
He has been gone three weeks"
she said.
"And dead two OF them. could
swear" he retorted. mo, no, Una,
there is nothing left but the mercy
of God"
He went back to his chair and his
solitary; desperate musing, which was
interrupted once more by the appari-
ton of another horseman in the de-
file. He stood UP and raised his
glasses to his eyes, and his face be-
gan to work. He did not wait the ar
rival, but took the compound in a
series of long steps, and went swiftly
forward. A haggard man on foam
covered and weary horse drew rein
close to him, and bent from the sad
die, after he had saluted.
"Alrs well at Ragoote, SIR"
The Colonel started.
Briggs, you must have gone mad!
The things impossible!"
No, Sir Frank. got to Del Pindi
in time, and then rode on, because
it was deserted, to Washmak. I
caught up with Dalton in time, nine
miles out, and he arrived at RAJ
goote five hours ahead of the enemy
did not wait to hear the result,
{ but l know by the outpost signs az
rode back that they had been beat
en-, and that probably the trouble Is
wholly over for the present"
The man spoke modestly, and his
tired voice had certain melodious
sound. Also his face, though COW
cred with the dust OF the plains,
seemed to shine.
The Colonel continued to stare.
Relief and wonderment struggled for
the mastery on his handsome face.
Briggs, you're hero; a hero, !
tell you. I'm dumb. l don't know
how it's been done. Would you mind
telling me how as we go back? It's
not ten minutes since 1 told my
daughter you'd been dead fort
night. She was trusting to you.
Briggs bent down under pretense
of fastening loose end of his put
tees. They came to the bungalow at
the moment; servant took the
horse. and the two men were alone
together.
I'm astonished. tell you. When
they hear III England it'll be the v.
iG. Victoria CROSSE, Briggs. and Heav-
en- knows what else. You take 1t
very cody. Personally, I owe you q
debt which will never be repaid. You
understand without my telling
eyes. Sir Frank, fully under-
stand s
I you'll get recognition, don't fear.
Chaps like you are only born once or
twice in while, and we generally
know what to do with them. But
you are SO quiet with 1t all, Just as
Una says. You have champion In
her, Briggs. You and she seem to
understand one another"
The Colonels keen eyes on Briggs
face read his soul. 1t was reve-
4lation to the old man, and for the
moment quenching of hope. For
she was a very rare creature, con-
corning whom he had dreamed his
dreams. But that unworthy moment
passed, and he offered his hand.
you have given me back all ! prize
in this world save her, and you have
the right to speak. You will find her
within.
Three weeks later the story OF the
peril and the salvation of Ragoote
was told in the home papers, and read
at many breakfast tables. In GER
tain middle-class morning-room at
streatham Common. in the columns
Of the Daily Telegraph, William
Briggs, senior, now grown portly and
bald. read the brief despatch winch
conferred distinction on his son.
Mother, read that" he cried excit-
eddy. and passed 1t over
Some one leaned upon her shoulder
and read with her the words with
which all England was ringing.
It was Lucy. She burst into tears.
British Weekly.
Birds Cross no Deep Seas.
Frank Chapman, of the New YORK
Museum Of Natural History, has been
,,,,,+,n1 ahout the birds of England,