The Sauk Centre herald., 1909-10-14

trenches or the wheels of guns, and
torn by bursting shell. Two miles the
horses went parallel to the front;
then they headed to the left again and
cantered up the deserted slope.
1t is the hand of God that puts a
degree too much elevation in smok-
ing bore and that cuts shrapnel fuse
second too long. But it was pity
and not profanity that was in Tim
othy's curse when he raised his eyes
painfully after the shrieking terror
| had passed, and saw Sheridan-Bed
| stretched silent on the ground ahead.
In a moment he was out of the saddle
| and his hand was at his companions
heart. A fragment of the shell had
torn his breast and the blood was
rushing out in dark spurts. -.
"You can't-help it," gasped the dy-
ing man. I'm done. Butt say-take
this-message. The Boer-center-
has pushed-too far ahead. The-left
of it's-exposed. The Red-brigade-
to charge. Understand"
eyes," said Timothy, and as he
spoke a smile of thanks fitted over
the face before him, and then, with a
shudder, fed, and the English soldier
had passed in the old English way he
had learned at his public school, play
ing the game for the games sake to
the end.
The little New York reporter viewed
him for a moment in silence. Then
he pulled out his handkerchief and
spread it over the dead face.
"He was a good sport" he said SOL
emnly. And this, by the strange
chance of war, was the requiem Of
the Hon. Philip Fitz Herbert Howard
Sheridan.Bedford, captain in her mai
esty's army, beside the biers of whose
people archbishops of Canterbury had
prayed and royal knees had bowed in
sorrow.
Nor was it lengthy service. Tim
othy shook himself together with a
sigh and turned back for his horse.
He had his foot already in the stirrup
when a thought struck him and he
stepped down again.
by CAD, that fat-head of general
won't believe mel" he said. Hes
not going to take any orders from a
Yankee civilian"
The Red Brigadier had reputation
for three things: propriety, brain
the size of a dried pea, and courage
as great as a furious bulls. He was
newly come and his brigade, fat fed.
fresh from England, was near weep
ing for a fight; but he would die in
his tracks before taking orders from a
war correspondent. The warm Irish
heart in Timothy's breast swelled
with sorrow at the thought. To his
credit, the swelling was due no more
to grief at his own loss of tremen-
dous story than to the thought of the
wasted life before him, poured out in
vain if the message failed.
And then there flashed on him
great idea. At first he repelled it
with shame But desire is a sweet
master of logic and after minutes
swift weighing of chances he sue
cumbed.
81 may hang for it," he remarked
judicially, "but it's the one chance.
The brigadier didn't know Bedford
from a rabbit. And he'd want it,
too," he added apologetically, stoop-
ing over and raising the handkerchief
from the ashy face before him.
The Red Brigadier sat beneath his
bomb-proof, in no amiable frame of
mind. He was sick of lying helpless
under flight of screaming shrapnel,
and seeing his men dropping away by
ones and twos on stretchers to the
rear. He wanted action. He wanted
Capt. Sheridan-Bedford, with ord
ders from the commanding general,
sir"
Capt Sheridan-Bedford stood before
him, pale, hatchet-faced youngster
in a badly fitting uniform, wet and
torn about the chest.
"Well?" demanded the general
sharply.
Gen. Butler says, sir, that the
Beers have advanced their center too
far. The flank is exposed. Your bri-
gade is to charge"
"When?" demanded the Red Briga-
dier.
"You may charge when ready, sir"
replied Capt Sheridan-Bedford, his
lips falling naturally into an oft-re-
peated saying of his people.
Haven't you any further orders?"
"The general said toto use your
best judgment, sir"
The brigadier rose, and, muttering
to himself something about young
idiots appointed by influence, made
for the door.
Five hours later the British war Of
fee was thrilling with the bleak Of
fetal report of the brilliant sacrifice
of the Red Brigade and the conse-
quent crumpling and ignominious
fight of the Boer center. Weeping
mothers were praying throughout
England that their sons might be
among the few who had been spared
Three raging correspondents, headed
by Marklin, were storming about
U