Ladysmith news-budget. [volume] (Ladysmith, Rusk County, Wis.) 1907-1927, 1909-11-11

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
"Yes,' said Timothy. and as he
spoke smile of thanks fitted over
the face before him, and then, with
shudder, fled, 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 moment in silence. Then
he pulled out his handkerchief and
spread it over the dead face.
HE was good sport" he said sol
EMMY. And this. by the strange
chance of war was the requiem of
the Hon Philip Fitz Herbert Howard
Sheridan-Bedford, captain in her NAL
esty's army, beside the biers of whose
people archbishops of Canterbury had
prayed and royal knees had bowed in
sorrow.
Nor was it a 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 thought struck him and he
stepped down again.
by CAD, that fat-head Of a general
won't believe mel he said. He's
not going to take any orders from
Yankee civilian"
The Red Brigadier had reputation
for three things: propriety, brain
the size of dried pea, and a courage
as great as 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 III
his tracks before taking orders from
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great idea At first he repealed it
with shame. But desire is sweet
master of logic and after minutes
swift weighing of chances he sue
cumbed.
81 may hang for it." he remarked
iudicially, "but us the one chance.
The brigadier didn't know Bedford
from a rabbit. Ald he'd want it,
too" he added alphabetically, 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 a fight 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 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-
der.
"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-
ouent 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
Headquarters, searching vainly for
particulars. Timothy O'Hara, in an
undersbirt and the breeches of
British staff captain, was feeding the
middle of his first great brilliant
SCOOP into the wire at Krogsdoorp,
trembling to know that the beginning
was already ticking delighted wonder
into the heart of the managing editor
of The New York Morning Post And
out on the veldt, with the handker
chief blown from his face, and his
sightless eyes fixed on the stars, lay
the body of Capt. Sheridan-Bedford,
| stripped of his uniform even to his
boots, and wrapped in horse blanket
through which the blood from his
breast had soaked in a stiff. damp
| stain