The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1913-08-30
Between Tim And The Padre

The sun shone down pitilessly on
the dusty plain, on the rough scrub.
by heritage and the cactus plants that
stretched green fingers into the white
desert in vain attempt to wrest ii
from the universal drought. From
the distance came the roar of cannon,
and now and then the thunder of q
thousand voices shouting! shouting!
That was without.
But within the mission there was
peace, the peace that lowered above
the ruins that war had left; the peace
of death to some, of suffering for
others. in the quiet shadow Of the
mission patio, where the cots OF
wounded men were laid in serried
ranks under the low cloister. In the
center of the enclosure little foun.
tain splashed and gIittered in the sun.
light amid orange trees and oleand.
ers, making a pleasant sound that in.
clined to slumber.
The quiet priest of the mission
Padre Joachim, as the Mexicans call
ed him though he was of Irish par.
entage, passed from cot to cot sooth-
ing and comforting as he best could
He was not ignorant of medicine, but
without supplies he could do little
for the men under his protection save
shelter them from the heat and dust
of the desert. They followed him
with eager eyes, those American men
of Irish and German and Italian par
entage; even those with long line
of New England Puritan ancestry
grew calmer for the presence of the
grave old priest in his brown habit
whose eyes smiled at them as he pass
ed along ever seeking those whose
need was the greatest.
Lieutenant futile closed his eyes
YEARLY. His head ached, and the pair
in his shoulder was like burning
sword thrusts, but at length, utterly
exhausted, he, too, fell asleep. Now
and then sharper pang than usua,
aroused him, and he swore; not loud
ly, but the Irish boy in the cot next
to him shuddered at the mans wilC
words. He was too weak to speak
much, however, and besides, the
lieutenant was his officer, and so mill
tary discipline sealed his lips.
The cannon shots grew less fire
quent and more distant as the day
wore toward evening, and the shout
ing had ceased The lieutenant noted
| it all, and understood that the bat
tie was over, and he longed for news
How had the day gone? and how
many of his brave comrades had fall
en-? He could stand it no longer, ant
made frantic effort to rise, but hi
was too weak, and the pain of hi
wound admonished him to desist. H,
lay back weakly-and swore again.
A sigh came from the cot at hi
side, and he turned his eyes languid
ly in the direction of the sound. T.
his surprise, he encountered the fami
liar features of his own servant, Tin
/ O'More, the life of the regiment ant
the most irrepressible joker of then
all.
"Tim!" he exclaimed, feebly.
Lieutenant" replied the boy.
you are wounded, too, / see."
KILLED entirely this time, SIR
The words came weakly, but firmly
mot so bad as that, Tim. YOU
be better soon curse this pain in m
shoulder he muttered. I'D be a
the front yet if it wasn't for that"
The Irish boys eyes glistenet
Deed then sir, it's time you took
rest; and there's hot work going O
out there. We're better out of it."
Lieutenant futile drew in his lip
in a low whistle of astonishmen
This from Tim, the biggest dare-dey
of them all, the boy who was Away
spelling for a fight and seemed a
though he could never have enoug
of it! He began to think that the DO
really was "killed entirely" as b
had said.
And then the Padre came agail
This time he bent over Tins cot tel
derly and spoke to him gently. Th
lieutenant watched him, and saw hil
raise his hand for a moment over th
suffering form. He saw, too, th
restful look that crept into the lad
grey eyes and the calmness of then
even when the pain forced him to bit
his lipe lest he should cry out an
disturb his comrades. He saw, to-
how the Padres face softened whe
the boy spoke to him in some quee
language that he had never heard b
fore. And then the priest passed 0
with a gentle smile and a courteou
inclination of his head to the Office
Lieutenant futile was annoyed. AT
er all, Tim O'More was but his Sc
want, and he felt that it was his rigl
as an officer to receive the first attel
lions of his host; but another glant
at Tins suffering face disarmed b
resentment and even caused him Ii
] tie culver of shame, for he began
see quite plainly that the boys houl
were numbered.
The Padre passed untiringly fro
cot tn cot. bending now and then