The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1915-10-07
CHAPTER |.
The Touch Of a Child.

The Touch Of Child.
nH HAVE given my word of honor,
81 my sacred oath, not to betray
what have discovered here
At these words from the pris
oner shout arose in which oaths and
mocking laughter mingled like the
growing and swapping of hunger mad
dened wolves.
''rhen if l must die" Gledware cried.
his voice in its shrill excitement dom
mating the ferocious insults of the ruff
fans, don't kill the child. You see
she is asleep. and she's so young-only
five. Even if she were awake she
wouldn't know how to tell about this
cabin. For Gods sake don't kill the
little girlr'
Since the seizure Of Gledware the
child had been lying on the rude table
in the midst of greasy pack OF cards
cards that had been thrown down at
the sound of his galloping horse. The
table supported also much of the booty
captured from the wagon train. while
on the dirt floor beside it were prizes
OF the freebooting expedition too large
to find resting place on the boards,
Nor was this ALL Mingled with stolen
garments, cans and boxes of provi-
sions, purses and bags Of gold were the
Indian disguises in which the high
waymen from No Mans Land had de-
scended on the prairie schooners on
their tedious journey from Abilene.
Kan, toward the southwest.
shut up!' roared tremendous
voice. The speaker stepped forward.
"You know l am something Of an
orator or guess you wouldn't of made
me your leader. Now, as long as I'm
your leader I'm going to lead. But l
amt never unreasonable, and when
| talk is needed I'm copious enough. l
am called Red Kimball,' and my broth
er, yonder, he is knowed as Kansas
Kimball.' What else is knowed of us
| is this-that we wasn't never wont to
| turn loose spy when once ketched.
| Here is man who says he is Henry
Gledware, though God knows If that's
so. He comes galloping up to the door
/ Just as we are in the midst of game.
l stakes all my share of the spoils on
the game, and Brick Wilcox is in a
fair way to win 1t. that l admit. but In
comes this here spy
/ The prisoner In frenzied voice dis
claimed any purpose Of spying. That
morning he had driven the last wagon
of the train, containing his invalid
wife and his stepdaughter. for the child
| lying on the table was his wifes
daughter. At the alarm that the first
wagon had been attacked by Indians
he had turned about his horses and
driven furiously over the prairie, he
knew not whittier All that day he had
fed, seeing no one, hearing no pursuing
horsebeat. At night his wife, unable
In her weak condition to sustain the
terrible jolting, had expired. Taking
nothing from the wagon but his sad
die, he had mounted one Of the horses
with the child before him and had con
tinued his fight. the terrific wind a
his back.
"Well, pard," said the leader of the
band, waiting until he had finished
"you can't never claim that You ain
been given your say, for | do admire
free speech | want to address yol
reasonable and make this plain ant
simple. as only man that has beel
alleged to be something of an orato
can accomplish. My men and me ha
had our conference. and it's decides
that both of you has got to be shot ant
immediate. The reasons is none bu
what a sensible man must admit. ant
such l take you to be. am sorry thi
has happened. and so is my men. an
; we wish you WELL It's a hard sayns
nard, but whatever your intentions
spy you have proved. For what a
you find OIL busting open our door
Here we sit playing with our booty 70
stakes and our Indian togs lying a
about. You couldn't help knowing tha
we was the Indians that gutted thet