The weekly times-record. (Valley City, N.D.) 1912-1922, 1915-03-18

Oelrlum anu 10 tie! lie Knew enough
of injuries to feel sure that his wound
alone would not kill him. When he
had first dragged himself into the
shade he had tainted, and when he
came to himself he might have
stanched his blood. His wound was
hardly bleeding now. 1t had already
died! Fatigue and thirst, fever would
finish him, not his hurt. He was too
young to die.
With great effort he raised himself
on his arm and scanned the desert
stretching on all sides like rosy sea-
Along the river bank the pale and deli
cate blossom and leaf OF the mimosa
lay like blush veil, and the smell of
the evening and the smell of the mi
mosa flower and the perfumes of the
weeds came to him, aromatic and
sweet. Above his head the blue sky
was ablaze with stars and directly
over him the evening star hung like
crystal lamp. But there was no beau.
ty in it for the wounded officer who
looked in vain to the dark shadows on
the desert that might mean approach
ing human life. It would be better to
die as he was dying, than to be found
by the enemy!
The sea of waste rolled unbroken as
far as his fading eyes could reach.
He sank back with a sigh, not to rise
again, and closed his eyes and waited.
He slept a short, restless, feverish
sleep, and in it dreams chased one an
other like those evoked by narcotic,
but out Of them. over and over again
came the picture of Julia Redmond,
and she sang to him the song whose
words were prayer for the safety
of a loved one during the night.
From that romantic melody there
seemed to rise more solemn ones. He
heard the rolling of the organ in the
cathedral In his native town, for he
came from Rouen originally, where
there is one Of the most beautiful
cathedrals in the world. The music
rolled and rolled and passed over the
deserts face. 1t seemed to lift his
spirit and to cradle it.. Then he
breathed his prayers-they took form,
and in his sleep he repeated the Ave
Maria and the Paternoster, and the
words rolled and rolled over the
deserts face and the supplication
seemed to his feverish mind to mingle
with the stars.
I
A sort Of midnight dew fell upon
him: so at least he thought, and it
seemed to him heavenly dew and to
! cover him like benignant rain. He
| grew cooler He prayed again, and
with his words there came to the
young man an ineffable sense of peace.
He pillowed his fading thoughts upon
1t; he pillowed his aching mind upon
1t and his body, too, and the pain of
his wound and he thought aloud, with
only the night airs to hear him, in
broken sentences: IF this is death it
/ is not so-Ibad One should rather be
afraid of life. This is not difficult, if
I should ever get out of here shall
not regret this night"
Toward morning he grew calmer, he
turned to speak to his little compan.
ion. In his troubled thoughts he had
forgotten Pitchoune.
Sabron family called him. There
was no response. Then the soldier
listened in silence. 1t was absolutely
unbroken. Not even the call of
night bird-not even the cry of n.y.
nothing came to him but the in.
articulate voice of the desert. Great
| and solemn awe crept up to him, crept
up to him like a spirit and sat down
by his side. He felt his hands grow
cold, and his feet grow cold. Now, un-
able to speak aloud. there passed
through his mind that this, indeed, was
death, desertion absolute in the heart
| Of the plains.