The weekly times-record. (Valley City, N.D.) 1912-1922, 1915-03-18
( Continued from Page 1O.)

self with great effort, and in moment
realized where he was and that to
linger there was horrible death. On
each side Of the river rose an inclined
bank, not very high and thickly grown
with mimosa bush. This meant to him
that beyond it and probably within
easy reach, there would be shade from
the intense and dreadful glare beat.
ing down upon him, with death in
every ray. He groaned and Pitchoune's
voice answered him. Sabron paid no
attention to his deg, did not even call
his name. His mind, accustomed to
quick decisions and to matter-of-fact
consideration of life, instantly took its
proper course. He must get out of the
river bed or die there rot there.
What there was before him to dc
was so stupendous an undertaking that
it made him almost unconscious OF the
pain in his loins. He could not stand.
could not thoroughly raise himself:
but by great and painful effort, bleed
ing at every move, he could crawl; he
did so, and the sun beat down upon
him. .Pitchoune walked by his side,
whining, talking to him, encouraging
him, and the spahi, ashen pale, his
bright gray uniform ripped and stained,
all alone in the desert, with death
above him and death on every hand,
crawled, dragged, hitched along out Of
the river to the bank, cheered, en-
couraged by his little dog.
For drop of water he would have
given-oh, what had he to give? For
a little shade he would have given
about all he had to give had been
given to his duty in this engagement
which could never bring him glory, or
distinction or any renown. The work
of spahi with a native regiment is
not a very glorious affair. He was
simply an officer who fell doing his
daily work.
Pitchoune barked and cried out to
him: "Courage!"
II shall die here at the foot of the
mimosa" sabron thought; and his
hands hardly had the courage or
strength to grasp the first bushes by
which he meant to pull himself up on
the bank. The little dog was close to
him, leaping, springing near him. and
Sabron did not know how tired and
thirsty and exhausted his brave little
companion was, or that perhaps in
that heroic little body there was as
much of soldiers soul as in his own
human form.
The sun was so hot that it seemed
to sing in the bushes. It's torrid fever
struck on his brown, struck on his
chest; why did it not kill him? He
was not even delirious, and yet the
bushes sang dry and cracking. What
was their melody? He knew it. Just
one melody haunted him always, and
now he knew the words: they were
prayer for safety.
But" Sabron said aloud, ut is a
prayer to be said at night and not in
the afternoon of an African hell"
He began to climb; he pulled him,
self along, leaving his track in blood
He tainted twice, and the thick
growth held him like the wicker of a
cradle, and before he came to his con.
seriousness the sun was mercifully 20
ing down. He finally reached the top
of the bank anf lay there painting.
Not far distant were the bushes Of
rose and mimosa flower, and still pant
ing, weaker I'D ever weaker, his cour
age the only living thing in him, Sab
ron, with Pitchoune by his side
dragged himself into healing hands.
All that night Sabron was delirious;
his mind travelled far into vague fan.
tastic countries, led back again, ever
gently, by tune, to safety. .... .
Every now and then he would real.
lie that he was alone on the vast
desert. destined to finish his existence
here, to cease being q human creature
and to become nothing but carrion.
Moments Of consciousness succeeded
those Of mental disorder. Every now
and then he would feel Pitchoune
close to his arm The dog licked his
hand and the touch was grateful to
the deserted officer. Pitchoune licked
his masters cheek and Sabron felt
that there was another life beside his
in the wilderness. Neither dog nor
man could long exist, however, with.
out food or drink and Sabron was
growing momentarily weaker. .
The Frenchman. though philoso-
pher, realized how hard it was to die
unsatisfied in love, unsatisfled in life,
having accomplished nothing, having
wished many things and realized at
an early age only death! Then this
point Of view changed and the phys.
ical man was uppermost.
He groaned Tor water, he groaned
for relief from pain, turned his head
from side to side, and Pitchoune
whined softly. sabron was not strong
enough to speak to him. and their
voices, Of man and beast, inarticulate.
mingled both left to die in the open.
Then sabron violently rebelled and
cried out in his soul against fate and