6
THE SONG OF THE RILL.
▲ laughing little rivulet.
Went dancing on Its way.
And ever, as It ran. It sang
This blithesome little lay:
"1 come from the mountain.
Where chilly winds blow,
•On, on toward the ocean,
1 sing as 1 go.
112 O'er rocky cliffs leaping,
I laugh as I spring,
And the rougher the journey
The louder I sing."
I watched the little rivulet
Grow strong and deep and wide
When lo! It turned a busy mill.
And yet its glad voice cried:
Oh. happy, thrice happy
The stream that can do
Some good as it journeys
This weary world through!
When duty is pleasure
And pleasure is duty,
Then life is all gladness
And sunshine and beauty."
A river now the stream became,
And winter's chains had bound
An icy sheet upon its breast.
And yet I heard a sound:
"The breath of the Frost Kin,
Has*iienced my voice,
But down In the darkness
I yet may rejoice.
While winter is raging
In sleet and In storm,
Out of sight In my bosom
My heart is still warm."
At last the river found the sea.
And with Its might and main
Took up the song the ocean sang.
And this was its refrain:
"The mountains and moorlandf,
The Isles of the sea.
The winds and the waters
Are happy and free.
'Tis the spirit within us
That sings or is sad;
Oh, hearts of God's children,
Sing, sing, and be glad!"
—Martha A. Burdick, in Golden Days.
(Copyright, 1897. by F Tennyson Neely.J
CHAPTER XV.—CONTINUED.
In broad daylight, at his official
desk, in the presence and hearing of
officers, civilians and enlisted men, as
the soldier lawyers would have it,
* staff official of high rank had been
eowhided by a cavalry subaltern, and
that subaltern, of all others, the only
brother of Folsom's fair guest, Jessie
Dean—the boy who had saved the
lives of Folsom's son and his son's im
periled household, and had thereby en
deared himself to him as had no other
young soldier in the service. And now,
what fate was staring him in the
face? Released from arrest but a day
or so before upon appeal of the offi
cer whom he had so soon thereafter
violently assaulted, Marshall Dean
had committed one of the gravest
crimes against the provisions of he
mutiny act. Without warrant or ex
cuse he had struck, threatened, as
saulted, etc., a superior officer, who
•was in the discharge of his duty at
the time. i>o matter what the prov
ocation—and in this case it would be
held grossly inadequate —there could
be only one sentence —summary dis
missal from the army. Just as sure
as shooting, if Burleigh preferred
•narges that boy was ruined.
And four mortal hours that afternoon
It looked as though nothing could hold
Burleigh's hand. The man was livid
with wrath. First he would have the
youngster's blood, and then he'd dis
miss him. Folsom pointed out that
he couldn't well do both, and by two
o'clock it simmered down to a demand
for instant court-martial. Burleigh
wrote a furious telegram to Omaha.
He had been murderously assaulted in
his office by Lieut. Dean. He demand
ed his immediate arrest and trial. Fol
som pleaded with him to withhold it.
possible amende would be made,
but no! Indeed, not until nearly four
o'clock could Folsom succeed in the
last resort at his disposal. At that
hour he had lent the quartermaster
•15 ,000 on his unindorsed note of hand,
on condition that no proceedings what
ever should be taken against Mr. Dean,
Folsom guaranteeing that every
amende should be made that fair arbi
tration could possibly dictate. He
had even gone alone to the bank and
brought the cash on Burleigh's repre
sentation that it might hurt his credit
to appear as a borrower. He had even
pledged his word that the transaction
should be kept between themselves.
And then there had been a scene with
that drunken wretch Newhall. What
possible hold had he on Burleigh that
he should be allowed to come reeling
and storming into the office and de
manding money and lots of money—
this, too, in the presence of total
strangers? And Burleigh had actual
ly paid him then and there some hun
dreds of dollars, to the stupefaction of
tbe fellow—who had come for a row.
They got him away somehow, glad to
go, possibly, with his unexpected
wealth, and Burleigh had explained
that that poor devil, when he could be
persuaded to swear off, was one of
the bravest and most efficient officers
In the service, that he was well to do,
only his money, too, was tied up in
mines; but what was of more account
than anything else, he had devotedly
and at risk of his own life from in
fection nursed his brother officer Bur
leigh through the awful epidemic of
yellow fever in New Orleans in '67. He
had saved Burleigh's life, "so how can I
ijjo back on him now," said he.
All this was the old trader revolv
ing in mind as he hastened to the de
pot, all this and more. For two days
Marshall Dean and C troop had stood
ready for special service. Rumor had
ft that the old general himself had
determined to take the field and was
on his way to Gate City. It was pos
sibly to escort him and his staff the
troop was ordered kept prepared to
.move at a moment's notice. On Bur-
Leigh's desk was a batch of telegrams
from department headquarters. Two
came in during their long conference
in the afternoon, and the quartermas
ter had lowered his hand long enough
from that lurid welt on his sallow
cheek to hurriedly write two or three
in reply. One Folsom felt sure was
sent in cipher. Two days before, Bur
leigh had urged him to protest as ve
hemently as lie could against the send
ing of any money or any small detach
ment up to the Big Horn, and protested
he had strenuously. Two days before,
Burleigh said it was as bad as murder
to order a paymaster or disbursing of
ficer to the Bills with anything less
than a battalion to escort him, and yet
within four hours after he was put
in possession of nearly all the paper
currency in the local bank a secret
order was issued sending Lieut. Dean
with ten picked men to slip through
the passes to the Platte, away from
the beaten road, and up to ten p. m.
Dean himself was kept in ignorance
of his further destination or the pur
pose of his going. Not until half-past
ten was a sealed package placed in his
hands by the post quartermaster, who
had himself received it from Maj. Bur
leigh, and then and there the young
officer was bidden by Col. Stevens, as
the medium of the department com
mander, to ride with all haste com
mensurate with caution, to ford the
Sweetwater above its junction with
the l'latte, to travel by night if need
be and hide by day if he could, to let
no man or woman know the purpose
of his going or the destination of bis
journey, but to land that package safe
at Warrior Gap before the moon should
wane.
And all this Burleigh must have
known when he, John Folsom, shook
his hand at parting after tea that
evening, and had then gone hopefully
to drive his girls to Emory to see
his soldier boy, and found him busy
with the sudden orders, received not
ten minutes before their coming.
Something in Burleigh's almost trem
ulous anxiety to get that money in
the morning, his ill-disguised chagrin
at Folsom's refusal, something in the
eagerness with which, despite the fu
rious denunciation of the moment be
fore, he jumped at Folsom's offer to
put up the needed money if he would
withhold the threatened charges—all
came back to the veteran now and
had continued to keep him thinking
during the night. Could it be that'
Burleigh stood in need of all this
money to cover other sums that he
had misapplied? Could it be that he
had planned this sudden sending of
young Dean on a desperate mission in
revenge that he could not take offi
cially? There were troops at Frayne
going forward in strong force with
in the week. There were other offi
cers within call, a dozen of them,
who had done nowhere near the
amount of field service performed
by Dean. He, a troop commander
just in from long and toilsome
marches and from perilous duty, had
practically been relieved from the
What possible bold had he on Burleigh?
command of his troop, told to take ten
men and run the gantlet through
the swarming Sioux. The more Fol
som thought the more he believed
that he had grave reason for his sus
picion, and reason equally grave for
calling on the quartermaster for ex
planation. He reached the corral
gate. It was locked, but a little
postern in the stockade let him
through. One or two sleepy hands
appeared about the stables, but the
office was deserted. Straight to Bur
leigh's quarters he went and banged
at the door. It took three bangs
to bring a servant.
"I wish to see your master at once.
Tell him I am here," and as the serv
ant slowly shambled up the stairs,
Folsom entered the sitting-room. A
desk near the window was open and
its contents littered about. The draw
ers in a heavy bookcase were open
and papers were strewn upon the
floor. The folding doors to the din
ing-room were open. Decanters, gob
lets, cigar stumps and heel taps were
scattered over the table. Guest or
host, or both, had left things in riot
ous shape. Then down came the serv
ant, a scared look in his eyes.
"The major isn't in, sir. His bed
hasn't been occupied, an' tne captain's
gone, too. Their uniforms are there,
though."
Five minutes later, on a borrowed
horse, John Folsom was galloping like
mad for his home. A door in the
high board fence at the rear of his
house shot open just as he was dart
ing through the lane that led to the
stable. A woman's form appeared in
the gap—the last thing that he saw
for a dozen hours, for the horse shied
violently, hurling the rider headlong
to the ground.
CnAPTUR XVI.
At three o'clock in the morning,
while the stars were still bright in
the eastern sky, the little party of
troopers, Dean at their head, had
ridden away from the twinkling lights
of camp, and long before sunrise had
crossed the first divide to the north,
and alternating trot, lope and walk
had put miles between them and Fort
Emory before the drums of the in
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 2 r, 1901.
fantry beat the call for guard mount
ing.
At ten o'clock the party halted un
der some spreading willows, deep
in a cleft of the bold, high hills that
rolled away toward the Sweetwater
valley. Horses were unsaddied and
picketed out to graze. A little cook
fire was started close to the spring
that fed the tiny brook, trickling
away down the narrow ravine, and in
a few moments the aroma of coffee
and of appetizing slices of bacon greet
ed the welcoming nostrils of the hun
gry men. The sun that had risen
clear and dazzling was now obscured
by heavy masses of clouds, and time
and again Dean cast anxious eyes
aloft, for a storm seemed sweeping
eastward from the distant Wahsatch
range, and long before the little com
mand had dived downward from the
heights into the depths of this wild,
romantic and contracted valley, all
the rolling upland toward Green river,
far to the west, lay under the pall of
heavy and forbidding banks of hur
rying vapor. Coffee and breakfast fin
ished, Dean cliuibed the steep bluff
overhanging the spring, a faithful
sergeant following, and what he saw
was sufficient to determine immediate
action.
"Saddle up. We'll push ahead at
once."
For an instant the veteran trooper
looked dissent, but discipline pre
vailed.
"The lieutenant knows that Carey's
not in yet,' he ventured to say, as he
started back down the narrow game
trail which they had climbed.
"Yes; but yonder he conies and so
does the storm. We can't be caught in
this canyon in case of a hard rain.
Let Carey have some coffee and a bite,
if he feels well enough. Then we'll
push on."
Ordinarily when making summer
marches over the range, the first "wa
ter camp"on the Sweet-water trail
was here at Canon Springs. On the
road to Frayne, which crossed the
brook ten miles to the east, all wagon
trains and troops not on forced inarch
made similar camp. In the case of
scouting detachments or little parties
sent out from Emory, it was always
customary to spend the first night and
make the first camp on the Box Elder
at furthermost, then to push on,
ready and refreshed, the following
day. Dean well knew that to get the
best work out of his horses he should
start easily, and up to nine o'clock he
had fully intended to make the usual
camp at the Springs. But once be
fore, within a few years, a big scout
ing party camping in the gorge of the
Box Elder had been surprised by one
of those sudden, sweeping storms, and
before they could strike tents, pack
up and move to higher ground, the
stream took matters into its own
hands and spared them all further
trouble on that score, distributing
camp and garrison equipage for long
leagues away to the east. Two miles
back, trooper Carey, who had been
complaining of severe cramp and pain
in the stomach, begged to be allowed
to fall out and rest awhile. He was a
reliable old soldier when whisky was
not winning the upper hand, and this
time whisky was not at fault. A dose
of Jamaica ginger was the only thing
their field pharmacopoeia provided,
and Carey rolled out of his saddle and
doubled up among the rocks with his
hands on the pit of his stomach,
grimacing.
"Go back if you think best, or come
ahead and catch us at the Springs if
well enough," were the orders left
him, while the men pushed on, and
now, as the lieutenant said, Carey was
coming himself. Some of the party
were already dozing when the ser
geant's sharp order "Saduie up" was
given, but a glance at the lowering
sky explained it all, and every man
was standing to horse and ready when
the missing trooper came jogging in
among them, white, peaked, but de
termined. A look of mingled disap
pointment and relief appeared on his
face as he saw the preparations for
the start, but his only comment was:
"I can make it, sir," as he saluted his
young commander. Less than two
hours from the time they unsaddled,
therefore, the troopers once more
mounted, and, following their leader,
filed away down the winding gorge.
Presently there came the low rumble
of thunder, and a sweep of the rising
wind. "Trot," said Dean, and without
other word the little column quick
ened the pace.
The ravine grew wider soon and far
less tortuous, but was still a narrow
and dangerous spot. For a mile or
two from the Springs its course was
nearly east of north, then it bore
away to the northeast, and the Sweet
water trail abruptly left it and went
winding up a cleft in the hills to the
west. Just as they reached this point
the heavens opened and the clouds de
scended in a deluge of rain. Out came
the ponchos, unstrapped from the sad
dle, and every man's head popped
through the slit as the shiny black
"shedwater" settled down on his
shoulders.
"That outfit behind us will get a
soaking if it has been fool enough to
follow down to the Springs," said
Carey to the sergeant, as they began
the pull up the slippery trail.
"What outfit?" asked Dean, turning
in the saddle and looking back in sur
prise.
A blinding flash of lightning, fol
lowed almost on the instant by the
crack and roar of thunder, put sum
mary stop to talk of any kind. Men
and horses bowed their heads before
the deluge and the rain ran in streams
from the manes and tails. The as
cending path turned quickly into a
running brook and the black forms
of steeds and riders struggled side wise
up the grass-grown slopes in search
of higher ground. The heavens had
turned inky black. The gloomy ra
vine grew dark as night. Flash after
flash the lightning split the gloom.
Every second or two trooper faces
gleamed ghastly in the dazzling glare,
then as suddenly vanished. Horses
slipped or stumbled painfully and,
man after man, the riders followed
the example of the young soldier in
the lead and, dismounting, led their
dripping beasts farther up the steep
incline. Half-way to the summit,
peering through the win«t-swept
sheets of rain, a palisaded clump of
rocks jutted out from the heights
and, after a hard climb, the little
band found partial shelter from the
driving storm, and huddled, awe
stricken, at their base. Still the
lightning played and the thunder can
nonaded with awful resonance from
crag to crag down the deep gorge
from which they had clambered, evi
dently none too soon, for presently,
far down the black depths, they could
see the Box Elder under a white
wreath of foam, tearing in fury down
its narrow bed.
"Beg pardon, lieutenant," shouted
the veteran sergeant in the young
commander's ear, even in that mo
ment never forgetting the habitual
salute, "but if I didn't see the reason
for that sudden order to saddle I
more than see it now. We would have
been drowned like rats down there in
the gulch."
"I'm wondering if anybody has
drowned like rats," shouted Dean, in
reply. "Carey says another party was
just behind us. Who could they be?"
But for answer came another vivid,
dazzling flash that for an instant
blirded all eyes. "By God! but that's
a stunner!" gasped a big trooper, and
then followed the deafening bang and
crash of the thunder, and its echoes
went booming and reverberating from
earth to heaven and rolling away,
peal after peal, down the bluff-bound
canyon. For a moment no other
sound could be heard; then, as it
died away and the rain came swash
ing down in fresh deluge, Carey's
voice overmastered the storm.
"That's struck something, sir, right
around yonder by the Springs, (iod
help that outfit that came a-gallopin'
after me!"
"What was it? Which way were
they coming?" Dean managed to ask.
"Right along the bluff, sir, to the
east. Seemed like they was ridin' over
from the old camp on the Frayne
road. There was 25 or 30 of 'em, I
should say, coming at a lope."
"Cavalry?" asked Dean, a queer look
in his face.
"No, sir. They rode dispersed like.
They was a mile away when I sighted
them, and it was gittin' so black then
I don't think they saw me at all.
They were 'bout off yonder, half a
mile east of the Springs, when I
dipped down into the ravine, and
what seemed queer was that two of
them galloped to the edge, dismount
ed, and were peering down into the
gwrge like so many Indians, just as
though they didn't want to be seen.
I was goin' to tell the lieutenant
'bout, it first thing if I had found our
fellows off their guard, but you were
all mounted and just starting."
[To Be Continued.]
A PUEBLO LEGEND.
Poetic Tale of the City of Pecos Thai
Hus Ueen Ilnnded Down Through
Many Generations.
Through all the grotesque darkness
of Pueblo superstition runs a bright
threadof poetic legend; and one legend,
since it is woven around the ruined es
tufa in the ruined l'ueblo of Pecos, h«s
a right to be told here, writes Marion
Hill, in Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly.
Pecos was founded by the man-god,
the great Montezuma himself, and he
therefore probably felt a protective in
terest in it; at any rate, when tlia
usurping Spaniards lay upon the con
quered Pueblos a cursed rule of re
straint and wrong, Montezuma invoked
against them the aid of liis brother
gods in Heaven. These told him to
plant a tree upside down beside the
chief estufa of I'ecos, and to light a
holy fire upon the altar, and if the fire
were kept burning until the tree fell
then would there come to the rescue
of the oppressed a great pale-face na
tion, and deliver them from the Span
ish thrall.
So the fire was lit, and a sentinel was
posted to guard its sacred flame; and
the tree was planted—under the cir
cumstances the planter would be ex
cusable in planting the tree as inse
curely as possible. But year after year
passed, and the tree remained standing.
Sentinel succeeded sentinel, and the
flame lived on. Generations withered
away, yet deliverance seemed no near
er. One day there came a rumor from
old Santa Fe that the city had surren
dered to a white-faced people. Was
this the band of deliverers? That day
at noon the sacred tree toppled and
fell. Spanish rule was no more. The
prophecy had been fulfilled.
If there be an unbeliever of this
legend, let him goto the ruins of Pe
cos and see for himself that whereas
the city was built upon a mesa so bar
ren that no trees are there nor ever
have been there, yet across the crum
bling estufa lies the fallen body of a
pine of mighty growth. The like of it
is not for many miles around. Whence
then did it come?
Ilenr and Cow Friends.
Out in Wyoming a farmer caught a
bear cub and put it in the barn ovet
night. In the morning he found it
lying alongside of a cow whose call
had been taken away the day before
The bear was taking milk from tin
cow. From that day a friendship
sprang up between the oddly assort
ed pair, and the farmer, out of curios
ity, let them go together. The beai
went to pasture with the cow and re
turned with her, and When the covi
was being milked, would sit on lib
hind legs and watch the operation
The cow would look at the little fel
low and "moo" contentedly, and licl
him fondly. But the cub soon grew
too big and rough in its play, and th«
cow hooked him, so the pair wen
separated and the bear was sold to •
circus man.—Golden. Daja.
"lam so nervous and wretched." "I feel as if I should
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annoy you and make you irritable, You can't sleep, you are
unfit for ordinary duties, and are subject to dizziness.
That bearing-down sensation helps to make you feel
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You have backache and pains low down in the side, pain
in top of head, later on at the base of the brain.
Such a condition points unerringly to serious uterine
trouble.
If you had written to Mrs. Pinkham when you first ex
perienced impaired vitality, you would have been spared
these hours of awful suffering.
Happiness will bo gone out of your life forever, my sister,
unless you act promptly. Procure Lydia E. Pinkham's
Vegetable Compound at once. It is absolutely sure to
help you. Then write to Mrs. Pinkham, at Lynn, Mass., if
there is anything about your case you do not understand.
You need not be afraid to tell her the things you could
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and is absolutely confidential. Mrs. Pinkham's vast experi
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Mrs. Valentine Tells of Happy Results Accomplished by
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spa A iflfe E) I" lAf ABn Otvin? to the fact that some skeptical
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Iland of plenty, lllus
| I ||»vy 112» 11 riited pamphlets. Riving
I JjlAvl P rtfl (experiences of farmers
I RrV S 1 rirLi who have become wealthy
Ingrowing wheat, reports
I "W of delegates, etc.. and full
I V ff Information as to reduced
fIJWw railway rates can he had
l ~—application to the
Superintendent of Immigration Department of
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signed. who will mall you atlases, pamphlets, etc.,
free of cost. F. PKDLEY. Sunt, of Immigration.
Ottawa. Canada; or to M. \ . MoINNKS. No. i
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Big Four Bldg., Indianapolis. Ind.
GA n All Union
• ft> if.Soldiers
Who hare Homeateaded less than 160 acres before June
22d, 1874, »re cutltU-d to enough land to make
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PIT. 8, 817—14 th Struct. WASHINGTON. D. O.
VIUKII ottlcoi. Chicago, Cl»r#i«uu< mid LicUoifc