Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Co^RiGHT, 18933V CMARLCJ KJWof CHAPTEK XI—(^onunued. jjowh m the room lest or the caves Fanny and Ruth Harvey are listening in dread anxiety to the sounds of savage warfare echoing from crag to crag along the range, while every moment or two the elder turns to moisten the cloth she holds to a wounded trooper’s burning, toesing head. Sergeant Wing is fevered indeed by this time, raging with misery at thought of his helpless ness and the scant numbers of the de fense. It is a bitter pill for the soldier to swallow, this of lying in hospital when every man is needed at the front At 9 o’clock this morning a veteran In dian fighter, crouching in his sheltered lookout above the caves and scanning with practiced eye the frowning front of the range, declared that not an Apache was to be seen or heard within rifle shot, yet was in no wise surprised when, a few minutes later, as he hap pened to show his head above the rocky parapet, there came zipping a dozen bullets about his ears, and the cliffs fairly crackled with the sudden flash of rifles hidden up to that instant on every side. Indians who can creep npon wagon train or emigrant camp in the midst of an open and unsheltered plain find absolutely no difficulty in surrounding unsuspected and unseen a bivouac in the mountains. Inexperi enced officers or men would have been picked off long before the opening of the general attack, but the Apaches themselves are the first to know that they have veteran troopers to deal with, for up to this moment only one has shown himself at all. At five minutes after 9 o’clock Lieutenant Drummond, glancing exultingly around upon his lit tle band of fighters, had blessed the foresight of Pasqual Morales and his gang that they had so thoroughly forti fied their lair against sudden assault. Three on the southern, two on the north ern brink of the gorge and behind im penetrable shelter, and two more in re serve in the canyon, his puny garrison was in position and had replied with such spirit and promptitude to the Apache attack that only at rare inter vals now is a shot necessary, except when for the purpose of drawing the enemy and locating his position a hat is poked np on the muzzle of a carbine. The assailants' fire, too, is still, but that, as Drummond’s men well know, means only “look out for other devil ment. " Out on the eastward desert, still far over toward the other side, a little party of Apaches is hurrying to join the fray. Two are riding. Where got they their horses ? The others—over half a dozen —come along at their tireless jog trot. It was this party that, seen but dimly at first, gave rise to such ebullition of joy among the defenders and defended. It was this party that, closely scanned through his fieldglass, occasioned Lieu tenant Drummond’s moan of distress. With all his heart he had been hoping for the speedy coming of relief over that very trail—had counted on its reaching him during the day. He was sure it could be nothing else when the corpo ral reported something in sight, and so when he discovered the approaching party to be Apaches no words could describe the measure of his disappoint ment and dismay. Not for himself and his men; they were Old hands and had a fine position to defend. His thought are all for those in whose behalf he has already made such gallant fight and for poor Wing, whose feeble moaning every now and then reaches his ear. At 10 o'clock he is able through his glasses to distinctly make out the num ber and character of the coming party. Nine Apaches, all warriors, but one of them apparently wounded or disabled, for they have to support him on the horse, and this it is that hampers their advance and makes it slower. They are heading for the oasis at the mouth of the canyon. There they will leave their horses and their wounded, and then come creeping np the winding gorge or crouching among the bowlders from the east to join in the attack on the hated paleface. Drummond can have no doubt of that. New disposi tions are necessary. "Stay where yon arel” he shouts to his men. "You take charge up here, Costigan; I want to post a man or two below at the bend. ” And down he goes, sliding and scrambling until he reaches the edge of the brook. Moreno, S uatted against a rock, glances up at m appealingly. “Benor Teniente, I pray yon loose me and let me help. The Apache is our common enemy, ” he pleads. An idea comes to Drummond. Wing’s carbine can be utilized. He can post Moreno down the gorge at the second bend to command that approach and put little McOuffy, the recruit, at the next bend to command Moreno and send a bullet through him if be shirk or swerve. "I declare I believe I will, yon old sconndrel, ” he says. " Here, MoOuffy, untie this fellow. I’ve got to look around a minute." Into the depth of the fissure where Moreno’s women are praying and rock ing be peers a moment. One of the pronnded bandits is now past praying for. The other, painfully shot but plucky, begs to be given a chance to fight for his life. "You are too badly hurt now. Wa couldn’t get you up there, ” is the an swer. "Well, then, put me on with Moreno, wherever you’re going to assign him. Surely if you can trust a greaser you can a white man. I’m only fit to hang perhaps, but d—a me if I want to lie here when there’a an Indian fight going on." And so he, too, la loosed and lifted to his feet. Leaning on McGuffy's shoulder and supported by his arm, the pale faced stranger, preceded by Mo- pit, and these volunteer allies are piaceo in position. "We cover the approaches above so that they can’t sneak up and heave rocks down ujion yon. All you’ve got to do now is to plug every Apache that shows his nose around that bend be low," says Drummond. “McOuffy, you take poet at the point behind. Watch the overhanging cliffs and sup port as best you can." And “Little Mack,’’ as the men call him, gets fur ther instructions as he takes his posi tion, instructions which would give small comfort to Moreno could he only hear them. Then back goes the lieu tenant to where Wing is lying, Miss Harvey bending anxiously over him, her beautiful eyes filling with tears at sight of Drummond’s brave but hag gard young face. Ruth is crouching by her sister’s side, but rises quickly as Drummond enters, her fears lessening, her hopes gaining. “Any news? Anything in sight—of ours?” is Miss Harvey’s eager query. “Not yet, but they’re bound to be along almost any minute now. Some Apaches w-hom I could see coming across from the east have a wounded man with them. It makes me hope our fellows have met and fought them and are following close on their trail. How’s Wing?" She can only shake her head. “He seems delirious every now and then, perhaps only because of so much mental excitement and suffering. He is dosing now.” "Gallant fellow 1 What would we have done without him? I only wish we had more like him. Think how all my detachment has become scattered. If we had them here now, I could push out and drive the Indians to the rocks and far beyond all possibility of annoy ing you with their racket. Of court-e you are safe from their missiles down here." “ Yes, we are, but you and your sol diers, Mr. Drummond! Every shot made me fear you were hit,” cries poor little Ruth, her eyes filling, her lips quivering. Then, just as Durm- mond is holding forth a hand, perhaps it is an arm, too, she points up to the rock above where Walsh is evidently exercised about something. He has dropped his gun, picked up the glasses and is gazing down the range to the south. “Perhaps he sees some of our fellows coming for good this time. Four of them tried it awhile ago, but were prob ably attacked some miles below here and fell back on the main body. They’ll be along before a great while, and won’t it be glorious if they bring back the safe and all?" He says this by way of keeping up their spirits, then, once more wearily, but full of pluck and purpose, he climbs the rugged path and creeps to Walsh’s side. “Is it any of our men you see?” he whispers. “Divil a wan, sir I It’s more of thim infernal Apaches." Drummond takes the glass and stud ies the dim and distant group with the utmost care. Apaches beyond doubt, a dozen, and coming this way, and these, too, have a couple of horses. Can they have overpowered his men, am bushed and murdered them, then se cured their mounts ? Is the whole Chir- icahua tribe, re-enforced by a swarm from the Sierra Blanca, concentrating on him now ? The silence about him is ominous. Not an Indian has shown him self along the range for half an hour, and now these fellows to the east are close to the copse. In less than 30 min utes there will lie five times his puny force around him. Is there no hope of rescue? Once more he turns to the east, across the shimmering glare of that parched and tawny plain, and strains his eyes in vain effort to catch sight of the longed for column issuing from the op posite valley, but it is hopeless. The hot sun beats down upon his bruised and aching head a^d sears his bloodshot eyes. He raises his hand in mute ap peal to heaven, and at the instant there is a flash, a sharp report not 80 yards away, an angry spat as the leaden mis sile strikes the shelving top of his para pet and goes humming across the gorge, a stifled shriek from Ruth looking fear fully up from below, an Irish oath from Walsh as he whirls about to answer the shot, and Drummond can barely repress a little gasp. “Narrow squeak that, Walsh I That devil has crawled close up on ns. Can you see him?” “Begad, sir, I can see nothing at all but rocks, rocks, rocks. How can a man fight anyway ag’in human beings that crawl like snakes?" Zip! Another shot, close at hand too, and from another unseen foe. The first came from somewhere among the bowl ders down to the southeast, and this second whizzed from across the canyon. A little puff of blue smoke is floating up from among the rocks 50 yards or so to the north of the narrow slit Crouching lower, Drummond calls across to Costigan, posted as the eastern most of the two men on the opposite side: ’ ’ That fellow is nearest you, corporal Can you see nothing of him?" “Nothing, sir; I was looking that way, too, when he fired. Not even the muzzle of his gun showed." This is serious business. If one In dian or two can find it so easy to creep around them, and armed only with their muzzle loading guns send frequent shots that reach the besieged "in re verse, ” what can be hoped when the whole band gathers and every rook on every side shelters a hostile Apache? From the first Drummond has feared that however effective might be these defenses against the open attack of white men, they are ill adapted to pro tect the defenders against the fire of In dians who can climb like squirrels or reno, who goes limping and swearing •otto voce down tho rocky way, is led 100 yards along the canyon where it makes a second bend. Here they can see nearly 150yaids more ahead of them, and here some loose bowlders are hur riedly shoved or rolled to form a rifle crawl or squirm through any chink or crevice like so many snaaee. Another shot 1 Another bullet flattens its'-If on the roca close to his right shoulder and then drops into the dust by his knee. It comes from farther up the cliff—perhaps 800. yards away among those stunted cedars—nut snun- deriugiy close. Costigan and the oth( r men glar.ee anxiously over their shoul ders at the point where their young commander and Walsh are crouching. They are not yet subjected to a fire from tho rear, these others. The lookout, the signal station, as it might be call ed, is the highest point and most ex posed about the position. “For God’s sake, lieutenant,” cries the corporal,"don’t stay there. They’ve got yonr range on two sides anyhow. Come ont of it. Yon and Walsh can slip down as we open fire. Ws’U just let drive in every direction until you are safe below.” Drummond hesitates. Heseesahalf pleading look in Walsh's honest face. The Irishman would willingly tackle the whole tribe in open fight, but what he doesn’t like is the idea of being pot ted like a caged tiger, never knowing whence came the shot that laid him low. Then the lieutenant peers about him. Yes, it is exposed to fire from a point in the cliffs to the west, and there are rocks over there to the north that seem to command it, but if aban doned there will be no way of prevent ing a bold advance on the part of the Apaches np the rugged eastward slope. It would then stand between the de fenders and the assailants, giving to the latter incalculable advantage. Hold it be must for a few minutes at least, until recalling McGnffy, he can set him and one or two others to work pil ing up a rock barricade in front of the cave. Then if driven ont and no longer able to stand the Indians off they can retire into the caves themselves, hide their precious charges in the farthest depths, and then, like Buford at Get tysburg, “fight like the devil” till res cue comes. "No, down with yon, Costigan,” he answers. "Get McGuffy and Fritz; block np tho front of the cave with rocks; move in those Moreno women; carry Sergeant Wing back to the far ther cave—Miss Harvey will show you where. Stand fast the rest of yon. Don't let an Indian close in on ns. ” "Look, lieut’nant," whispers Walsh; "they're coming np down beyant you there. ” And peeping through a narrow slit left in his parapet Drummond can just see bobbing among the bowlders far down toward the willow copse two or three Apache crests—Apache unmis takably, because of the dirty white tur banlike bandages about the matk black locks. At that distance they ad vance with comparative security. It is when they come closer to the defenders that they will be lost to view. Obedient to his orders, Costigan slips out of his shelter and "takes a sneak” for the edge of the cliff. In an instant, from half a dozen points above, below, and on both sides, there come the flash and crack of rifles. The dust is kicked up under his nimble feet, bnt he reaches unharmed the cleft in which some rude steps have been hacked and goes, half sliding, half scraping, down into the cooler depths below. “Mother of Moses!” he groans, “but we’ll never get the lieut’nant out alive. Shnre they're all aronnd him now.” Then bounding down the gorge be finds McGnffy kneeling at the point. "They're coming, Barney,” whispers the boy, all eager and tremulous with excitement, and point ing down between the vertical walls. "Look!” he says. Gazing ahead to the next bend, Cos tigan can see Moreno and his Yankee compadre crouching iiehind their shel ter, their carbines leveled, their atti tude betokening intense excitement and suspense. It is evident the enemy are within view. “I’ll have one shot at ’em, bedad, to pay for the dozen their brother blackguards let drive at me,” mutters Costigan. "Come on, yon; it's but a step.” And, forgetful for the moment of his orders in his eagerness for fight, the Irishman runs down the canyon, leaps the swirling brook just as he reaches the point, at d obedient to the warning hand held out by their bandit ally drops on his knees at tbs bend, McGnffy close at his heels. Off go their hats. Those broad brims would catch an Indian eye even in that gloom. “How many are there coming?" be whispers. Moreno puts bis finger on his lips, then throws out his hand, fonr fingers extended. “One apiece then, be jabers! Now, Little Mac, you’re to take the second from the right—their right, I mean— and don't yon miss him, or I’ll break every bone in your skin." “Hist!” Down they go upon their faces, then, Indianlike, they crawl a few feet far ther where there ia a little ledge. The canyon widens below; the light is stronger there, and bending donble, throwing quick glances at one another, then from sheer force of Indian habit shading their eyes with their brown hands as they peer to the front; exchang ing noiseless signals, creeping like cats from rock to rock, leaping without faintest sound of the mcccasined foot across the bubbling waters, four swar thy scamps are coming stealthily on. Two others are just appearing aronnd the next bend beyond. “Ready, hoys? They’re near enough now. Cover the two leaders! Drop the first two anyhow!” Breathless silence, thumping hearts one instant longer, then the chasm bel lows with the loud reports. The fonr guns are fired almost as one. One half naked wretch leaps high in air and falls, face downward, dead as a nail. Another whirls about, bounds a few yards along the brookside, and then goes splashing into a shallow pool, where be lies writhing. The two farthest down the canyon have slipped back be hind the rocky shoulder. Tne other two, close at hand, have rolled behind the nearest shelter and thence send harmless bullets whizzing overhead. Costigan lets drive a wild Irish yell of triumph and delight. "Now, then, run for it, boy. Well done, yon two, if ye are blackguards, ” he calls to Moreno and bis mate. "They won't disturb ye again for 10 minutes anyhow. Sold your post, though. Mil we call yon back. We’re going to block the month of the cave.” Twenty minute* later, and working like beavers Costigan and his two men have lagged rocks, logs, bales of blank ets, everything, anything that can stop s bullet, and the entrance to the cave la being stontly barricaded. Patter- aon, who was sorely exposed at his post and ordered down by Lieutenant Drum mond, is aiding in the work. Wing- has been carefully home into the back cave, whither, too, the wailing, quak ing Moreno women are herded and bid den to hold their Deace. There, too. Fanny and Kntfl, suenr.pnltld perhaps, bnt making no moan, are now kneeling by their patient. Coetignn runs in with two buckets he has filled with water and "Little Maq” follows with half a dozen dripping canteens. Mure rocks are being lifted on the barricade, con venient apertures being left through which to fire, and Costigan, feverishly eager, is making every exertion, for any minute may be the last with those plucky fellows battling there aloft. The air rings with the shots of the en circling Apaches and with the loud re port of the cavalry carbine answering the hidden foe. Twice has Costigan implored the lieutenant to come down anyhow, so long as his crippled condi tion prevents his firing a gnn,but Drum mond pokes his bandaged head one in stant over the edge to shout something to the effect that he is “on deck” until he has seen the last man down, and Cos tigan knows it is useless to argue. At last the barricade is ready. Walsh, peering grimly aronnd, just the top of his head showing over the parapet, begs for one shot and shouts his Hibernian challenge to the Apacbe nation to come forth and show itself. Drummond picks np the glasses for one final look down the desert and across the valley in search of friends who surely should be coming, cautiously places the “bin ocular” on the inner edge of the top of bis shelving rock, then raises his head to the level. “ Fur the love o’ God, lieut’nant,don't sit so high up!” implores Walsh. “They’re sure to spot— Oh, Christ 1" And down goes the poor faithful fel low, the blood welling from a deep gash along the temple. He lies sense less at his commander's feet. For a moment the air seems alive with humming missiles and shrill with yells from on every side. In their triumph Pur Ood’t take, come ipilck, sir/” three or four savage foes have leaped np from lx hind their sheltering rocks, and one of them pays the penalty—a vengeful carbine from across the can yon stretches the lithe, slender, dusky form lifeless among the rocks with the dirty white of his breech clont turning crimson in the noonday glare. Up from the cave, catlike, Patterson and "Little Mac” come climbing the nar row trail. Between them they drag Walsh’s senseless body to the edge, and then, somehow, despite hissing, spatter ing lead, they bear him safely down and carry him within the cave. “Now call in Moreno and help his partner back!” shouts Drummond, and Costigan goes at speed to carry out the order. A few minntes of intense ex citement and suspense, then Moreno is seen limping around the point. Behind him Costigan ia slowly helping their brigand friend. A few more shota come singing overhead. A moment more and the watchful Indians will come charging up the now unguarded canyon and crown both banks. "Now, lads, give ’em two or three shots apiece to make them hng their cover. Then down for the caves, every man of you, ’ ’ is the order. For a moment the Indian fire is si lenced in the rapid fnsillade that fol lows. Bharp and quick the carbines are barking their challenge, and whenever a puff of powder smoke has marked the probable lurking place of an Apache, thither hiss the searching bullets warn ing him to keep down. Then Costigan comes climbing to the lookout. “Let us help you, lient’nant. Now’s yonr time, sir, while they’re firing.” Bnt Drnmmond shakes his head. He wants to be the last man down. "Don’t hang on here, sir. Come now. Sure the others can get down from where they are easy enough, but yon can’t except when they 're firi ng. Please come, sir,” and Costigan in his eager ness scrambles to the lieutenant’s side and lays a broad, red hand on his shonl- der. The men have fired more than the designated number of shots and now are looking anxiously toward their commander. They do not wish to move until he does. “Give ’em another whack all aronnd, fellers,” shonts Costigan, "while 1 help the lient’nant down;” and so, with a langh, Drnmmond gives it np, and aft er one last wistful glance out over the desert, tnma to pick np the binocular, when it ia struck, smashed, and sent clattering down into the canyon by a shot fired not 30 yards away. "Fnr God's sake, come qnick, sirt” gasps Costigan. Then, desperate at his loved young leader's delay, the Irish man throws a brawny arm ahont him and fairly drags him to the end of the steep. Then down they go, Costigan leading and holding np one hand to sus tain Drnmmond in case of accident. Down, hand under hand, to the accom paniment of cracking rifles and an swering carbines, while every other sec ond the bnllets come “spat” upon the rocky sides, close and closer, until, al most breathless, Costigan reaches the solid bottom of the gorge and swings Drummond to his feet beside him. See ing their leader safely down, the men, with one defiant shot and cheer, scurry to the edge of the canyon and come slipping and sliding to join their com rades. At the month of the cave Cos tigan strives to push Drummond in through the narrow aperture left for their admission, but miscalculates his commander's idea of the proprieties. Like gallant Craven at Mobile Bay, Drnmmond will seek no safety until his men are cared for. “After yon, pilot,” the chivalric sailor’s last word as the green waters engulfed his sinking ship, finds its cavalry echo in Drummond’s “After yon,corporal,” in this faraway canyon in desert Arizona. The men have scrambled through the gap, then Costigan, with reluctant backward glance, is hnrried in just as a flash of flame and smoke leaps downward from the croet and the foremost A cache sends a hurried, ill aiipeU shot at Uie igsi man left. Before anotner snot can roi- low, Drnmmond'a arm is seized by mus cular hands, and he is drugged within tho gap. Two or three huge stones are rolled into place, and in an instant through the ragged loopholes the black muzzles of half a dozen carbines are thrusting, and Costigan shouts exnlt- ingly, ‘‘Now, you black legged black guards, come on if yo dare!" But no Apacho is fool enough to at tack a strong position. Keeping well under cover, the Indians soon line the crest and begin sending down a rain of better aimed bnllets at the loopholes, and every minute the flattened lead comes zipping through. One of fheso fearful missiles tears its way through Costigan'a sleeve, and striking poor old Moreno in tho groin stretches him groaning upon tho floor. A glance shows that the wound is mortal, and despite his crimes the men who bear him, moaning, in to the farther cave are moved to sudden sympathy as his hapless wife and child prostrate them selves beside his rocky bier. Drum mond can afford to lose no more and orders the lower half of each hole to be stopped with blankets, blouses,shirts, anything that will block a shot, and then for an hoar the fire of the beeiegeis is harmless, and no longer can the be sieged catch even an occasional glimpse of them. At noon their fire has ceased entirely, and even when breathing a sigh of relief the men look into one anoth er’s faces questioningly. How long can this last ? How hot, how close the air in the cave is growing! Drummond has gone for a moment into the inner chamber, whore Moreno is now breathing his last, to inquire for Wing and to sj>eak a word of cheer to his fair and devoted nurses. N°l one murmur of complaint or dread has fall en from their lips, though they know their father to have ridden on perilous qnest and into possible ambush; though they know their brother to be lying at the ruined ranch, perhaps seriously wounded; though their ow.i fate may be capture, with indescribull i ring, shame and death. Funny Harv ey lias behaved like a heroine, as the two troop ers remarked, and Ruth has done her best to follow her sister’s lead. Yet they, too, now realize how close and stifling tho heavy atmosphere is grow ing. Is it to be the black hole of Calcutta over again ? Even as he takes her hand in his Drummond reads the dread in Ruth's tearless face. Even as he holds it and whispers words of hope and com fort there is a heavy, continuous, crash ing sound at the mouth of the cave, just in front of the rock barricade, and be springs back to learn tho cause. “They're heaving down logs and brushwood, sir,” whisuers Costigan. “They mean to roast us out if they can’t do anything else.” More thunder and crash; more heap ing np of resinous logs from the cliffs above them. Borne of the men beg to be allowed to push out and die fighting, but Drummond sternly refuses. “At the worst,” he says, “we can retire in to the back cave; we have abundant water there. The air will last several hours yet, and I tell you help will come—must come, before the day is much older.” Two o’clock. Hissing flames and scorching heat block the cavern en trance. The rocky barrier grows hotter and hotter; the air within denser and more stifling. Tho water in the can teens and pails is no longer cool. It is hardly even cooling. The few men who remain with Drummond in the front of the cave are lying full length npon the floor. The pain in Drum mond’s battered head has become in tense. It is almost maddening. Wing is tnoaning and unconscious. Walsh is incoherent and raving. All are panting and well nigh exhausted. The front of the cave is like an oven. Overcome by the heat, one or two of the men are edging toward the inner cave, bnt Drummond orders them back. To the very last the lives of those fair girls must be protected and cherished. In silence, almost in desperation, the men obey and lie down again, face down ward, their heads at the rear wall of the cave. And then Costigan comes crawling to the lieutenant’s side: “Have you heard any more logs thrown down lately, sir?” “No, corporal. I have heard noth ing." “They were yellin and shootin out there in the gnlch half an hour ago. Have ye heard no more of it, sir?" "No; no sound bnt the flames." "Glorj’he to God, thin! D’ye know wat hit manes, sir?” “I know what I hope," is Drum mond’s faint answer. "Our fellows are close at hand, for the Indians are clear ing out.” "Close at hand, Is it?” cries Costi gan, in wild excitement, leaping to his feet. “Listen, sir! Listen, all of yes! D’ye hear that?—and that? And there now! Oh, Holy Mother of God! isn’t that music? Thim’s the trumpets of K throop!" Aye. Out along tho crests of the winding canyon the rifles are ringing again. The cheers of troopers, bound ing like goats np the rocky sides, are answered by clatter of hoof and snort of excited steeds in the rocky depths below. “Here we are, lads! Dis- raount! Lively now!” a well known voice is ordering, and Costigan fairly screams in ecstasy of joy, “Tear away the Are, captain, an then we’ll heave over the rocks. ’’ Stalwart forms, brawny arms, are already at the work. The wagon tongues are prying under the heavy, hissing, sputtering logs. Daring hands scatter the embers. Buckets of water are dashed over the live coals. “Up wid ye now, boys!” shonts Costigan. “Heave over thim rocks!” Down with a crash goes the barricade. A cloud of steam rushes into the cave. A dozen sturdy troopers come leaping, in, lifting A dozen sturdy trooper* come leaping tit. from the ground the hclplesg and boar- ing them to the blessed coolness or tne outer air, and tho last thing Jim Drnm mond sees -ere ho swoons away—is the pale, senseless face of little Rnth close to his at the water’s brink; her father, with Fanny clinging about his neck, kneeling by her side, his eyes uplifted in thanks to the God who even throngh snch peril and distress has restored his loved ones, unharmed, unstained, to his rejoicing heart. CHAPTER XII. It is a sultry day, early in July, and the sun is going westward through a fleet of white, wind driven clouds that send a host of deep shadows sweeping and chasing over tho wide prairie. Northward tho view is limited by a low rango of blnffs, destitute of tree or foliage, but covered thickly with tho summer growtli of bunch grass. South ward, three miles away at least, though it seems much less, a similar range, pierced here and there with deep ra vines, frames the picture on that side. Midway between tho two ridges and fringed with clumps of cottonwood and willow, a languid stream flows silently eastward and is lost with the valley in tho dim distance. Out to the west iu long,gradual curve tho southward range veers around. and spans the horizon. Midway across this monotone of land scape, cutting tho stream at right an gles, a hard prairie road comes twist ing and turning out of one of the south ern ravines, and after a long, gradual dip to the ford among the cottonwoods emerges from their leafy shade and goes winding away until lost among tho “breaks” to tho north. It is one of tho routes to the Black Hills of Dakota —tho wagon road from the Union Pa cific at Sidney by way of old Fort Rob inson, Neb., where a big garrison of some 14 companies of cavalry and in fantry keep watch and ward over the Sioux nation, which, one year previous, was in the midst of tho maddest, most successful war it ever waged against the white man. That was the centen nial year—1876. This is another event ful yearfoi the cavalry—1877; for be fore the clcee of the summer even the troops so far to the southeast are destined to be summoned to the ebase and capture of wary old Chief Joseph—the greatest Indian general ever reared upon the Pacific slope— and even now, on this July day, hero are cavalrymen at their accustomed task, and though it is five years since we saw them under the heat and glare of the Arizona sun there are familiar faces among these that greet us. All along under tho cottonwoods be low tho crossing the bivouac extends. Long before sunrise these hardy fellows were iu saddle, and in long column have come marching down from the north—fonr strong troops—a typical battalion of regular cavalry as they looked and rode in those stirring days that brought about the snbjngation of tho Sioux. Out on the prairie the four herds of the four different troops are quietly grazing, each herd watched by its trio of alert, thongh often apparent ly dozing, guards. One troop is made up entirely of black horses, another of sorrels—two are of bays. Another herd is grazing close to the stream— the mules of the wagon train—and the white tops of these cumbrous vehicles are dotting the left hank of the winding water for 200 or 800 yards. Cook fires are smoldering in little pits dug in the yielding soil, but the cooking is over for the present. The men have had their substantial dinner and are now smoking or sleeping or chatting in groups in the shade—all but a squad of a dozen, commanded by a grizzled veteran on whose worn blouse the chev rons of a first sergeant are stitched. Booted and spm red, with carbines slung and saddles packed, these sun tanned fellows are standing or sitting at ease, holding the reins of their sleepy charg ers and waiting apparently for the pas sengers who are to start In the stout built Concord drawn by four sleek, strong looking mules, now standing in the shade near tho canvas homestead of the commanding officer. Pr<‘sently two soldiers following a young man in civilian dress come for ward lagging a little green painted iron safe, and this, with a swing and a thud, they deposit in the wagon. “You’ve seen that before, sergeant,” langhs the civilian. “I have, b 'gad, an when it had a heap moie gr en inside an less outside than it has now. Faith, I never ex pected to see it again, nor the paymaster either. We were both bored through an throngh. 'Twas onr good habits that saved ns. Sure yonr predecessor was a game fighter, Mr. Barnes, if he was a tenderfoot.” [TO BB CONTINUED.] Uard to Diatlngulih. Auntie—Well, did Uncle George tell you an interesting story? Little Niece (from Boston)—Yes, anntie, it was full of delightful won ders, bnt some visitors called, snd I hadn't time to Inquire whether it was a fairy tale or a theosophies! hypothesis. —Good News. Dr. Boyd, at one time snrgeon on the City of Rome, says in The Lancet, that administrations of cholorbrom and at tention to diet will insure the passenger immunity from seasickness. EAGLE BRAND THE BEST ROOFING Is unequalled for house, barn, fact ory or out buildings, and costs half the price of shingles, tin or iron. It is ready for use and easily applied by anyone. RUBBER PAINT costs on ly 60 cents per gallon in ban el lots, or $1.50 for 5 gallon tabs. Color dark red. Will stop leaks in tin or iron roofs that will last for years. Try it. Send stamp for samples and particu lars. Excelsior Paint and Roofing Co., 155 DUANE ST., NEW YORK, N. Y. Dec 28—2m. XTARTSVILLE RAILROAD. ’**’ In effect Dec 8.1893. DAILY MIXED TRAIN Leave Hartsville 6.00 a m Jovann 6.20 a m Floyd’s 6.85 a m Arrive Darlington 7.20 a m Leave Darlington 6.30 p m Floyd’s 8.00 p in Jovann 8.20 pm Arrrive Hartsville 8.40 p m J. F. DIVINE, Gen. Supt. CHARLESTON. SUMTER AND ^ NORTHERN RAILROAD CHARLES E. KIMBALL Receiver In Effect Jan. 16, 1894 NORTH. SOUTH. 1 2 AM. P.M. Lv 7.30 Charleston 8.45 Ar 8.40 Pregnall’s 7.27 10.47 Sumter 5.27 12.05 Darlington 4.12 12 56 Benuettsville 8.21 1.30 Gibson 2.57 1.47 Hamlet 2.80 Ar 6.00 Raleigh 10.15 Lt P.M. P.M. No. 1 eonnneets with Seaboard Air Line at Hamlet for Raleigh Wilmington, Charlotte, Shel by, Routherfordton ; and at Charlotte with R. & D. Vestibule Limited for Washington and New York. Passen gers can take sleepers at Charlotte at 8 :8!l p. m. No. 2 passengers by this train have through Sleepers. New York to Char lotte, connects with S. A. L. at Ham let from Charlotte, Raleigh and North, and from Wilmington, con nects with 8.C. Ry. at Pregnalls for liarleston, Columbia, Angugta and the West. Dinner at Hamlet. C. MILLARD, Superintendent & D. and C. & 8. RAILROADS. In effect Dec 3, 1893. Through Passenger Train. Leave Wadesboro 4.30 a m Bennett’s 4.51am Morven’s 5.04 a m McFarland 5 17 a m Cheraw 6.00 am Cash's 6.12 am Society Hill 6.26 a m Dove’s 6.44 a m Floyd’s 6.49 a in Darlington 7.00 a m Palmetto 7.11 a m Arrive Florence 7.25 a m Leave Florence 7.15 p m Palmetto 7.28 p m Darlington 7.38 p m Floyd’s 7.50 p in Dove’s 7 55 p m Society Hill 8 13 p m Cash’s 8 27 p m Cheraw 8.50 p m McFarland 9.13 pm Morven’s 9,39 p m Bennett’s 9.54 p m Arrive Wadesboro 10.15 pm Freight Train. Leave Florence 7.30 a in Darlington 8.40 am Arrive Cheiaw 11.20 a m Leave Cheraw 1.00 p m Darlington 4.00 p m Arrive Florence 5.00 p m A. F. RAVENEL, President. N ORTHEASTERN RAILROAD. In effect Jan. 11, 1894. SOUTH BOUND. No. 61 Leave Florence 7.45 a m Kingstree Lanes Arrive Charleston No. 35. Leave Florence Lanes Arrive Charleston No. 23. lieave Florence Kingstree I .a lies Arrive Charleston No. 53. Leave Lanes Arrive Charleston Train on C. & D. R. R. connects at Florence with No. 61 Train. NORTH BOUND. No. 78. Leave Charleston 8.35 a m Lanes 5.30 am Kingstree 5.52 a m Arrive Florence 7.10 a m No. 60 Leave Charleston 5.00 p m Lanes 7.05 p.m Kingstree 7.25 p m Arrive Florence 8.50 p m No. 14. Leave Charleston 8.30 p m Lanes 5.29 p tu Kingstree 5.45 p in Arrive Florence 6.45 p m No. 52. Leave Charleston 7.00 a in Arrive Lanes 8.35 a m No. 52 runs through to Columbia via Central R. R. of S. C. No. 78 runs solid to Wilming ton, N. C., making close connection with W. & W. R. R. for all points North. Train No. 14 runs via Wilson and Fayetteville—Short Line—and makes close connection for all points North. J. F. DIVINE, Gen. Supt. IV ILMINGTON, COLUMBIA & AUGUSTA RALROAD. In effect Dec. 3, 1893. SOUTH BOUND. No. 55. Leave Wilmington 3.20 p m Marion 6.11 p m Arrive Florence 6.50 p m No. 50. Leave Florence 7.10 p m Sumter 8.28 p m Arrive Columbia 10.00 p m No. 58. Leave Florence 7.45 a m Arrive Sumter 9 20 a m No. 52. Leave Sumter 9.53 a m Arrive Columbia 11.05 a m No. 52 runs through from Charles ton via Central Railroad; leaving Lanes 8-40 a m, Manning 9 18 a m. NORTH BOUND. Leave Columbia Sumter Arrive Florence Leave Florence Marion Arrive Wilmington Leave Columbia Arrive Sumter A Leave Columbia-.. Sumter Arrive Florence.... No. 51. 4.30 a m 5.57 a m 7.15 a m No. 56. . 7.40 a m . 8.23 a m .11.10 am No. 53. 4.20 pm 5.35 p m No. 59. .. 5.45 p m .. 6.55 p m No. 53 runs tlnuugu to charleston via central Railroad, arriving Man ning 6.15 p m. Lanes 7.00 p m, charleston8.45 pm. Trains on Manchester and Augusta B. R\ leave Sumter daily except Sun day, 10.50 a. m., arrive Rimini 11;59 a. m. Returning leave Rimini LOO p. m.. arrive Sumter 2:10 p. m. Trains on Wilmington, Chadbonrn and Conwav Railroad leave Chad- bourn at 10.10 a m, arrive at Conway 12.30 p m, returningleave Conway at 2:00 p. m.. arrive Chadbonrn 4:50 p. m. Leave Chadbonrn 7.00 a m and 5.15 p m, arrive at Hub 7.45 am and 6.00 p m. Returning leave Hub 8.15 a m and 6.80 p m, arrive at Chadboum 9.00 a m and 7.15 p m. Dally except Sunday. JOHN F, DIVINE, Gea’l Supt.