Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 3 August 1894 — Page 6

By OHABLES B. LEWIS (M. QUAD).

[Copyright, 1882, by American Press Association.)

CHAPTER XXVL

The ocean has its thrilling mysteries anil awful tragedies, and the plains and Ipralries have theirs as well. I One of the outlaws walked off in the {darkness to stand 6entry for the next Wo hours, and the other four men laid £own to sleep again, each taking his place as before. In two minutes the camp was as silent as the grave, and the epecter of murder which came out of 'the gloom and hovered over the recumibent forms was seen by no mortal eye.

At the end of five minutes a wolf's long drawn, faraway howl was heard, and a ehiver passed over the listening sentinel as the lonesome sounds reached his ears. There was a warning in that howl—a menace, a wail—which whispered of tragedy. *"\*v

Taylor heard it as well, and he grew' pale and held his breath. He had braced himself to carry out a part, but he was fearful that his nerve might give way before the end was reached.

Ten minutes passed—twelve—fifteentwenty. It was time the powerful poison should begin to act.

Taylor was watching and listening. One of the men moved and groaned. "Say! Are any of you awake?" called Taylor as he sat up. "I've got terrible pains, and I can't keep still any longer." "So have 1," replied one of the men as he sat up.

Three minutes later the others were aroused, groaning and cursing, and the sentinel came staggering in to gasp out: "Do something for me or I'm a dead man!"

From the way he acted one would have thought Taylor the worst off of all. He groaned, gasped, writhed, twisted, but he had company. The outlaws rolled about on the earth like wounded dogs, and, curiously enough, none of them suspected the cause of their illness. The jug was brought and each drank again, hoping the fiery whisky would ease the pains of what they believed to be colic. It was only after one of the men had fallen in spasms, foaming at the mouth and tearing at the earth \yith his fingers, that Bob suddenly shouted: ~**»"By heavens, men! but I believe we have "all been poisoned." "How—who by?" shrieked one of his companions. "By—by this infernal cur, if anybody, and Fll have his lifel"

Bob pointed at Taylor, who was apparently in convulsions, and then stooped for one of the rifles. As he did

he fell forward upon the earth with a terrible curse, and Taylor sprang up and ran away into the darkness. He did not dare go far, and yet it was horrible for him to linger within hearing.

Strong men who die by poison die hard. It is an awful end. The crouching, hiding, trembling murderer heard them rise and stagger and fall they raved and wept they prayed and cursed in their awful agonies they attacked each other and struggled in death. The night bird was driven away by the cries and shrieks, and the wolf who sat listening and wondering was finally forced to flight by the wails and curses.

The Big Cheyenne, winding its way through prairie and plain, has seen the sun rise on many scenes of horror, but on none worse than that portrayed in the camp of the outlaws. Four men lay dead and stiff beside the little heap of ashes and blackened brands marking the site of the campfire. Some lay on their backs, their open eyes gazing into the blue vaults of heaven others were face down, their limbs drawn up and their fingers dug into the soil.

Taylor leaned against a tree for support. And as the first beam of the golden eun touched the dead, Taylor crept down to gaze upon his work. He came trembling and afraid. His face was ghastly pale, his teeth clicked together and his limbs could hardly support him as he walked. His own brother could not have identified him, so great was the facial change. He did not want to approach—he dreaded the sight which would meet his gaze, but some mysteriou power forced him along. "Revenge is mine and I will repay, saith the Lord."

The fate which the outlaws meted out to the poor gold seekers had recoiled on their own heaas, out mere was yet another to be punished. Taylor leaned against a tree for support and surveyed the bodies lying before him. He had planned this. There was the wagonthere was the gold—there the horses. He had but to drag the corpses to the bank of the stream and roll them in, and then harness up and move off. The Big Cheyenne would not yield up the corpses for days, and if found who could tell how they died or discover their identity? The route was clear of Indians, and he could tell a plausible story to account for his possession of so much treasure. He had invented a story

and gone over it in detail fifty times. Cornel All are dead! Dispose of the corpses. The treasure is yours.

But the man clung to the tree in a dazed sort of a way. A look of terror crept into his eyes, never to leave them again, and he moaned in distress as he looked over the camp. The horses whinnied for water and a change to new feeding ground, but he heeded them not.

The sun climbed higher and higher, but he did not move. A full hour had passed when he suddenly broke forth in a mocking laugh, and this seemed to give him physical strength. He threw up his hands, shouted meaningless words, and turned and fled as if pursued by demons. Half a mile away he hid beneath the bushes, but not for long. Terror roused him up, and he faced the sun and dashed away over the earth as men fly for their lives.

•••'.

Night has come again on the great expanse. A dozen miles to the east of the spot where the dead still lie in their stiffness the figure of a man rises from the earth as the dews of heaven falL It is hard to tell whether it is the face of a man or some wild beast. The eyes are sunken, the lips drawn, the cheeks like those of one who has hungered for a week. He peers this way and that—he skulks and crouches—he indulges in strange and mysterious gestures. "All dead! All dead! The gold is mine—ha! ha! ha!" "Revenge is mine and I will repay, 6aith the Lord."

It is Taylor, and he is a raving lunatic—a madman whose very soul is being shriveled by the awful fire within. Let us leave him to God, himself and the darkness. When the sun comes up again its rays will not soften the pallor of another dead face. There are gaunt, fierce wolves here—great wild eyed beasts who are following at his heels and urging each other to make the first attack.

CHAPTER XXVH.

The vultures numbered hundreds. It was not a coincidence that Captain Burton's party, when ready to leave the valley, should head in the same direction as that pursued by the outlaws. It was simply the same line of reasoning. THe influx of gold siekers would naturually mass the Indians on the western border to oppose them, and it was reasoned that the route to Fort Sully would be unopposed. In going out of the valley, however, each party took a different route, and it was not until the gold seekers arrived at the forts of the Cheyenne and the soldiers' encampment that they knew the outlaws had passed on before and only two days ahead. "I had rather have th«n ahead than behind," said the captain when he heard the news. "If they can get through we ought to be able to." "I don't like it," answered Joe with a shake of the head. "They were a desperate lot before Taylor joined them, and you know how he feels toward us. I believe they have come this way to ambush us, and from this on we can't keep our eyes open too wide." "That's true," added Harkins. "Taylor knew what we were after, and through him all the others know. 1 think they played spy on us and discovered that we had struck the treasure. They dared not attack us in the valley, as we would be on our guard, but 1 shall be greatly disappointed if they do not show their hands before our second day down Hie n?ei is oyer."

Tlie party remained in camp with the soldiers only one night, and as in the case of the outlaws the contents of the wagons were not suspected. They were looked upon as one of the hundred unsuccessful expeditions already returning disgusted from the diggings. They were given three cheers by the soldiers as they moved out, and camp had been placed only a few miles behind when a vigilant outlook was maintained for the outlaws. Three times during the day, when the party was dbliged to pass locations where a foe could lie in ambush, scouts were sent ahead to make sure that no trap had been set for them. Their pace was not so rapid as that of the outlaws, and it was noon of the second day before they approached the scene of the tragedy brought about by Taylor.

While yet two or three miles away the scout, who was riding in advance, halted and waited for the others to come up. "What is it?" asked tlie captain as all had closed up. "Look!"

Hovering over the grove straight ahead was a cloud of buzzards. What their presence signified every man knew. "They are low down," whispered the captain. "Which means death," replied Joe. "While they are waiting for a wounded man or horse to die they sail high." "The other party has been attacked and wiped out, I fear." "Can't be otherwise. There's certain to be a sight there which the women should not be permitted to gaze upon. Some of us had best ride ahead and see what can be done."

Joe, Harkins and a third man were dispatched on the errand, and they found it one to try their nerves. When they had approached close enough to get a view of the camp they knew it to be the camp of the outlaws, for there were the horses and wagon. The vultures numbered hundreds, and while apart of them were running about on the ground, others sailed slowly about in short circles and hesitated to alight. & "Look at the horses!" exclaimed Joe.

The animals had been staked out on

ground rurnismng scam pasturage at best For three days they had had neither food nor water, and as Joe spoke they were making tremendous efforts to break their lariats or pull the iron pins from the ground. "There are dead men 'there!" whispered Harkins, with pale face, "but the buzzards are afraid of the horses."

The trio moved forward. They were greeted %vith whinnies of welcome from the suffering horses, but for two or three minutes they had eyes only for the bodies of the dead. But for the clothing on them it would have been hard to identify them as human beings. "There are only four, and neither of them is Taylor," said Joe as he rode around the bodies. "There are no arrows here, no empty shells, no signs of a fight with the Indians. Let us ride through the grove and see if we can find the key to this mystery."

They scattered and hunted for further evidence, but they found none. Taylor, living or dead, could not be traced. "Here's his rifle," said Harkins as he dismounted and picked up a gun lying by itself on the ground. "And it has not been discharged," added Joe as he inspected it. "These dead men are his work, and the fact that he did not drive away with the team proves that something happened him. Let us relieve the horses and then get these horrible objects out of sight."

When the remainder of the party came up not an evidence of the tragedy existed, but the story told them by those who had drawn tlie corpses to the river and floated them off was shocking enough without the presence of the dead. The horses had been reduced to skeletons, and it was a full hour before their thirst was sufficiently satisfied to permit them to enjoy the fresh green grass at the other side of the grove.

The next surprise came when one of the men investigated the contents of the outlaws' wagon and found the treasure which had been responsible for so many crimes. While it was known that the men were hunting for the cave of gold, the idea that they had found it had not been entertained. Whom did it belong to? The wreckage of the sea belongs to |he finder. So with the wreckage of the plains.

The wagons were moved to the other side of the grove and the gold hunters went into camp. If the newly added treasure was to be taken away it must be drawn by the horses which had hauled it thus far and were now hardly able to keep their feet. It would take a week to recruit them for the long pull to the fort. The camp was therefore made as comfortable as possible, the treasure examined piece by piece and its value estimated, and when this task had been accomplished even the sweet, sad face of the orphaned Lizzie carried a smile.

I have written much of adventure and very little of love. Some of my readers may have been disappointed on that score. There is love among the castaways floating on a raft in m£l6ceah. There is love beneath the white topped wagon of the immigrant slowly trailing across plain and prairie—in the gold hunters' camp, surrounded by perils and alarms. But it is a silent love, born of heroism, self sacrifice and true merit, and it is not demonstrative. It waits for safety and civilization to betray itself.

A moutli after Joe and his companions rode into that death camp I met most of them in Denver. They had come safely through all perils, their treasure had reached the mint to be valued and paid for in coin gold, and there had been one marriage—Joe and Bess. A month later there was to be another equally satisfactory to all parties— Haruins and Lizzie. From their own lips I learned the story and have given it to you. If there was not enough love in it to satisfy the sentimentalists, blame them for concealing the fact from your most obedient servant,

THE END.

drowning zueiiiory.

Few people possessed the gift of memory in a higher degree than Mr. Browning. I am reminded of this by what 1 have been recently told by his friend and mine, Mrs. Le Poer Wynne. She tells me that in company with Mr. Browning and .Mr. Cotter Morison they were one day discussing Byron, of whom Mr. Browning was an intense admirer. He spoke of Byron's extraordinary powers of satire, and repeated at considerable length a portion of tlie "Vision of Judgment," beginning with the words, "St. Peter stood at the celestial gate." When he finished, Mr. Browning said, "I have not repeated those lines for forty years, but they are graven on my memory." Then he burst out with the remark, "Byron was one of the most wonderful men ever created," and turning to Mrs. Wynne he said, pressing her arm in the way he had when much interested, "To think of all this coming to an end at thirty-seven!"

Mr. Cotter Morison agreed that as a satirist Byron was unrivaled, but threw out the query, "Is he a great poet?" Mr. Browning for answer recited with intense feeling those well known lines, 'Tis well that 1 should be unmoved," never faltering at a word. Mrs. Wynne tells me that he asked her if she remembered the dedication to "Don Juan," and proceeded to quote from it at some length.—Temple Bar.

Motherhood.

Sho sits and dreams no more. The weary waiting time is.passed, The night's dark pain is o'er, And with the morn comes peace— Peace, perfect, tranquil, sweetSuch as oan never come To those who have not sought Far down in infinite's wide dark The tiny quivering life that blindly waits Seeking admission at life's mystic gate. Who will not cease its stirring or be still Till the broad light of a new world Shines in its wondering eyes. Then all the ecstasy of hope fulfilled— The joy, the rapture of creation's dawn— Is waked by that one feeble cry With which a soul bids farewell to the past That holds its secret darkly to the last And wins its way to hearts that hear. O blest maternity, O motherhood, The night's dark shades are well forgot In this new morn of lovel —Mrs. H. X. Schuman.

CHAPTER I.

A strange thing happened at the did fort during the still watches of the night. Even now, at 9 in the morning, no one seemed to bo in possession of the exact circumstances. Tlie officer of the day was engaged in an investigation, and all that appeared to be generally known was the bald statement that the sentry on No. 5 had fired at somebody or other about half after 3 that he had fired by order of the officer of the day, Who was on his post at the time, and that now he flatly refused to talk about tlie matter.

Garrison curiosity, it is perhaps needless to say, was rather stimulated than lulled by this announcement. An unusual number of officers were chatting about headquarters when Colonel Maynard came over to his office. Several ladies, too, who had hitherto shown but languid interest in the morning music of the band, had taken the trouble to stroll down to the old quadrangle, ostensibly to see guard mounting. Mrs. Maynard was almost always on her piazza at this time, and her lovely daughter was almost sure to be at the gate with two or three young fellows lounging about her. This morning, however, not a soul appeared in front of the colonel's quarters.

Guard mounting at the fort was not held until 9 o'clock, contrary to the somewhat general custom at other posts in our scattered army. Colonel Maynard had ideas of his own upon the subject, and it was his theory that everything worked more smoothly if he had finished a leisurely breakfast before beginning office work of aftv kind, and neither the colonel nor his family cared to breakfast before 8 o'clock. In view of the fact that Mrs. Maynard had borne that name but a very short time, and that her knowledge of army life dated only from the month of May, the garrison was disposed to consider her entitled to much latitude of choice in such matters, even while it did say that she was old enough to be above bridelike sentiment. The women folk at the fort were of opinion that Mrs. Jdaynard was 60. It must be conceded that she was over 40 also that this was her second entry into the bonds of matrimony.

That no one should now appear on the colonel's piazza was obviously a disappointment to several people. In some way or other most of the breakfast tables at the post had been enlivened by accounts of the mysterious shooting. The soldiers going the rounds with the 'police cart,'' the butcher and grocer and baker from town, the old milk woman with her glistening cans, had all served as newsmongers from kitchen to kitchen, and the stdry thai came in with the coffee to the lady of the house had lost nothing in bulk or bravery. The groups of officers chatting and smoking in front of headquarters gained accessions every moment, while the ladies seemed more absorbed in chat and confidences than in the sweet music of the band.

What fairly exasperated some men was the fact that the old officer of the day was not out on the parade where he belonged. Only the new incumbent was standing there in statuesque pose as the band trooped along the line, and the fact that the colonel had sent out word that the ceremony would proceed without Captain Chester only served to add fuel to the flame of popular conjecture. It was known that the colonel was holding a consultation with closed doors with the old officer of the day, and never before since he came to the regiment had the colonel been known to look so pale and strange as when he glanced out for just one moment and called his orderly. The soldier sprang up, saluted, received his message, and, with every eye following him, sped off toward the old stone guardhouse. In three minutes he was on his way back, accompanied by a corporal and private of the guard in full dress uniform. "That's Leary, the man who fired the shot," said Capta+n Wilton to his senior lieutenant, who stood by his side. "Belongs to company, doesn't he?" queried the subaltern. "Seems to me I have heard Captain Armitage say he was one of his best men.'' "Yes. He's been in the regiment as long as I can remember. What on earth can the colonel want him for? Near as I can learn, he only fired by Chester's order.'' "And neither of them knows what he fired at."

It was perhaps 10 minutes before Private Leary came forth from the doorway of the colonel's office, nodded to the corporal, and raising their white gloved hands in salute to the group of officers the two men tossed their rifles to the right shoulder and strode back to the guard.

Another moment, and the colonel himself opened his door and appeared in the hallway. He stopped abruptly, turned back and spoke a few words in low tone, then hurried through the groups at the entrance, looking at no man, avoiding their glances and giving faint and impatient return to the soldierly salutations that greeted him. The sweat was beaded on his forehead, his lips were white and his face full of a trouble and dismay no man had ever seen there before. He spoke to no one, but walked rapidly homeward, entered and closed the gate and door behind him.

For a moment there was silence in the group. Few men in the service were better loved and honored than the

veteran soldier who commanded the th infantry, and it was with genuine concern that his officers saw him

deeply and painfully affected, for affected he certainly was. Never before had his cheery voice denied them a cordial "Good morning, gentlemen." Never before had his blue eyes flinched. He

had been their comrade and commander in years of frontier service, and his bachelor home had been the rendezvous of all genial spirits when in garrison. They had missed him sorely when he went abroad on long leave the previous year and ^ere almost indignant when they received the news that he had met his fate in Italy and would return married. "She" was the widow of a wealthy New Yorker who had been dead some three years only, and though over 40 did not look her years to masculine eyes when she reached the fort in May.

After knowing her a week the garrison had decided to a man that the colonel had done wisely. Mrs. Maynard was charming, courteous, handsome and accomplished. Only among the women were there still a few who resented their colonel's capture, and some of these, oblivious of the fact that they had tempted him with relations of their own, were sententious and severe in their condemnation of second marriage, for the colonel, too, was indulging in a second experiment. Of his first only one man in the regiment besides the commander could tell anything, and he, to the just indignation of almost everybody, would not discuss the subject. It waB rumored that in the old days when Maynard was senior captain and Chester junior subaltern in their former reciment the two had very little in common. It was known that the first Mrs. Maynard, while still young and beautiful, had died abroad. It was hinted that the resignation of a dashing lieutenant of the regiment, which was synchronous with her departure for foreign shores, was demanded by his brother officers, but it was useless asking Captain Chester. He could not toll, and—wasn't it odd? here was Chester again, tha* only man in the colonel's confidence in an hour of evident trouble. "By Jove! What's gone wrong with the chief?" was the first exclamation from one of the older officers. "I never saw him look so broken.''

As no explanation suggested itself, they began edging in toward the office. The door stood open, a handbell banged, a clerk darted in from the sergeant major's rooms, and Captain Chester was revealed seated at the colonel's desk. This in itself was sufficient to induce several officers to stroll in and look inquiringly around. Captain Chester, merely nodding, went on with some writing at which he was engaged.

After a moment's awkward silence and uneasy glancing at one another the party seemed to arrive at the conclusion that it was time to speak. The band had ceased, and the new guard had marched away behind its pealing bugles. Lieutenant Hall winked at his comrades, strolled hesitatingly over to the desk, balanced unsteadily on one leg, and with his hands sticking in his trousers pockets, and his forage cap swinging from protruding thumb and forefinger, cleared his throat, and with marked lack of confidence accosted his absorbed superior: "Colonel gone home?" "Didn't you see him?" was the uncompromising reply, and the captain did not deign to raise his head or eyes. "Well—er—yes, I suppose I did," said Mr. Hall, shifting uncomfortably to his other leg and prodding the floor with the toe of his boot. "Then that wasn't what you wanted to know, I presume, said Captain Chester, signing his name with a vicious dab of the pen and bringing his fist down with a thump on the blotting pad, while ho wheeled around in his chair and looked squarely up into the perturbed features of the junior. "No, it wasn't," answered Mr. Hall in an injured tone, while an audible snicker at. the door added to his sense of discomfort. "What I mainly wanted was to know if I could go to town." "That matter is easily arranged, Mr. Hall. All you have to do is to get out of that uncomfortable and unsoldierly position, stand in the attitude in which you are certainly more at home and infinitely more picturesque, proffer your request in respectful words, and there is no question as to the result.'' "Oh, you're in command, then?" said Mr. Hall, slowly wriggling into the position of the soldier and flushing through his bronzed cheeks. "I thought the colonel might be only gone for a minute." "Tho colonel may not be back for a week, but you be here for dress parade all the same, and—Mr. Hall!" he called as the young officer was turning away. The latter faced about again. "Was Mr. Jerrold going with you to town?'' "Yes, sir. He was to drive me in his dogcart, and it's over here now." "Mr. Jerrold cannot go—at least not until I have seen him. "Why, captain, he got the colonel's permission at breakfast this morning." "That is true, no doubt, Mr. Hall."

And the captain dropped his sharp and captious manner, and his voice fell as though in sympathy with the cloud that settled on his face. "I cannot explain matters just now. There are reasons why the permission is withdrawn for the time being. The adjutant will notify him.'' And Captain Chester turned to his desk again as the new officer of the day, guardbook in hand, entered to make his report. "The usual orders, captain," said Chester as he took the book from his hand and looked over the list of prisoners. Then, in bold and rapid strokes, he wrote across the page the customary certificate of the old officer of the day, winding up with this remark: "He also inspected guard and visited sentries between 3 and 3:35 a m. The firing at 3:30 a. m. was by his order."

Meantime those offiqers who had entered and who had nokimmediate duty to perform were standing or seated around the room, but all observing profound silence. For a moment or two no sound was heard but the scratching of the captain's pen. Tljen, with some embarrassment and hesitancy, he laid it down and glanced around him. "Has any one here anything to ask— any business to transact?"

Two or three mentioned some routine matters that required the action of the

post commander, but did so reluctantly, as though they preferred to await the orders of the colonel himself. Captain Wilton indeed spoke his sentiments: "I wanted to see Colonel Maynard about getting two men of my company relieved from extra duty, but as he isn't here I fancy I had better wait. "Not at all. Who are your men? Have it done at once, Mr. Adjutant, and supply their places from my company if need be. Now, is there anything else?"

The group was apparently 'nonplused," as the adjutant afterward put its by such unlooked for complacence on the part of the usually crotchety senior

"Has any one here anything to ask?" captain. Still, no one offered to lead the others and leave the room. After a moment's nervous rapping with his knuckles on tho desk Captain Chester again abruptly spoke: "Gentlemen, I am sorry to incommode you, but if there be nothing moro that you desire to see me about I shall go on with some other matters, which, pardon me, do not require your presence.

At this very broad hint the" party slowly found their legs, and with much wondermant and not a few resentful glances a*1 their temporary commander the officers sauntered to the doorway. There, however, several stopped again, still reluctart to leave in the face of so pervading a mystery, for Wilton turned. "Am I to understand that Colonel Maynard has \eft the post to be gone any length of ti-ne?" he asked. "He has not yt gone. I do not know how long he will be gone or how soon he will start. Foi pressing personal reasons he has turned over the command to mo, and if he decide to remain away of course som3 field officer will be ordered to come to headquarters. For a day or two you will have to worry along with me, nut 1 sna'irt worry you more than I can help. I've got mystery and mischief enough here to keep me busy, God knows. Just ask Sloat to come back here to me, will you? And, Wilton, I did not mean to be abrupt with you. I'm all upset today. Mr. Adjutant, notify Mr. Jerrold at once that he must not leave the post until I have seen him. It is the colonel's last order. Tell him so."

CHAPTER IL

The night before had been unusually dark. A thick veil of clouds overspread the heavens and hid the stars. Moon there was none, for the faint silver crescent that gleamed for a moment through the swift sailing wisp? of vapor had dropped beneath the horizon soon after tattoo, and the mournful strains of "taps," borne on the rising wind, seemed to signal "extinguish lights" to the entire firmament as well as to Fort Sibley. There was a dance of some kind at the quarters of one of the staff officers living far up the row on the southern terraca Chester heard the laughter and chat as the young officers and their convoy of matrons and maids came tripping homeward after midnight. Ho was a crusty old bachelor, to use his. own description, and rarely ventured into these scenes of social gayety, and besides he was officer of the day, and it was a theory ho was fond of expounding to juniors that when on guard no soldier should permit himself to be drawn from the scene of his duties.

With his books and his pipe Chester whiled away tho lonely hours of the early night and wondered if the wind wrould blow up a rain or disperse the clouds entirely. Toward 1 o'clock a light, botuiding footstep approached his door, and the portal flew open as a trim built young fellow, with laughing eyes and an air of exuberant health and spirits, came briskly in. It was Rollins, tho junior second lieutenant of tho regiment and Chester's own and only pet—so said the envious others. He was barely a year out of leading strings at tho Point and as full of hope and pluck and mischief as a colt. Moreover, ho was frank and teachable, said Chester, and didn't come to him with tho idea that he had nothing to learn and less to do. The boy won upon his gruff captain from tho very start, and, to the incredulous delight of the whole regiment, within six months tho old cynic had taken him into his heart and home, and Mr. Rollins occupied a pleasant room under Chester's roof tree and was the solo accredited sharer of the captain's mess. To a youngster just entering service, whose ambition it was to stick to business and make a record for zeal and efficiency, these were manifest advantages.

There were men in the regiment to whom such close communion with a watchful senior would have been most embarrassing, and Mr. Rollins' predecessor as second lieutenant of Chester's company was one of these. Mr. Jerrold was a happy man when promotion took him from under the wing of Crusty Jako and landed him in Company B. More than that, it came just at a time when, after four years of loneliness and isolation at an up river stockade, his new company and his old one, together,, with four others from the regiment, were ordered to join headquarters and the band at the most delightful station in the northwest. Here Mr. Rollins had reported for duty during the previous autumn, and here they were with troops of other arms of the service, enjoying the close proximity of all the good things of civilization.

(Contained on Eleventh Page.)