Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 146, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 June 1916 — The Ride to Shiloh [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Ride to Shiloh

By GEORGE MUNSON

(Copyright, 1916. by W. G. Chapman.) “Hello, boys! Which of you'll bitch up the dogs and take Miss Arline into Shiloh?" The lumbermen stopped dancing. Half a dozen turned to look at the speaker. He was the camp cook. They sprang forward, not understanding, but eager for the chance. Arline was the only child of Joe Bohner, the boss of a big section on the Northern claim, and now 50 miles away in the woods. Arline was the adored of all the lumbermen, jnpst of whom dreamed of the time when they could ask her to marry them. Big Jim O’Grady, Lean Mike, little Bienalme, the Frenchman, all loved Arline. She had flirted with each of them as only a girl of 18 can flirt; but none of them knew who was the favored one. —,—. Each, including little Blenaime, was sure that it could not be Blenaime. Only the day before Arline had sent the boy away with a long face when he dared to remind her of a promised dance. She had sneered at his size in the presence of the others; and they had laughed at him. “It’s—it’s smallpox!”’explained the cook in a terrified whisper. Every man halted. The dread disease was epidemic around them in half a dozen camps, but so far this one had escaped. All loved Arline,

but Nobody was going to drive 30 miles with an infected girl in a dogsleigh. Little Bienaime came forward. He was shaking and as white as a sheet, but he came forward. “I will take her,” he said, and was conscious that, though the music had started again, nobody was paying any attention to it. “Don’t be a fool, Bienaime," said Big Jim and Lean Mike together. “Want to die, hey?” “I go if I die,” said Bienaime. He went out in the direction of the boss’ shack. He knocked, and receiving no answer, went in, to find Arline huddled over the stove, the fear of death* on her face, where the signs of the dread disease were already evident. “What do you want?” she asked, looking up at him. “I take you to Shiloh, to the doctor,” answered the little Frenchman. "Keep back, you fool. Haven’t you more sense?” demanded the girl bitterly. "I reckon you don’t want to die, do you?” ” * “I take you to Shiloh,” repeated the Frenchman obstinately. “Keep back! What about the other boys? Wouldn’t they come? I thought,” she gulped, “maybe Big Jim would take me. He ought to, heaven knows.” Blenaime’s heart leaped. So it was Big Jim she loved. Then he gritted his teeth. “I’m glad it is Big Jim and not me," he said, “because now it —it won’t matter.” He told her to wait while he harnessed his dogs. Presently the sleigh came along the trail, the beasts pulling with a will. “Whoa!” shouted Bienaime, and as they lay down in the snow he entered the shack again. The girl was still huddled over the stove. “Come!” said Bienaime. She stared at him. “You mean it, Francois?” she cried. “Wouldn’t—wouldn't anybody else come?” Francois Bienaime evaded that question. "My luck," he said. “I was first on the spot". “They wouldn’t come!” she exclaimed. "You don’t mean you’re going to drive 30 miles, sitting at my side, Francois? Why, it’ll be sure death to you. They say if you take it in the open it’s sure to kill. Best leave me here. Maybe I’ll get well. I don’t feel so bad.” "Alas,” said Bienaime, “it is no use. I am exposed now.' I may as well take you.” *. x The girl considered. Yes, that was true. He had eiposed himself already

to the contagion; be could not go back to the lumber camp. "All right. But don’t get too near me," she said, rising. Nevertheless Blenaime bundled her up in the shawl, wrapped her in a pair of blankets and took her tn his arms and carried her to the sleigh. He placed her there, nestling snugly among the robes. "Mush!" he said, and the dogs started. They raced along the trail. At the bend Bienalme, looking back, saw the crowd from the dance hall looking after them. He felt his heart leap up in exaltation. “Mush!" he shouted, leaping into the sleigh. The dogs ran on. Blenaime sat in the sleigh beside his beloved. And the weary miles began to be told off. “I wonder if I’ll die," mused the girl. "I don’t feel very sick." “No fear of dying," said little Bienalme. “I can’t let you die, Miss Arline. It would mean too much to Big Jim, I guess.” He was not conscious of the curious face she turned on him. He was beginning to freeze, for he had given her all the robes. It was not cold, even for March, but ten above zero is cold enough for a night journey, even for a lumberman. He stood upon the tailing log at the back of the sleigh, shouting to the dogs as they raced into the road, 12 miles from camp, that led toward Shiloh. Every time he rested the dogs he went to look at Arline, but always her eyes were closed, and he did not dare to speak to her. The hours wore on. Morning came, and they were still five miles from Shiloh. He aroused Arline at the last stopping. “You are better," he said with conviction.. The girl stared at him as if she did not know what had occurred. Then her eyes brightened. "I thought—you were Big Jim,” she gasped. So they rode into Shiloh. The sleigh drew up outside the doctor's house and Blenaime descended, carrying Arline in his arms. The doctor’s face appeared at the window; he came to the door. “What is it?” he asked. “Smallpox,” said Blenaime briefly. "Bring her in,” said the doctor. Blenaime waited in the cold. He was shivering, and he knew he was doomed; nevertheless he was glad he had done Big Jim a good turn. Presently the doctor came out; his eyes were angry, but his mouth was twitching. “You’ve come on a long journey. It wasn’t necessary,” he said. "But the smallpox, Doctor!" “Measles, my son,” said the doctor, laying his hand on his arm. “I’ll take charge of her for a day or two till she’s better. Sure you can come in and see her.” Bienalme went in to find the girl seated in the doctor’s chair. She sprang to her feet and stretched out her arms. “Francois!” she sobbed. “It is well, then —it is nothing. You did what none of them dared to do. How can I reward you?” Suddenly Francois knew. “Ah t Mademoiselle Arline," he stammered, “if you—if you—” The doctor’s hand fell on his shoulder. “The priest will be here in a couple of days,” he said gruffly. “He’s got the best remedy for both of you.”

Huddled Over the Stove.