Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 190, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 August 1916 — His Own People [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

His Own People

By H. M. EGBERT

(Copyright. 1916. by W. G. Chapman.) “The sentence of the court is that Private Albert Kane be dishonorably dismissed from the service of the government” Colonel Scott snapped out the words. Private Albert Kane raised his head and looked at the officers for the first time. Drunkard, wastrel, outcast, he had expected a minimum of two years’ imprisonment. And that was all his sentence —to be dismissed from the regiment. “You’re lucky, Kane. Wish I was in your shoes,” said one of his companions, as he gathered his things together. “Going East, I suppose?” “Yes,” answered Kane nonchalantly, and walked toward the entrance of the camp. Kane was free. He had enlisted six months before, after a year of dissipation, in the vain hope of forgetting the past. Once, so long ago that the memory of that time was like a dream to him, he had been a decent man. He had bad a good position in a western city, and he had loved Dorothy Davis, whom he knew to be the one woman in the world whom he must love forever. At last he had been in a position to ask her to become his wife. And she had broken the news to him that she was engaged to be married. It was to Colonel Scott, a man considerably her senior; and Kane had gathered that if he had asked her sooner , . . however, there was no use speculating about that. Kane gave up his position, and he hardly remembered anything of the year that followed. Suffice it that, at the end of it, he found himself penniless outside an army camp in Texas. He had the sudden thought of redeeming himself. Here, at least, there would be a life of action. Kane enlisted. He found the monotony of army life in the little border post intolerable. He found that Colonel Scott was his

commanding officer. He found that every week he saw Dorothy. He fled from the sight of her, and fortunately for him she did not recognize him in his soldier’s uniform. Once he was sent on a message to her home, and he left the message with the servant and fled. He ate Jils heart out. He became known as the worst soldier in the regiment. He was continually punished. At last he committed a graver offense against discipline than drunkenness and negligence, and was tried by courtmartlal and dishonorably discharged. In his relief from his fate he resolved to go East and try to make a man of himself. But as he stepped, with his bundle upon his arm, across the enclosure, he saw* Dorothy coming toward him. In vain he turned his eyes away. She saw him; she knew him. He saw the look of recognition in her eyes. She stopped. Kane hurried past her, not daring tcf look back. He gained the entrance to the barracks. But he did not go toward the railroad station, as he had planned. Instead, he turned southward toward the border. He walked jauntily past the customhouse, over the bridge, and flung himself upon the ground. He was in Mexico, and he meant never to return. IL Albert Kane looked up into the sky and searched the distant hills. The summer sun was declining, and fts the mescal went out of him he realized bls abasement. For fifteen months he had lived in the squalid Mexican village tw’elve miles beyond the border. At first looked on with suspicion, ne had become completely identified with the' villagers. He sprawled in the adobe hut, an unclean thing, like the creeping lizards about him. Few men have sunk to such depths as Kane had reached. Now, deep in his heart, an elusive memory stirred. It was a memory of America, which had once been dear to him, of a civilised land where human faces looked

Into his instead ot uia orunsh peasants’ eyes. What was it he was remembering? He knew now. Somebody had kicked him. It was the rebel leader Santos, riding by with a hundred troopers. And what was It had been said?

“The Gringo is always drunk. He is harmless. Do not kill him.” Santos had kicked him contemptuously and ridden on his way. But Kane remembered now. He remembered the whispered colloquy. Nobody knew that he understood much Spanish, for he seldom spoke to anyone. But Kane had gathered that the troop was to raid the American camp at sunup.

Slowly the realization of this crept Into his mind. He heard again the laughter of the Mexican leader, his boast of what he would do to the Gringos, his talk of the American women . . ... then slowly, like a flower, Dorothy’s face unfolded before his eyes against the fading West. Kane staggered to his feet and looked about him. Tethered to a nearby hut was a fine stallion, the property of Santos, which he had left there till his return on the morrow, not wishing to risk it in the impending fight, if fight there was to be. Nobody was guarding it Kane crept toward It. He saw the saddle and bridle at the door of a near-by hut In a moment he had placed the saddle on the animal’s back and fastened the girth. He fitted the bridle, hearing shouts as the Mexicans saw him and divined his purpose. Men ran toward him. Kane cut the halter and leaped on the stallion’s back. In a moment he was away, galloping along the road that led toward the border. Behind him he still heard the cries of the stupefied Mexicans.

HI. • . Once out of sight of the village he moved slowly, for before him, miles away, outlined against the horizon, he saw the cavalry of Santos marching. The day died and the stars pame out. Kane rode along the deserted road. It was midnight when he saw far off the winding Rio. Looking down, he saw the camp of the raiders at the foot of the hill. A high bank on either side of him, rising into the mountains, cut off all possibility of a detour. He must ride through the camp. He gave his horse a rest; then, mounting, he continued, very cautiously, until, topping the last hill, he saw the pickets under him. Then he put his horse to the gallop. Faster and faster he drove the stallion down the hill. He heard the shouts of the guard, he caught a vision of men, risen from sleep, staring at him; and then he was running the gantlet between two lines of Mexicans. He heard their excited shouts. Bullets whizzed past him. He felt as it were the sting of a bean through the forearm, through the shoulder. His right hand, pierced, dropped nervelessly from the reins. He felt the blood stream down him. Then he had passed them, and as his snorting horse gathered itself together beneath him he heard the troop, with wild yells, take up the pursuit. The river glistened before him. The current ran fast and strong. Only a moment he hesitated; and, as he did so, he felt another sting under the arm. Then he drove the stallion into the river. * The bullets whipped the water about him. Kane felt his senses leaving him, and an awful faintness. He felt the Icy water wrap him round like a shroud. Behind him his pursuers had halted. No ordinary horse could swim from the south to the north bank of the Rio in flood time. The current was sweeping him away. But before him he saw, white against the night, the tents of his own people. With a last effort Kane spurred the flagging beast beneath the water. The stallion screamed and suddenly began to tread upon the river bottom.

Splashing and plunging, It gained the American side and rushed up the bank. Behind him the Mexicans were still firing, but now the bullets went wild. Kane was in no danger. If only he could pull himself together and reach his goal! He reined in the stallion with his last reserve strength. He walked it slowly through the entrance to the camp. Men were already alert, aroused by the shots, and falling in. Kane heard the colonel’s voice. He saw a woman standing at his side. He stopped the horse in front of the commanding officer. “Santos is leading a party to attack the camp, sir,” he faltered. “I came to —warn yob—” And Kane fell from his horse into the arms of the colonel’s orderly. They carried him into the colonel’s house. Kane opened his eyes after a long interval, to see faces looking into his. He saw the doctor shake his head. A sense of supreme joy thrilled him. It was good to die —it was good that this should be ended —and be ended thus And among the faces he saw that of the colonel’s wife. Her tears fell over him. Katie tried to speak, but there was no need of speech. In that last interchange of looks all was explained, and the reconciliation effected. He had saved others —what did it matter if he could not save himself? And, with his eyes still holding Dorothy’s look, he fell ipsleep.

In a Moment He Was Away.