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The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, February 10, 1904, Image 2

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The Denison Review
,0. F. TUCKER, Publisher.
DENISON,
1%
IOWA.
ADORATION.
Don't you know, dear, I adore you
Just as I used to do
Blue skies and rainbows o'er you,
Blossoms begemmed with dew,
iShiffled cool paths before you,
Slirubs where the birds sing, too.
•.-Don't you know, dear, I adore you
f. Just as I used to do?
fin the dear clays gone by, dear,
In the dear days of June,
£.•«" Didn't our hopes soar high, dear?
Didn't the love birds croon?
££.%' ^c"' do ou know, my own dear,
"•j Still 1 can catch their tune?
yr Sitting litie all alone, dear,
5 Still does my life seem June.
'Sitting here all alone, dear,
«-J 'v Thinking of then and you
fc'i v» Days that we both have known, dear,
Stj'. Branches, a-drip with dew,
A Branches a-drip with dew, dear,
Boughs where the love birds croon,
'""^-Life all the j-ears with you, dear,
Seems a long honeymoon.
t/v $
.JftStill as my locks grow whiter,
vri Still is my thought of you
Days but make hearts grow lighter,
't Hearts that are leal and true
iStill have we nearer grown, dear,
Still do I walk with you,
c»Never, ah, never alone, dear,
v' Out 'neath the blooms and dew.
•—J. M. Lewis, In Houston Post.
A Daughter
of the Sioux
By GEN. CHARLES KING.
Copyright, 1003) by Tho Hobart Company*
CHAPTER XXII.
In the whirl and excitement fol
lowing the startling outcry from the
flats, all Fort Frayne was speedily
involved. The guard came rushing
•through the night, Corporal Shannon
stumbling over a prostrate form—
the sentry on Number Six, gagged
and bound. The steward shouted
from the hospital porch that Eagle
Wing, the prisoner patient, had
(•scaped through the rear window,
despite its height above the sloping
ground. A little ladder, borrowed
from the quartermaster's corral,
was found a moment later. An In
dian rony, saddled Sioux fashion,
...• •was caught running, riderless, to
ward the trader's back gate his
ii horsehair bridle torn half way from
his shaggy head. Sergeant Crabb,
.waiting for no orders from the ma
i°r, no sooner heard that Moreau
was gone than he rushed his stable
uw^guard to the saddleroom, and in 15
minutes had, not only his own squad,
ijsghut half a dozen "casual" troopers
circling the post in search of the
Ifltrail, and in less than half an hour
,pywas hot in chase of two fleeing
P, horsemen, dimly seen ahead through
"the starlight, across the snowy
wastes. That snowfall was the
Sioux's undoing. Without it the
'trail would have been invisible at
night. With it, the pursued were
well-nigh lippeless^'frqm the start.
Precious tHfis had "ijeen lost in cir
cling far outr'south of the post before
malting for the ford whither Crabb's
instinct sent him at once to the end
j&lhat he and two of his fellows
,-',plov,ghecl through the foaming
4^ waters barely 500 yards behind the
Fil chase and as they rode vehemently
0$! onward through the starlight,
jk straining every nerve, they heard
{jl'- nothing of the happenings about
the Foster's doorway, where by this
gj^jtime post commander, post sur
|^v geon, post quartermaster and act
ing post adjutant, post ordnance,
quartermaster and commissary
sergeants, many of the post guard
flj and most of the post laundresses
tip had gathered—some silent, anxious
and bewildered, some excitedly
",v
5
babbling while, within the ser-
geant's domicile, Esther Dade, very
"i y"J- and somewhat out of breath,
was trying with quiet self possession
to answer the myriad questions
poured at her, while Dr. Waller was
ministering to the dazed and moan
ing sentry, and, in an adjoining
tenement, a little group had gather
ed about an unconscious form. Some
one had sent for Mrs. Hay, who was
silently, tearfully chafing the limp
and almost lifeless hands of a girl in
Indian garb. The cloak and skirts
I of civilization had been found be
neath the window of the deserted
room, and were exhibited as a means
iiof bringing to his senses a much
|bewildered major, whose first words
v*v|on
entering the hut gave rise to
5s wonderment in the eyes of most of
C*'his hearers, and to an impulsive re
ply from the lips of Mrs. Hay
"I warned the general that girl
would play us some Indian trick,
but lie ordered her release," said
Flint, and with wrathful emphasis
*nmn
iho nncwpr
came the answer.
Sf"vt
f. "The general warned you this girl
^would play you a trick, and, thanks
Ho no one but you, she's done it!"
Then rising and stepping aside,
g/ the long-suffering woman revealed
the palid, senseless face—not of the
little Indian maid, her shrinking
charge and guest—but of the niece
she loved and had lived and lied for
many and trying years—Nanette La
Fleur, a long-lost sister's only child.
So Blake knew what he was talking
about that keen November morning
among the pines at Bear Cliif. He
V. had unearthed an almost forgotten
legend of old Fort Laramie.
"Who could have done it?" asked
Flint. It was inconceivable to Dr.
Waller's mind that any one of the sol
dierj- could have beeu tempted to
KJf&r'
such perfidy for an Indian's eake.
There was not at the moment an In
dian scout or soldier at the post, or
an Indian warrior, not a prisoner, un
accounted for. There had been half
breeds hanging about the store prior
to the final escapade of Pete and Cra
paud, but these had realized their un
popularity after the battle on the
Elk, and had departed for other
climes. Crapaud was still under
guard. Pete was still at large, per
chance, with Stabber's braves. There
was not another man about the tra
der's place whom Flint or others
could suspect. Yet the sergeant of
the guard, searching cautiously with
his lantern about the post of Number
Six, had come upon some suggestive
signs. The snow was trampled and
bloody about the place where the
soldier fell, and there were her« and
there the tracks of moecasined feet—
those of a young woman or child go
ing at speed toward the hospital, run
ning probably, and followed close by
a moecasined man. Then those of the
man, alone, went sprinting down thy
bluff southeastward over the flats
some distance south of the Foster's
doorway and up the opposite bluff, to
a point where four ponies, shoeless,
had been huddled for as much, per
haps, as half an hour. Then all four
had come scampering down close to
gether into the space below the hos
pital, not 50 yards from where the
sentry fell, and the moccasined feet
of a man and woman had scurried
down the bluff from the hospital win
dow, to meet them west of Foster's
shanty. Then there had been confu
sion—trouble of some kind: One
pony, pursued a short distance, had
broken away the others had .gone
pounding out southeastward up the
slope and out over the uplands,
then down again in wide sweep,
through the valley of the little rivu
let and along the low bench south
west of the fort, crossing the Rock
Springs road and striking, further on,
diagonally, the Rawlins trail, where
Crabb and his fellows had found it
and followed.
But all this took hours of time,
and meanwhile, only half revived, Na
nette had been gently, pityingly
borne away to a sorrowing woman's
home, for at last it was found,
through the thick and lustrous hair,
that she, too, had been struck a
harsh and cruel blow that one' rea-"
son, probably, why she had been able
to oppose no stouter resistance to so
slender a girl as Esther Dade was
that she was already half dazed
through the stroke of some blunt,
heavy weapon, wielded probably by
him she was risking all to save.
Meantime the major had been pur
suing his investigations. Schmidt, the
soldier sentry in front of Moreau's
door, a simple-hearted Teuton of irre
proachable character, tearfuly pro
tested against his incarceration. He
had obeyed his orders to the letter.
The major himself had brought the
lady to the hospital and showed her
in. The door that liad been open,
permitting the Gentry constant sight
of the prisoner, had been closed by
the commanding officer himself.
Therefore, it was *iot for him, a pri
vate soldier, to presume to reopen it.
The major said to the lady he would
return for her soon after ten, and
the lady smilingly (Schmidt did not
say how smilingly—how bewitehing
ly smilingly, but the major needed
no reminder) thanked him, and said,
by that time she would be ready. In
a few minutes she came out, saying
(doubtless with the same bewitching
smile) she would have to run over
home for something, and she was
gone nearly half an hour, and all that
time the door was open, the prisoner
on the bed in his blankets, the lamp
brightly burning. It was near tattoo
when she returned, with some things
under her cloak, and she was breath
ing quick and seemed hurried and
shut the door after thanking him,
and he saw no more of her for 15
minutes, when the door opened and
out she came, the same cloak around
her, vet she looked different, some
how, and must have tiptoed, for he
didn't hear her heels as he had be
iore. She didn't seem quite so tall,
either, and that was all, for he never
knew anything more about it till the
steward came running to tell of the
escape.
So Schmidt could throw but little
light upon the situation, save to
Flint himself, who did not then see
fit to say to anyone that at no time
was it covenanted that Miss Flower
should be allowed to go and come
unattended. In doing so she had de
luded some one beside the sentry.
It was late in the night when Num
ber Six regained his senses and could
tell his tale, which was even more
damaging. Quite early in the even
ing, so he said—as early as nine
o'clock—he was under the hospital
corner, listening to the music further
up along the bluff. A lady came from
the south of the building as though
she were going down to Sudstown.
Mrs. Foster had gone down not long
before, and Hogan, with a lantern,
and two oilicers' ladies. But this one
came all alone and spoke to him
pleasant-like and said she was so
sorry lie couldn't be at the dance.
She'd been seeing the sick and wound
ed in hospital, she said, and was go
ing to bring some wine and jellies.
If he didn't mind, she'd take the path
around the quartermaster's store
house outside, as she was going to
Mr. Hay's, and didn't care to go
through by the guardhouse. So Six
let her go, as he "had no orders agin
it" (even th.oi'gh it dawned upon him
that this ?jiust be the young lady
that had been carried off by the
Sioux). That made him think a bit,
he said, uud when she came back
with a basket nicely covered with a
white napkin, she made him take a
big chicken sandwich "Sure I didn't
know how to refuse the lady, until
she poured me out a big tumbler of
wine—wine, she said, she was taking
to Scrgt. I'riygh and Corporal Tur­
ner that was shot at the Elk, and she
couldn't bear to see me all alone out
there in the cold." But Six said he
dasn't take the wine. He got six
months "blind" once for a similar
solecism, and, mindful of the major's
warning (this was diplomatic), Six
swore he had sworn off, and had to
refuse the repeated requests of the
lady. He suspicioned her, he said,
because she was so persistent. Then
she laughed and said good-niglit and
went on to the hospital. What be
came of the wine she had poured out?
(This from the grim and hitherto si
lent doctor, seated by the bedside.)
She must have tossed it out or drunk
it herself, perhaps, Six didn't know.
Certainly no trace of it could be
found in the snow. Then nothing hap
pened for as much as 20 minutes or
so, and lie was over toward the south
end of his post, but facing toward
1 lie hospital when she came again
down the steps, and this time handed
him some cake and told him lie was
a good soldier not to drink even
wine, and asked him what were the
lights away across the Platte, and he
couldn't see any, and was following
her pointing finger and staring, and
then all of a sudden he saw a million
lights dancing and stars and bombs
and that was all he knew till they be
gan talking to him" here in hospital.
Something had hit him from behind,
but he couldn't tell what.
Flint's nerve was failing him, for
here was confirmation of the gener
al's theory.
And so it was with hardened and
resentful heart that the major
sought her on the morrow. The gen
eral and the commands afield would
soon be coming home. Such Indians
as they had not "rounded up" and
captured were scattered far and
wide. The campaign was over. Now
for the disposition of the prisoners.
It was to tell Mrs. Hay and Nanette,
especially Nanette, why the sentries
were re-established about their home
that, though he would not place the
trader's niece within a garrison cell,
he should hold her prisoner beneath
the trader's roof to await the action
of superior authority on the grievous
charges lodged at her door. She was
able to be up, said .Miss McGrath—
not only up, but down—down in the
breakfast room, looking blither and
more like herself than she had been
since she was brought home.
"Say that Maj. Flint desires to see
her and Mrs. Hay," said Flint, with
majesty of mien, as, followed by two
of his officers, he was shown into the
trader's parlor.
And presently they came—Mrs. Hay
pale and sorrowing Miss Flower,
pale, perhaps, but triumphantly de
fiant. The one sat and covered her
face with her hands as she listened
to the major's few words, cold, stern
and accusing. The other looked
squarely at him, with fearless, glit
tering eyes:
"You maj' order what j'ou like so
far as I'm concerned," was the ut
terly rccklcss answer of the girl. "I
don't care what you do now tfcat I
know he is safe—free—and that you
will never lay hands on him again."
"That's where you are in error,
Miss FIo\yer," was the major's calm,
cold-blooded, j-et rejoieeful reply. It
was for this, indeed, that he had
come. ".Ralph Moreau was run down
by my men soon after midnight, and
he's now behind the bars."
CHAPTER XXIII.
December and bitter cold. The
river frozen stiff. The prairie sheet
ed in unbroken snow. Great log fires
roaring in every open fireplace.
Great throngs of soldiery about the
red hot. barrack stoves, for all the
columns were again in winter quar
ters, and- Flint's two companies had
"got the route" for home. They
"IT'S A UK! YOU SHALL NOT SAY
IT, SIR!" CRIED FIELD.
were to march on the morrow, es
corting as far as Lar ,mie the in
tractables of Stabber's band, some
few of the Indians to go in irons,
among them Ralph Moreau, or Eagle
Wing, now a notorious character.
The general was there at Frayne,
with old Black Bill, erstwhile chief
inspector of the department, once a
subaltern in days long gone by when
Laramie was "Ultima Tliule" of the
plains forts. The general had heard
Flint's halting explanation of his
laxity in Moreau's case, saying al
most as little as his old friend Grant
when "interviewed" by those of
whom he disapproved. "Black Biy
it was who waxed explosive when
once he opened on the major, and
showed that amazed New Englander
something of the contents of
Moreau's Indian kit, including the
now famous hunting pouch, all found
with Stabber's village. A precious
scoundrel, as it turned out, was this
same Moreau, with more sins to an
swer for than many a convicted jail
bird, and with not one follower left
to do him reverence except, perhaps,
1
f" '-5 1
that lonely girl, self sccluded at tht
Hays.' Hay himself, though weak,
was beginning to sit up. Dade, Blako
and Ray were all once more housed
in garrison. Truscott and- Billings,
with their hardy troopers, had taken
temporary station at the post, until
the general had decided upon tlfe dis
position of the array of surrendered
Indians, nearly 300 in number, now
confined under strong guard in the
quartermaster's corral at the flats,
with six "head devils," including
Eagle Wing, in the garrison prison.
All the officers, with two excep
tions, were again for duty at Frayne.
Webb, laid by the heels at Beeeher,
his feet severely frozen, and Beverly
Field, who, recalled from a brief and
solemn visit to a far southern home,
had reached the post .it nightfall of
the tenth. There had hardly been al
lowed him time to uplift a single
prayer, to receive a word of consola
tion from the lips of friends and kin
dred who loved the honored father,
borne to his last resting place.
"Come as soon as possible" read the
message wired him by Ray, and,
hough the campaign was over, it was
evident that something was amiss,
and, with all his sorrow fresh upon
him, the lad, sore in body and soul,
had hastened to obey.
And it was Ray who received and
welcomed him and took him straight
way to his own cosy quarters, that
Mrs. Ray, and then the Blakes, might
add their sympathetic and cordial
greeting—ere it came to telling why
it was that these, his friends despite
that trouble that could not be talked
of, were now so earnest in their sym
pathy—before telling him that his
good name had become involved, that
there were allegations concerning
him which the chief had ordered
"pigeon-holed" until he should coins
to face them. A pity it was that Bill
Hay could not have been there, too,
but his fever had left him far too
weak to leave his room. Only Ray
and Blake were present and it was an
interview not soon, if ever, to be
forgotten.
"I'm no hand at breaking things
gently, Field," said Ray, when finally
the three were closeted together in
the captain's den. "It used to worry
Webb that you were seen so often
riding with Miss—Miss Flower up to
Stabber's village, and, in the light of
what has since happened, you will
admit that he had reasons. Hear me
through," he continued, as Field, sit
ting bolt upright in the easy chair, es
sayed to speak. "Neither C'apt. Blake
nor I believe one word to your dis
honor in the matter, but it looks as
though 3"ou had been made a tool
of, and you are by no means the first
man. It was to see this fellow, Mor
eau—Eagle Wing—whom you recog
nized at the Elk—she was there so
frequently—was it not?"
Into Field's pale face there had
come a look of infinite distress. For
a moment he hesitated, and little
beads began to start out on his fore
head.
"Capt. Ray," he finally said, "they
tell me—I heard it from the driver
on the way up from Rock Springs—
that Miss Flower is virtually a prison
er, that she luid been in league with
the Sioux, and yet, until I can see
her—can secure my release from a
promise, 1 have to answer you as I
answered you before—I cannot say."
Blake started impatiently and
heaved up from his lounging chair,
his long legs taking him in three
strides to the frost-covered window
at the front. Ray sadly shook his
dark, curly head.
"You are to see her, Field. Tho
general—bless him for a trump!
wouldn't "listen to a word against you
in your absence but that girl has in
volved everybody—you, her aunt, who
has been devotion itself to her, her
uncle, who was almost her slave. She
deliberately betrayed him into the
hands of the Sioux. In fact this red
robber and villain, Moreau, is the only
creature she hasn't tried to 'work,'
and he abandoned her after she had
lied, sneaked and stolen for him."
"Capt. Ray!" The cry came from
pallid lips, and the young soldier
started to his feet, appalled at such
accusation.
"Every word of it is true," said
Ray. "She joined him after his
wounds. She shared his escape from
the village at our approach. She was
with him when Blake nabbed them
at Bear Cliff. She was going with him
from here. What manner of girl was
that, Field, for you to be mixed up
with?"
"Ho is her half brother!" protested
Field, with kindling eyes. "She told
me—everything—told me of their
childhood together, and—"
"Told you a pack of infernal lies!"
burst in Blake, no longer able to con
tain himself. "Made you atat's paw
led you even to taking licr by night
to see him when she learned the band
were to jtimj) for the mountains—
used you, by God, as he used her, and,
like the Indian she is, she'd turn
and stab you now, if you stood in her
way or his. Why, Field, that brute's
her lover, and she's his—"
"It's a lie! You shall not say it,
sir!" cried Field, beside himself with
wrath and amaze, as he stood quiver
ing from head to foot, still weak from
wounds, fever and distress of mind.
But Ray sprang to his side. "Hush,
Blake! Hush, Fjeld! Don't speak.
What is it, Hogan?" And sharply he
turned him to the door, never dream
ing what had caused the interrup
tion.
"The general, sir, to see the cap
tain!"
[To Be Continued.]
Ills Rcaaon.
The Lady—But why don't you go
over^to Canada? They need a lot of
farm hands over there.
Sandy Pikes—Well, I'll tell yor
mum. I would go but I hate de ar
noyance of dc custom officers lookii
froo mo baggage fer smuggled .di
monds.—Chicago Dai!,) News.
The Home and the
Modern-Day JVoman
By MRS. CARRIE CHAPMAN CATT.
•v. -.'.
The question so often asked, "Will the activity
of women in wage or money-earning occupations dis
rupt the home must ever prove an idle one'. The
constantly increasing numbers of women in such occu
pations should be credited entirely to the pressure of
necessity for larger family incomes, due in turn to
the inventions and commcrcial changes which have
practically driven out of the home and into the factory
the old-time home industries which were cnce pecu- I
liarly woman's own. I
The bread, pies, doughnuts, ketchups, preserves,'
gowns, shirts, trousers, stockings, mittens and similar
family necessities were produced almost exclusively by women at home
a generation ago. Now, in our cities at least, they are bought from the
factory. The change has left many women with idle hands and many
men with greater financial obligations than they can carry alone. The
women of the family have been forced to add something to its resources,
and since ihe changes in the commercial world are unquestionably per
manent, the working woman, as a factor in the economic life of our
people, is likewise permanent.
Homes must of necessity be adjusted to new facts. There may be
more sentiment in the memory of the old-time family gathering in the V
big kitchen, where all united in the paring and chopping of apples, .^,
while the mother flavored the mince meat preparatory to the Christmas jwf|§
festivities, which we do not find in the city family, of which each mem
ber is a wage-earner and whose Christmas dinner is bought at a bakery.
But the latter is a present-day fact. Whether we like it or not, we must
recognize these changed conditions as progress and home are surely not
to be disrupted by any step of progress. rj5"
We are only now in the midst of the transition, and there is a ten-.^f
dency to dictate to women what they may or may not do of the world's
work. But time will demonstrate that there is as great diversity of
talent airfong women as among men, and that no restriction must be put
upon either in the choice of a vocation. It may be that the means of
protection of working women have not kept pace with the increase in
their numbers, but if not the means will come. That this working
woman will vote is a foregone conclusion, let say who will that the move
nient may come to an end.
Pi ecisely the same argument which led to the enfranchisement of'-w-'
the working man applies to the working woman, and the American
people have not lost all sense.of logic and consistency. The movement,
which is now world wide, has never lost anything once gained, and its
strength increases year by year. The last victory is that of Tasmania,
where women may now vote in all elections upon the same terms as^'-'
men.
Corporation Bribery
By JOHN HARSEN RHODES,
President Greenwich Savings Bank, New York City.
RIBERY runs "from every little hamlet to the United StatesS|f
congress not bribery you can lay your hands on, neverthe-^
less, the essence of bribery—the hand behind the back. What"'
are you going to do about it That's the question.
Make your laws, and make them so drastic as you like."
Inflict as heavy a penalty as you can, but at the same time'
I don't believe you will stop this thing. It has got the coun
try by the throat. (i
In the first place, to reason it out logically, the every
day citizen is to blame for this condition of affairs. It takes 'i
money to run a campaign of any kind, and the average man will not
contribute. The corporations do they did in the first place to get the
good will of the political parties they do now to keep that good will and
to be let alone as much as possible. I grant you that it's all wrong, buM
take the corporation man's side. He may have wrung unjust privileges
from the people, but he is put there to protect his stockholders' interests.
Along comes the politician, who is able to get a few bills, every one of
which will be a stab in the back for that corporation man. ,4§feit director
wants to be let alone more than anything else, so he gives up his money,:
and saj For the Lord's sake, take it and get out!"
It is not always in that crude form—in fact, the average corpora
tion bribery is the most subtle, elusive thing in the world. Neverthe
less, it is bribery, and it is effective, and it has corrupted every legislative
body, and the voters themselves expect it, while the political parties fat
ten on it. What are you going to do?
Make your laws, and you can't draw them too strongly still I doubt
if you can stop this corruption. The voter is at fault primarily, and
whether he'll ever wake up is a great problem.
JVhy Negroes Seek the City
By BOOKER T. WASHINGTON,
President of Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute.
HERE are several influences that are constantly exerting
themselves against the negro growing up on the soil at the
present. One of these is la-.A of public school facilities in the
country districts and the frequent and unwise agitation of
the question of dividing the school fund in proportion to the,,,
taxes paid by each race. In the cites and larger towns the
negro parent finds a comfortable schoolhouse and a school
in session eight or nine months, taught by a competent
teacher. Moreover, the negro knows that if, perchance, he
may be deprived of nearly all school facilities in the country,
in the city the various missionary agencies will keep a school open for
his children eight or nine months. In the country, as a rule, the school
house is wretched, the teacher poor and the term lasts only three to fi^c
months.
If for no other reason than these financial ones it would pay those
who own the land in the south to see to it that a good school is kept open
in every country district. A good school, in my opinion, would soon
add 50 per cent, to the price of farming lands, because it would soon
stop in a large measure the exodus of colored people to the cities.'
Anothei thing which sends a larger number of negroes to the cities than
many realize is th esurety of getting police protection in the city when
one is charged with crime. I think I do not overstate the matter when'
say that for every lynching or attempted lynching that takes place in
he country a score of colored people leave the vicinity for the city. Thii
whole question is one thai, should receive very serious attention.
j5

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