OCR Interpretation


The Baltimore County union, the Towson news. (Towson, Md.) 1909-1912, October 16, 1909, Image 1

Image and text provided by University of Maryland, College Park, MD

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn88065091/1909-10-16/ed-1/seq-1/

What is OCR?


Thumbnail for

VOL. 60. WHOLE No. 2336.
You Can Have
BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS
All Winter, at Christmas Time, at
Easter Time, also in your Lawns and
Flower Beds
AT THE FIRST OPENING OF
SPRINGTIME
IF TOO PLANT NOW
BOLGIANO’S FALL BULBS.
Our beautifully illustrated 20-Page
Fall Flower Catalogue will be cheer
fully sent, you if you drop us a postal
today.
Plant Now
Each Doz. 100
Ilaby Hyacinths... 3c 30c $2.00
Bedding Hyacinths 5c 35c 2.85
2d size Hyacinths.. 7c 00c 4.60
Ist size Hyacinths. 9c 90c 6.75
Roman Hyacinths. 6c 65c 4.50
Frees la Bulbs, 2 for 5c 15c 1.00
Early Tulips, mix. 2c 10c 75
May Tulips 3c 25c 2.50
Parrot Tulips 3c 25c 1.50
Double Tulips 2c 15c 00
Narcissus, single... 3c 15c 75
Narcissus.paper w. 4c 25c 1.25
Jonquils 2c 10c 60
Double Narcissus.. 3c 15c 75
Bnow Drops 2c 15c 85
Crocus, mixed 1c 6c 40
Oralis 2c 10c 80
Easter Lillies 10c SIOO 7.50
Calla Lillies 8c 90c 7.50
Our famous Self waterlog Window
Boxes are especially well adapted to
the successful growth of all kinds of
flowering bulbs, plant tubs, flower pots.
Your local merchant can get from us
what Fall Bnts you want. If be does
not sell our Fall Bulbs you can send
your order to us and we will see that
they reach you in perfect condition. f
J. BOLGIANO & SON
Four Generations in the Beed Business
BALTIMORE. Md.
J
si
t/ # POOFING 1
THE fact that Amatite needs no,
painting makes it the most
economical roofing on the]
market.
A roof which requires painting]
every couple of years to keep it
tight is an expensive proposition.!
Ityou will stop and figure out the]
cost of the paint, you will find it is]
frequently more than the roofing]
itself.
Amatite is covered with a real
mineral surface .which makes paint-j
ing absolutely unnecessary.
Anyone can lay Amatite. It re 2 ]
quires no skilled labor. Nails and
Liquid cement which requires no
heating, supplied free with every]
roll.
Griffth & Turner Company
Farm and Garden Supplies
N.a.ys P t ,c * st } Baltimore.
J. P. STEINBAGH
Maker of
GENTLEMEN S CLOTHES
PROFESSIONAL elsg.
CHARLES AND PLEASANT STS.
80l i I'uoues.
C. <fcP. TELEPHONE
N. C. HAEFELE & CO.
Gas and Electrical Construction
in all its branches
Up-to-date workmanship and reason
able prices. Let me make an estimate
on installing your home with
GAS or ELECTRICITY
I guarantee entire satisfaction in good
work and fair dealing
Office and Show Room:
Bel Air Road, between Overlea and
Maple Avenues,
Overlea P. 0., Baltimore Co., Md.
JARRETT N. GILBERT
(Successor to BAY and GETTY)
4b GENERAL
COMMISSION MERCHANT
Grain, Wool and Hay
BOURSE BUILDING, Custom House
Avenue and Water Street
BALTIMORE, - - - MD.
DEAL WITH
REITZE
FOR*BESMLOTHES.
rSAgwiTT-s 0 ! tltifitSlS
vite your early inspection.
Suits.- “g
Specialists on Full Dress Suits... 30.00 up
J. H. Reitze & Son
643 W. Baltimore Street, 2‘doorß
west of Arch,
Baltimore, Md.
Second National Bank
TOWSON, M<3L.
M4L We invite the accounts of Individuals, Firms, Corporations, Societies, fIRHn
Executors, Administrators, Trustees, Ac.
A jr- (\
I { —H
* x Collections Made. *B* Loans Negotiated.
Banking in All Its Branches. *
* EVERY POSSIBLE ACCOMMODATION FOB OCR DEPOSITORS.
-lOPPICERSi
THOMAB W. OFFUTT, ELMER J. COOK, l VICE-PREBIDENTB. THOS. J. MEADS,
President. Harrison Rider, 1 cashier.
Thomas W. Offutt. W. Bernard Duke, Henry C. Lonqnecker,
ELMER J. COOK, WM. A. LEE, Z. HOWARD ISAAC,
HARRISON RIDER, CHAB. H. KNOX, NOAH E. OFFUTT.
John I Yellott, W. Gill Smith, Frank X. Hooper.
Feb. 6—ly _
THE COMMERCIAL BANK OF MARYLAND
BELVEDERE AVENUE,
Near Reisterstown Road, ARLINGTON, Md.
. . 0— >—-
CAPITAL STOCK, $25,000.
, . - o——
ICTOW OPEN IFOR BUSINESS.
. O— —►
Does a general Banking Business in all that is consistent with safe and carefnl man
agement. The location of oar Bank makes it the most convenient place for a large
number of residents of Baltimore county to transact their financial business.
Daring the short time onr Bank has been open for business the amount of deposits
has reached a success far in excess of onr expectations.
We have a SAVINGS DEPARTMENT and pay Interest on money deposited there.
Call and see ns and we will explain why it will be to yonr advantage to open an
account with ns.
Prompt attention given to all collection business entrusted to ns.
—iOFFICERS: —
CHAS T COCKET. Jr., JOHN K. CULVER, Ist Vice-President. CHARLES E. SMITH,
President. HOWARD E. JACKSON, 2d Vice-President. Cashier.
—:DIREOTORS:
CHARLES T COCKEY, Jr., HOWARD E. JACKSON, ROBERT H. McMANNS,
ARTHUR F. NICHOLSON, J- B. WAILES, MAX ROSEN,
JOHN K CULVER, GEORGB W. ALT, H. D. HAMMOND,
J. FRANK SHIPLEV, H. D. EASTMAN. Dec.2B-ly
ji ONE $ #
SURE
WAY * !:
< [ To have money is to save It. The sure way to save it is by depositing It In a, ]
* > responsible bank. You will then be exempt from annoyance of having it burn <,
] > holes in your pockets, and aside from the factathat yonr money will be safe ]>
i ] from theft, the habit of saving tends to the establishment of thrift, economy, , ]
] > discipline and a general understanding of business principles essential to yonr <,
<[ success. <’ <
] > To those wishing to establish relations with a safe, strong bank, we heartily <,
1 [ extend onr services. 4 [
ji The Towson National Bank,:]
TOWSON, MD. ;>
< I DIRECTORS. < I
]! JOHN CROWTHER, President; D. H. RICE, Vice-President; < \
i > Col. Walter 8. Franklin. Lewis M. Bacon, ] >
<] Hon. J. Fred. C. Talbott, Wilton Creenway,
] > Hon. John S. Blddlson, Ernest C. Hatch. ] >
Emanuel W. Harman, w Q OBAUMEB , Cashier. j!
Western Maryland College*
Westminster. Maryland.
REV. T. H. LEWIB, D. D., LL. D., President,
A high grade College with low rates, $225 a year for board, furnished
room and tuition.
Three courses leading to degree of A. B. Classical, Scientific, Historical,
and a course in Pedagogy,' entitling graduates to teach in Maryland
without examination.
Preparatory School for those not ready for College.
Forty-third Year Opens Wednesday, Sept. 15, 1909.
INSURE YOUR PROPERTY
The+Home t Insurance+Company
or mnw yorbl,
49*Which has for the put twelve years paid every loss in Baltimore County'll
CASH When Adjusted.
Assets—Twenty-FiYe Million Dollars. FIRE, LIGHTNING AND WINDSTORM.
The “Home” Writes the Largest Business In Maryland.
REPRESENTED IN BALTIMORE COUNTY BY
WHEELER & COLE, Towson. WEIDEMEYBR & BHIPLEY, Owings’ Mills,
WM. J. BIDDISON, Raspeburg, HOWARD M. GORE, Freeland.
|STSee that your Policy it in the “Borne.” [June 5-6 m
J. J. GEORGE & CO.,
PRODUCE COMMISSION
109 MARKET SPACE,
Near Wholesale Produoe Market, :o: BALTIMORE, Md.
Red X Ohick Starter, Red X Chick Feed, Red X Poultry Feed,
Red X Dry Mash Feed, and Poultry Supplies.
Peerless Hot-Water System Incubators and Brooders, also the Peerless
Lampless Brooder. Portable Poultry Houses and Hennery Outfits.
Iron Age Potato Diggers. Farm and Garden Implements.
The United States Cream Separators. GET OUR CATALOG.
May 29—6 m
S. K. FENDALL & CO.,
TOWSON, MD.,
AGENTS FOR ALL KINDS
Farm Machinery and Implements
I INTERNATIONAL gasoline engines,
lllllllV UEEK W DUWIIEdi I The Best Engine a farmer or manufactor can buy
Repair Parts for All Machines on Hand.
If we haven’t them we will get them on short notice and can save you money on our full line.
The Hoosier Con Planter a Soecialtj.
ENVBLOPSB I
BNVXLOPEBI
ENVELOPES
Pol Professional and Buslnees Men,
Furnished in large or small lota, with neatly
printed oomers, at a verysmal l advance on their
original coat. LARGE STOCK to seleot from.
OFFICE OF THE UNION.
Deo. 7.—tf. Towson. Md.
J. MAURICE WATKINS & SON.
—DKA.LMRB Ilf—
Staple, Fancy & Green Groceries
Fruits in season. Fresh and Salt Meats.
Full Une of Tobaooos, Foreign and Domestic
Cigars, Jto.
Sept. 12—ly TOWSON. Md.
TOWSON. MD., SATURDAY. OCTOBER 16. 1909.
In f
WANTED
1000 Orders
From your section
FOR
LUMBER and
MILL WORK
COMPO-BOARD.The
great substitute for
Lath and Plaster
J.L.6ILBERT & BRO. LUMBER CO,
East Falls & Eastern Aves.
Baltimore, Md.
The Balto. Co. Water & Elec. Go.
411 E. Baltimore St.
Both Phones Baltimore
Why swing a pump handle
when you can get
WATER
by merely opening a faucet
in your house
LET US SERVE YOU
The Balto. Co. Water & Elec. Co.
411 E. Baltimore St.
Both Phones Baltimore
E. SCOTT PAYNE CO.
362 and 364 N. Gay St.
Baltimore, Md.
BOTH PHONES:
St. Paul 1228 Courtland 267
HEADQUARTERS FOR
Bar Iron, Steel, Axles, Springs, Shafts,
Spokes, Rims, Hubs, Wheels, Wheel
Material, Horse Shoes, Horse Shoe
Pads, Horse Shoe Nails, Rubber Tires,
Rubber Tire Machines, Rubber Tire
Channels, etc.; Wheelwright Material.
A Full Line of Builders’ Hardware
HEADQUARTERS FOR
FIELD FENCE, LAWN SWIN6S, LAWN
MOWERS, LAWN SPRINKLERS,
At a big reduction. A postal card will
reach us.
E. Scott Payne Co.
362 and 364 North Gay Street,
Baltimore, Md.
GEORGE W. GRAMMER
GENERAL BLACKSMITH
WHEELWRIGHT
and COACHMAKER
Builds and Repairs Carriages and
Wagons of all Kinds
FUNERAL DIRECTOR and EMBALMER
Caskets always on band. First-class
service at moderate price. Carriages
furnished at the lowest prices and satis
faction guaranteed in every particular.
PUTTY HILL, Bel Air Road,
Fullerton Post Office, BaltimoreCo.,Md.
F. COOK
527 YORK ROAD
TOWSON.
DEALER IN
Boots, Shoes and
Rubbers, also Dry
Goods and Notions
shoe repairingleatly done
jj! Dr. J. Wm. Harrower ijj
SURGEON DENTIST ijj
jjj Washington and Allegany Avenues jtj
Towson, Md.
i-j Office Hours
jjj Daily, from 9A.M.t05 P. M. jjj
C. &P. Phone. Towson 131—R .
When Girls Wore Calico.
(By Hattie Whitney.)
There was a time, betwixt the days
Of linsey woolsey, straight and prim.
And these when mode, with despot ways.
Leads woman captive at its whim.
Yet not a hundred years ago.
When girls wore simple calico.
Within the barn, by lantern light.
Through many a reel, with flying feet,
The boys and maidens danced at night
To Addled measures, shrilly sweet;
And merry revels were they, though
The girls were gowned In calico.
Across the flooring rough and gray
The gold of scattered chaff was spread.
And long festoons of clover bay
That straggled from the loft o’erhead,
Swung scented fringes to and fro
O’er pretty girls In calico.
They used to goa-Maytng then.
The blossoms of the spring to seek
In sunny glade and sheltered glen,
Unweighed by fashion's latest freak;
And Robin fell in love. I know,
With Phyllis In her calico.
A tuck, a frill, a bias fold,
A hat curved over gipsy-wise.
And beads of coral and of gold.
And rosy cheeks and merry eyes.
Made lassieß in that long ago
Look charming in their calico.
The modern knight who loves a maid
Of gracious air and gentle grace.
And finds her oftentimes arrayed
In shining silk and priceless lace.
Would love her just as well, 1 know.
In pink and lilac calico.
Skeeter's Charge,
i From Munsev’s Magazine.)
“Skeeter,” they called him. The
roll book and paymaster's records
bore a different name; but no one
cared for that. “Skeeter” was so
comprehensive. Whisper the name
to a stranger, and he would unhesitat
ingly pick out this lank soldier with
a handful of freckles spilled on his
face and a shock of red hair rioting
above them.
These were his outward markings.
Inwardly, he was consipcuous for a
spirit of deviltry and a thirst like
unto the deserts sands. His efforts
to extinguish this torment with cheap
whisky kept him in perpetual disre
pute with the officers, and in their
eyes he possessed but one redeeming
feature —he could make a bugle
speak like a thing of life; and his
bugle was about the only thing he
would not pawn for whisky.
But little cared Skeeter for their
opinion. He held shoulder straps
in contempt, and bestowed his friend
ship upon a slouching young Sioux
brave known on the nearby reserva
tion as “Little Fox,” and who seemed
consumed by the same raging thirst
for fire water. But Skeeter’s deity
was Alice Gilbert, the major’s niece,
who had come out from that myster
ious boume known on the frontier as
“the States” to keep house for her
bachelor brother, owner of the Circle-
X ranch, over in Cougar Valley.
She had interceded for him one day
when he was in disgrace for providing
Little Fox with a quantity of fiery
liquor and for having poured double
that amount down his own parched
throat. Once he gave a loafer at the
canteen a terrible beating because of
a slighting remark made concerning
the girl, and though he was given a
guard house sentence for "conduct
unbecoming a soldier” he did his
term cheerfully, and steadfastly re
fused to tell the cause of the brawl.
October came, and there was un
easiness, ever increasing, in the fort—
a small post tucked down among ths
foothills of eastern Montana. Rumors
of restlessness among the Sioux were
floating in. White faced ranchers
came hurrying into the fort with the
news; at the midnight hour the
cavalry scouts returning from the
camps thundered at the gates and re
ported that the reds were beginning
the ghost dance.
From out of the Northwest strange
Indians had come, preaching a doc
trine of frenzy. A new Messiah was
to appear among them; the dust of
countless thousands of dead Indians
was suddenly to spring to life, the
palefaces would be swept from the
earth, and the buffalo and the hunt
ing grounds would be restored to the
red men- The major’s face was
seamed with anxiety. His garrison
of three troops of horse was but a
handful compared to the savage
hordes whose mutterings were con
stantly in his ears. He pleaded with
hiß nephew to take refuge in the fort,
but the young man said, “Not yet.”
He must look after his cattle. And
Alice? She smiled bravely and de
clined to leave her brother.
Day and night the ghost dance
went on. The Indians became
bolder and more threatening. Bands
of young braves broke away from the
reservation and took to the Bad
Lands. Ranchers and army officers
frantically bombarded Washington
with telegrams, urging that strong
reinforcements be hurried to the post.
Washington yawned over her tea
tables, and in the rythm of the waltz
the bureau chiefs, who had never
seen the paint on an Indian, frowned
and cursed the “timid weaklings.”
Far out on the frontier the officers
gathered at headquarters each night
and, long after “taps” had sounded,
watched with gloomy forebodings
the signal fires that blazed from the
summits of distant buttes.
The sun was hanging, blood red,
low down the western sky, and a
haze drifting down from the forest
fires in the mountains dulled the tints
of the cottonwood leaves kissed by
the breath of October into crimson
and golden glory.
Skeeter was splitting wood under
guard, the while his head ached
terribly from the last carousal. He
whistled at his work, and even joked
with his guard, for that was to be his
last day of servitude. The guard
book said he had two more days to
serve, but the wiry little trooper had
different plans.
During this last debauch, he and
Little Fox had planned a glorious
future. They were to meet that very
night at Big Boulder. They had
radiantly pictured their life among
the crags and streams of the Rockies,
hunting, fishing, and trapping, re
turning to a settlement at long in
tervals to renew the supply of whisky
and other necessities. The sentence
had been extra severe that time, but
Skeeter had been too frequently in
the guard house not to know away
of escape.
When the “tattoo” inspection was
made that night there was chagrin
galore at guard headquarters. Skeeter
was absent. His horse also was
missing. Half an hour later a soli
tary rider far out on the plain drew
rein and listened as the faint sound
of a cavalry bugle came to him in a
sadly sweet strain, sounding "taps.”
He chuckled as he rode on. His own
good horse was beneath him, a car
bine was in its holster, a brace of
pistols swung at his hips, and, best
of all, at his side hung his well loved
bugle.
A feeble moon struggled for a time
with the haze and darkness and then
disappeared; but Skeeter could have
made the journey blindfolded, so in
due time he reached Big Boulder.
Sitting motionless in his saddle, he
waited a moment, then hooted like
an owl. Thirce the dolorous notes
sounded. Only silence followed.
Muttering a curse, Skeeter dis
mounted and sat down on a boulder.
“Skeet!”
The voice was not an arm’s length
away and the deserter sprang to his
feet, pistol in hand, and peered into
the darkfless* Then came the low
hoot of an owl, and his hand left his
weapon.
“Ye red devil, where are ye?” he
demanded.
A figure rose beside him.
“Little Fox here!”
The trooper detected a pompous
note that was new in the Indian’s
voice.
“Well, if it wasn’t fer this derned
smoke I c’d a seen ye, all right,” he
growled.
“Smoke heap worse tomorrow,”
was the reponse.
“What d’ye mean, Fox?’’
He made a sudden step toward
his companion, but the Sioux darted
away.
“We ride,” he said simply, and a
moment later was astride his pony,
trotting up the canyon, leaving the
soldier to mount and follow at will.
For an hour they rode, practically
in silence, the Indian leading and
defeating every plan of the deserter
to draw from him an explanation.
They had decided on a certain spring
as a camping place until daylight,
well knowing that they were safe
from pursuit, as the officers would
expect Skeeter to return of his own
free will, as he had done so often
before.
It was near midnight when the
strangely matched pair picketed their
horses and started a small fire. As
the blaze leaped up it revealed the
form of Little Fox drawn up to his
fullest height, arms folded, dressed
in the hideous ghost dance shirt and
leggings, while daubs of red and yel
low paint gave to his face the appear
ance of a fiend.
The trooper sprang to his feet, stood
staring at the Indian in astonishment.
“Darn ye, what does it mean—
them togs?” he demanded, pointing
to the emblem of the red Messiah.
“Little Fox join his brothers.
Great Spirit say to red man, ‘Kill
palefaces—burn ranch houses—red
man come back from happy hunting
ground and bring with him buffalo.
All belong to red man. ’ Great Spirit
speaks and Little Fox hears.’'
His voice with its boastful tone
rose to a chanting cadence; his arms
were uplifted, his body swayed, as
the fire of fanaticism swept him.
“So ye’re goin’ to join them mur
derin’ devils, are ye?” There was a
threat in his tone.
“Great Spirit call, red man hear.
‘Dig up hatchet and kill all pale
faces!' Skeet go with Little Fox—
paint face— dance to Great Spirit—
be red man—when buffalo come back
we hunt —no hide in mountains.”
The soldier’s impulse was to shoot
him where he stood, but he shrank
from the deed.
“When is it to take place?” he
asked.
The Indian again flung out his
arms, his body swayed, and a weird,
droning chant came from his lips.
Then he paused.
“The time here,” he said. “To
night give signal. Braves burn and
kill. Tonight—tonight!”
Skeeter felt the blood leave his
face as he asked:
“And the signal?”
“Three heap fires on Eagle Butte
when the night half dead. You go?”
“I think I will, but let’s take a
drink.”
He handed the canteen to Little
Fox, who seized it and gulped down
a quantity of the liquor, then handed
it back.
The soldier placed the canteen to
his lips and tilted it toward the sky,
but his tongue was pressed against
the canteen mouth and not a drop
passed it. His throat and lips were
parched, but not from thirst.
He passed the canteen back to the
Sioux and again and again urged him
to drink, keeping up his own sham.
Little Fox soon showed the effects of
the whisky. He slashed his arms
with his hunting knife and laughed
at the blood; he chanted of the
Great Spirit’s message; he gloated
over the tempest of depth that was
to sweep the hated palefaces off the
earth. Then suddenly he sprang to
his feet,his face working convulsively,
the very picture of a demon as Been
by the camp fire’s glow.
“Look!”
He pointed to the southward, but
the motion was unnecessary. The
trooper had kept his gaze thitherward
ever since the story of the signal.
And a pillar of flame shot up from
the summit of Eagle Butte. A
minute passed—hours to the soldier
standing with clinched jaws, peering
out across the waste of rocks and
alkali,every nerve at highest tension—
and then another column of fire
burned its way into the night,followed
closely by a third.
Again the swaying form of the
Indian circled about the fire, chant
ing and boasting of the deeds of blood
that were to follow.
Skeeter’s voice sounded hoarse and
deep in his throat as he turned his
THE UNION ESTABLISHED 18501
THE NEWS ESTABLISHED 1905$
back on Eagle Butte and urged the f
Sioux to drink, drink, drink. He
joined in the dance and told of scalps <
he would take, pausing only to con
tinue his pretense of drinking, and to <
press the whisky on the painted <
fiend at his side.
Little Fox was growing stupid <
from the liquor and the dance. The
trooper fell by the fire, apparently
unconscious; a moment later the 1
Indian was also down, but he still 1
chanted. Half an hour passed; the
camp fire died out, a coyote wailed >
from a nearby hill. The signal fires
on Eagle Butte were burning lower, i
Little Fox was senseless.
Rising cautiously, Skeeter bent
over the form of the Indian, and
again the impulse came to bury .his i
knife in the treacherous heart; but he :
turned away, and in a few minutes
was in the saddle and riding away,
leading the Indian’s horse.
It was pitch dark, but he rode at :
a sharp trot back over the trail he had
come, toward the post, to join the
men of his blood. The mouth of the
canyon was reached. As he struck
out across the plain he urged his
horse to greater speed, pictured to
himself the scene at the major’s
headquarters when he should report
the signal and its meaning. The
major’s first act would be to dictate
a message to Washington, he told
himself, and the major’s next act
would be to order Skeeter placed in
chains. He smiled at the thought.
Then he pulled rein sharply. An
other thought had come to him. What
of Alice Gilbert at the Circle-X ranch
over in Cougar Valley? He turned
his horse’s head and galloped off to
the left. The fort must wait. His
first duty was in Cougar Valley.
The night was waning, already he
could see the first paleness in the
eastern sky that heralded the ap
proach of dawn. In an hour it
would be light. He still lead the
Indian’s pony, and with the free end
of the picket rope he struck his mount,
urging it forward. A pallor crept
through the tan of his cheeks. The
faint report of firearms came from the
direction of the Circle-X. He paused
in indeoision. The fort was five
miles away. If the Indians had al
ready attacked the ranch, it was
doubtful if he could reach the post in
time to secure assistance. But the
fight, if such it was, might not be at
the Circle-X. He rode forward.
Ten minutes later and his teeth
clicked together. He could see the
outbuildings of the ranch in flamee,
the spiteful crack of the Winchesters
showed that the fight was on in
earnest. At the brow of the hill he
dismounted, crept forward to the
shelter of a pile of rocks, and care
fully scanned the scene below, noting
with satisfaction that it was but a
small band that had swooped down
on the place.
The firing from the house was
steady, but pitifully weak, so that it
was only a question of a very brief
time until the reds would rush the
place and butcher the defenders.
Something very like a sob escaped the
trooper as he crouched there and
realized his helplessness. No horse
flesh could bring succor from the fort
in time. In half an hour the story
would be ended, the mangled bodies
of the people of the ranch would be
burning in the house that had shelt
ered them. Even as the thought
flashed through his brain a firebrand
hurtled through the air and fell on
the roof of the house. In a moment
the dry boards were ablaze.
There rose before him the sweet
face of Alice Gilbert. He heard her
pleading with the major for the
drunken bugler; he saw her as she
stood by his sick bed, tender, gra
cious, a divinity. He saw her as the
Sioux battered down the doors
and butchered the men. He saw
her as the bloody demons with
the lusts of hell in their breasts sur
rounded her.
“Oh, God!”
It was a moaning prayer from lips
that had never known prayer.
He sprang to his feet and rushed
back to his horse. His blood was
liquid fire, his brain a seething whirl.
With a bound he was in the saddle,
his bugle went to his lips, and the
next instant the thrilling notes of
“the charge” were ringing. Then he
sank his spurs in his horse’s flanks
and dashed forward, the Indian’s
pony following. They swept over
the brow of the hill in a thundering
gallop, and then straight for the
surprised horde of Sioux he rode in
the half dawn, guiding the well
trained cavalry horse with his knees
and pouring in a rapkl fire from a
pistol clutched in his right hand,while
with his left he preseed the bugle to
his lips, and again and again its
fierce notes rang out. The Sioux
paused, bewildered. A cheer came
from the house and the firing was
quickened.
“The charge! The charge!’’sound
ed the bugle. The hostiles had
heard the call before, doubted not
that a detachment of “long knives”
was upon them. As they hesitated
I the Winchesters in the ranch house
’ wrought death in their midst, and
they wheeled their ponies and dashed
away, sending a final volley back
towards that shrieking trumpet, a
volley that caused the lone trooper
to drop his pistol and clutch at his
breast. The notes of the bugle broke
to a splutter as he reeled from the
saddle.
When he opened his eyes Alice
Gilbert and the men of the ranch
were bending over him; one was
forcing whisky down his throat. He
■ twisted his head aside.
“Take that damned—stuff— away;
! give me water!” he gasped.
, “Where’s the troop?” was the
anxious query.
He looked at them stupidly a
• moment. Then he smiled.
“The troop? I’m the troop.”
[ “Then things became confused, a
delirium came over him, and they
l bore him toward the house- With
j. the strength of fevered frenzy he
(’onsolidateil 1900
seized the bugle again and once more
"the charge” was sounded clear as of
old.
Then the wounded man’s arm
dropped. In an instant he was
clutching at those who bore him.
“God! D’ye hear that?” he ex
claimed.
They paused a moment in silence.
Then from far out on the plains came
the faint silvery notes of a cavalry
bugle.
"They’re cornin’,” he whispered,
and fainted.
Ten or fifteen minutes later the
troop pounded up to the ranch, the
major at their head.
"We would have been too late had
it not been for Skeeter’s charge,” he
said caressing the shock of red hair
resting on the snowy pillow.
The post surgeon coaxed the
trooper back to health without the
aid of whisky, and now when the
autumn haze drifts down from the
mountains and the Sioux grow rest
less, the officers and men of the post
recount the tale of the most thrilling
temperance lecture known, and of the
daring courage of Skeeter’s charge.
Girls' Manners in the Forties.
(From T. P.’s Weekly.)
I chanced the other day in a dusty
corner of a forgotten cupboard upon
a volume bound in hard and lepulsive
green cloth with the title,"The Young
Lady’s Friend; a Manual of Practi
cal Advice and Instruction to Young
Females on Their Entering Upon the
Duties of Life after Quitting School.”
The date was 1845 and the author
"A Lady.” I read most of the
volume, but I was not so much
amused as I had anticipated. There
was a certain fragrance about the
book; it was very prim certainly,
but now and then it was the primness
of an old-fashioned herb garden.
The exercises recommended for
“young ladies from 15 to 18” were
astonishingly mild, and these could
only be indulged in with propriety
"if arrangements were made for the
purpose.’’ You might play bowls
("with small and light balls to
suit their little hands”), battledore,
“the grace’’(whatever game that was)
and, of all queer things, quoits.
You might walk, too, if you
walked with an object—to study
botany or mineralogy. One wonders
what this amiable instructress would
have thought of our hockey and gym
nasium girls. On the matter of in
door exercise I chanced upon this
singular sentence.
“Making a bed is such very good
exercise of the whole body that it is
often prescribed by physicians to
young ladies in high life who are
suffering from want of sufficient
bodily exertion, and many a titled
body has been condemned to share
the labors of the housemaid in order
to bring back the color to her faded
cheek and improve the play, of her
lungs.” Is the bedmaking cure
still recommended? By the way,
even the “titled ladies” who brood
persistently over every page of this
book had to know how to apply
leeches in that age of blood letting,
and if they didn’t like them they were
eqhorted to remember that "although
their office is an unpleasant one to
our imagination it is their proper
calling.” Here indeed is the profes
sional leech!’’
The table manners consist mainly
in not refusing dishes, whether you
like them or not. Before dinner in
the drawing room, which you must
enter “with erect carriage and firm
step,” “a child, a picture, an ani
mal, a worked ottoman, a bunch
of flowers, may furnish topics for
conversation.” Have we got beyond
that yet? If you are asked to drink
wine "do not refuse because that is a
rebuff, but accept the challenge gra
ciously: choose one of the wines
named to you, and your glass being
something less than half filled, look
full at the gentleman you are to
drink with, then drop your eyes as
you bow your head to him and
lift the glass to your lips, whether you
drink a drop or not. If challenged
a second time, accept and have a drop
added to your glass and bow as be
fore.”
Why Big Trees Are Big.
The magnificent forests of Douglas
fir in Washington—it is called Wash
ington fir there and Oregon fir (its
commercial name) in Oregon—do not
have an equal anywhere else in the
world. This is not surprising if we
take into account the rainfall, which
in the Puget Sound country is about
fifty-three inches, while up in the high
er Cascades near Seattle it is 100
inches and even reaches 150 inches.
Under such climatic conditions the
seeds of trees germinate readily and
all trees continue to make a vigorous
growth. These great forests, says
Horticulture, are due to the climatic
conditions of the region.
On the east slope of the Cascades
the rainfall is much less, and here the
bull pine is found, interspersed with
beautiful white pines which some
times reaches a height of 200 feet and
a diameter of 6 feet, although there
are many trees over 100 feet high and
3or 4 feet in diameter. The tree re
sembles our Eastern white pine, but
is more slender and with slender
spreading or somewhat drooping
branches.
A Big Cornfield.
(From the Baltimore Produce Keport.)
The biggest cornfield in the State
of Kentucky is now laid by. It is a
field outlined by the gigantic horse
shoe sweep of the Ohio river from
Henderson around past Evansville
to Green River. It is considered the
largest because it is corn continuously
for 6,000 or 7,000 acres, unbroken by
fences, unrelieved by any other crop
no hay, oats or wheat— just corn,
corn, corn, and then more corn.
It is estimated that over 300,000
bushels of corn will be raised in this
monster tract this year.

xml | txt