Full text of "The young newspaper scout. An interesting narrative of a boy's adventures in the Northwest during the Riel rebellion"

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A BRUSH WITH THE HALF-BREEDS.

YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

An interesting narrative of a boy's
ventures in. the Northwest di_iring
the Riel Rebellion.

KORREST CRISSEY.

Author of "A LOD1 GIRL," "THE YOUNG EXPLORER,'

FTC

1 1 V_y

CHICAOO:

\V. B. CONKIKY

1895.

THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY

359709B

ASTOB, LEN3X AND
Oi-Ut F eg

by
MID-CONTINENT PUBLISHING COMPANY.

by
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY.

PREFACE.

r T^HIS book is written by the author in the belief
1 that boys enjoy best those stories which are
truest to real life in characters, plot and coloring.
It has seemed to him that their interest in a " hero"
who has the faults and limitations of "a good average
boy," acting under environments of ordinary impor-
tance and probability, is keener than in an impossible
prodigy of juvenile wisdom and courage who finds
himself in a complex tangle of stupendous difficulties,
from which he frees himself by a series of daring
adventures sufficiently melodramic to appal the
"heavy villain" in a third-rate tragedy.

The boy who has a single real adventure, in the
usual juvenile acceptance of the term, is a rare
exception, for in outward circumstance and perils
most boyhoods are commonplace enough. What,
then, shall be said of the books which picture their
boy heroes as suffering from an epidemic a veritible
cholera-infantum of material perils? Certainly they
are not true pictures of boy life as an average, or
even as an average of reasonable exceptions.

It is to be doubted whether the time has come
when the mass of story-reading American boys can

4 PREFACE.

be vitally and surely interested in a true picture of
"average "boyhood; but the author does believe that
boy readers are bright and keen enough to derive
greater pleasure from the account of the struggles
of a boy of only average qualities against odds and
obstacles of reasonable number and difficulty, than
from the narrative of the "adventures" of a boy of
impossible virtues, triumphing over perils which,
both in character and number, could in no human
probability have surrounded one boy in ten-thousand.

The author does not imagine that he has given
in the following pages a true picture of the vicissi-
tudes of an average boyhood; but he hopes that the
adventures of "The Young Newspaper Scout/' are
fairly representative of the character, perils and
triumphs of the "average of exceptions" which lift
the lives of frontier boys from the lines of uniform
common place in which the careers of most boys are
spent. He is at least confident that his readers will
not find a single "situation" in the following story
which is not justified by reasonable probability.
More than that, he believes that the same justifica-
tion of probability will apply to the story as a whole,
both in the environments and situations with which
Rodney found himself surrounded and in the action
which they called forth.

Geneva, 111. F. C.

CONTENTS.

CHAP. PAGE

I. IN DESPERATE STRAITS 9

II. ANEW HOPE U

III. FORTUNE OF WAR 26

IV. PROUD PREPARATIONS 33

V, A BRUSH WITH THE HALF-BREEDS 40

VI. A FIERCE BATTLE AT FISH CREEK 52

VII. THE LOST CHILD 64

VIII. A FORAGING EXPEDITION 77

IX. AN INDIAN AMBUSH 92

X. UNDER DOUBLE FIRE 101

XI. CAMP SCENES 109

XII. THE ROUT OF THE REBELS 117

XIII. IN AT THE CAPTURE 127

XIV. ON THE TRAIL OF BIG BEAR 134

XV. THE CACHE 143

XVI. THE NIGHT ALARM 153

XVII. THE RETURN 162

XVIII. AN INDEPENDENT VENTURE 170

XIX. A SMALL FOOTING 179

XX. A GREAT TRIUMPH 188

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

A BRUSH WITH THE HALF-BREEDS Frontispiece.

RESCUE OF THE LOST CHILD 72

THE FORAGING EXPEDITION 90

" HANDS UP!" 124

PINK-EYE'S REVENGE 141

THE GREAT FIND 147

THE CAMP SCENE ON THE TRAIL OF BIG BEAR 159

RODNEY SHOWS HIS MOTHER OLD PINK-EYE AND HIS

RIFLE AND SADDLE 169

RODNEY AND THE CHICAGO NEWSBOYS 177

"DEAR SIR COME AT ONCE; WILL PAY YOU $200 AND

EXPENSES" . 192

CHAPTER I,

IN DESPERATE STRAITS.

IT was almost sunset of a^ April day in 1885, when
Rodney Merton came again in sight of Ft. Qu'Ap-
pelle, after the first nights of absence from home that
he had ever experienced. He had left his mother's
cabin early Monday morning and it was now Wednes-
day. His eyes brightened as he stopped in the mid-
dle of the dusty road and gazed at the little hamlet,
with its old log fort surrounded by a high palisade,
the new post of the Hudson Bay Company and a
cluster of cabins.

Now that he was once more in sight of home
which he mentally declared had never " looked so
good" to him before he felt that he could afford
to sit down and rest for a few minutes. This was a
luxury which he had allowed himself but few times
during the two day's tramp from Grenfell, a distance
of thirty-five miles from Ft. Qu'Appelle. His coat
was hung on the end of a stick, carried over his
shoulder, and his calico shirt was dark and wet with
perspiration along the lines of his buckskin sus-
penders and wherever it touched his heated body,
for it was the first really warm day of the late spring.

As the boy turned out of the road and climed a

IO THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

little knoll, which commanded a better view of the
town, his steps were slow and dragging, and he
frequently pressed his right hand upon his knee, as
though his tired legs, which had become sore and
aching with the long walk, were unequal to the task
ot carrying him to the summit of the rise.

Dropping upon the ground under the flickering
shade of a Balm of Gilead, he stretched out at full
length, and with an involuntary sigh of relief, pulled
the smooth-worn visor of his home-made fur cap
down over his eyes, and lay for a time in motionless
repose.

Not until a kingfisher rattled his harsh challenge
and dove, from the limb of a dead tree down into
the still water of the Qu'Appelle river, did Rodney
stir. The guilty terror in which he started up, just
as the bird splashed into the water and rose with a
small fish in its mouth, would have convicted him
of having been asleep, even though he had not
rubbed his eyes and yawned. Then he sat for a
moment, with his elbows on his knees and his chin
in his hands, looking dreamily at the shimmering
river and the little trading post where his whole life
had been spent.

His return from this first solitary journey into the
world seemed a greater event to him, after his three
days absence, than home-coming from years of
foreign travel lias seemed to many an adult. He
wondered what had happened while he had been
away and what his mother and the boys about the
fort would say to him.

IN DESPERATE STRAITS. II

If the object of his expedition to Grenfell had
only proved successful he would have felt like a
conquering hero, returning to his native town, ready
to receive the admiration and the applause of the
inhabitants.

But absolute and hopeless failure had been his lot
and he felt like sneaking unnoticed around behind
the fort and post to his mother's cabin, instead of
taking the main street. He did not, however, long
entertain this suggestion, for the thought of doing
anything underhanded or sneaking went very much
"against the grain" and made him suffer severely
from remorse and self-contempt wherever he yielded
to such an impulse.

After a few moments of gloomy meditation,
Rodney aroused himself, drew from his pocket a
Winnepeg paper and re-read, for the third time, the
account of the Duck Lake massacre in which the
Half Breeds and Indians had inaugurated the Riel
Rebellion. It was a bloody protest against wrongs
which bore heavily upon nearly every poor family in
the Saskatchewan and Qu'Appelle Valleys, and
especially upon Rodney Merton and his weary over-
worked mother.

Some years before, Thomas Merton, along with a
few other hardy and courageous pioneers, had come
to the valley and settled upon Government land, in
the full faith that, by enduring the hardships and
privations necessary in reclaiming the wilderness, he
might secure a comfortable home for himself, 'n his
old age and for his family. He and his companions

12 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

had, worked early and late in this hope, only to find,
after fifteen years of unrelaxed struggle, that the
Government still refused them the titles to their
homesteads. Here Rodney had been born. He
began early to share the hard labor and the priva-
tions of pioneering and had grown up to the age of
fifteen. Discouragement, resulting from the convic-
tion that they would never have their home "free,"
and the exposure to the extremes of the severe
climate broke down Thomas Merton's courage and
health. After a lingering illness, which had lasted
through the winter, he died, leaving Mrs. Merton and
Rodney to finish the hopeless struggle for a home as
best they might.

During previous winters, Rodney had been under
the instruction of the local priest and had made rapid
advancement in studies of which most boys of his
age knew little or nothing; but this fall he had been
obliged by his father's illness to do almost a man's
work. In addition to cutting the wood and doing all
of the chores, he had managed to keep quite a suc-
cessful string of traps in operation, and when he drew
his pack of pelts on his hand-sled,' down to the
Hudson Bay post it seemed almost large enough to
buy out the whole stock.

But as Leveque the local agent in charge, told
him that there were forty dollars due the company
from his father, after crediting up the furs, he went
home with a heavy heart.

"We've got to pay it off some way, even if you
have to work it out," his mother had said, in the

IN DESPERATE STRAITS. 13

hopeless tone in which she had come to voice her
few words.

"All right, Ma I'll do it if Leveque will take me
in," Rodney had promptly replied. This was fol-
lowed by offering his services to Leveque, who kept
the boy during the busy season, until the family ac-
count was settled. Then he told Rodney that he
did not need his help longer and that in the future
Mrs. Merton would be obliged to pay for whatever
supplies she wished to buy.

Hard times began in earnest after this dismissal,
and it was by only the most patient industry and
persistent watchfulness that Rodney contrived to
keep his mother and himself in food. When the last
hope of obtaining employment near home was gone,
he had bravely set out to look for work of any kind
in Grenfell.

Now he was returning, after having met with
unvaried failures and rebuffs.

CHAPTER II.

A NEW HOPE.

AFTER thinking these matters all over again,
Rodney, picked up his coat and stick and
again resumed his journey.

He had walked but a few rods when a boyish
whoop burst from his lips at the sight of the tents
of the regular troops, on the side of the river op-
posite the town, which had before been shut off from
his view by a strip of timber.

As he approached past the old fort, he noticed
that it was occupied.

A group of smaller boys were crowding about
the entrance to the stockade and staring at the men
inside.

" Who are they? ' Rodney inquired of the spell-
bound youngsters.

"Scouts! ' was the whispered answer, from half
a dozen of the awed half-breed children.

Not until- then had he realiz-ed that he was in
the presence of war. The fighting at Duck Lake
had seemed very far off in the cold newspaper type.
It' made his blood leap to watch the scouts cleaning
their " Snyders ' and revolvers; and he found him-
self wishing that he might enlist with them.

But as he turned away from this fascinating sight

A NEW HOPE. 15

and continued his homeward walk the thought,
which had not occurred to him while watching the
scouts, flashed through his mind; they were his en-
emies, fighting to continue the oppression which
had broken down his father and which promised to
turn his mother and himself from the home for
which his father sacrificed health and life itself. If
he were to join either side it must be that of the
settlers. He would talk it over with his mother that
night. If he could only enlist as a drummer boy or
" something of that kind," his pay would support
his mother, and he might win promotion by his
bravery. Then when the war was over and the fol-
lowers of Kiel were victorious, he would be given a
position as captain of the mounted police. He was
picturing to himself how he would look entering the
through-train from the east, demanding satchel keys
from unwilling passengers, and ordering his men to
" go through " the baggage and search the suspicious
characters for smuggled liquor and goods. He could
even hear the imaginary clink of glass flasks as his
subordinates dashed, them out of the windows and
shattered them upon the ground.

"Look out! Want to run right over a lot of us
small folks!" good-naturedly exclaimed a genial
loafer, whose tilted chair, in front of the post, Rod-
ney had almost overturned in his heedless course.

Rodney blushed and stammered his apologies
while the hangers-on joined in the laugh.

"Well; what luck?" asked Leveque, who came to

the door behind an out-going customer.
2

1 6 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT,

Rodney simply shook his head.

"Eh-ha! sorry!" meditatively grunted the agent,
as Rodney passed on up the hill toward home, think-
ing- that if Leveque were really very sorry he would
give him work.

As Rodney came around the corner of the cabin,
Mrs. Merton was dipping spoonfuls of yellow corn-
meal dough from an old basin on to the board which
lay in front of a populous hen coop, and stood
watching the downy balls of chickenhood as they
picked impotently at the wet meal in imitation of
the coaxing mother hen, which set them a noisy and
excited example.

She started at the sound of his quiet approach,
pushed back her sun-bonnet, and smiled for almost
the first time that he could remember since his fath-
er's death.

"Well; ma!" he exclaimed, as he came awkwardly
and almost bashfully toward her, wondering whether
or not she would kiss him. He was going to ask:
"Did I scare you?" but he did not have time before
she dropped the basin and spoon, and without say-
ing a word kissed him impulsively.

There followed amoment of embarrassing silence,
which was finally relieved by Rodney, as he picked
up the fallen basin and rapped its edge, with a
startling bang against the board in front of the coop.

"Well? 1 ' said his mother, in the hopeless tone
which plainly impJied "I know the worst has hap-
pened."

"No; I didn't get anything to do, ma. But 1

A NEW HOPE. T7

guess it'll come out all right, somehow. Anyway
they've had an awful fight at Duck Lake, and Kiel's
men cleaned out everything. I brought you a Win-
nipeg paper that's got all about it in."

Mrs. Merton looked at him in dazed astonish-
ment, wondering what he could possibly mean by
connecting the news of the bloody outbreak with
the hope that their hard fortunes would finally mend.

"Have't you heard about it, yet? Why the old
fort's full of scouts now."

"Yes, I heard they'd ben a fight, but I don't see
what that's got to do with it," replied Mrs. Merton.

Seeing that the time was not yet ripe to discuss
the daring project of joining the Rebels as a drum-
mer boy, Rodney made no reply, but went to the
spring to wash. Mrs. Merton quickly resumed her
usual manner and said:

"Supper's ready what they is of it."

The startling expression of affection into which
Mrs. Merton's emotions had betrayed her, on seeing
her boy safely home again and the hopeless and
almost ironical suggestion in regard to the meager
limitations of the supper affected the boy more
keenly than any other words he had ever heard.
The latter aroused him to the realization that they
were in desperate need for the common necessities
of life, while the caress awakened an intense and
active love for his mother that he had not been con-
scious of before. A painful sense of the pitiful mis-
ery and loneliness of her life and the patient en-
durance with which she met each day of its weary

1 8 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

and hopeless continuance came over him. A new
purpose and courage took possession of him. He
would not only take heart himself and in some way
keep her from w r ant and get the homestead clear,
but he would have courage for both her and himself
and make her feel that she was going to be taken
care of. As they sat down to supper Rodney said:

"Ma, don't you 'spose that Riel has scouts just
the same as the Government has?"

" 'Course. I sh'd think so, anyway. Don't the
paper tell?" she answered, absently.

After a moment's reflection, she added:

"Why?"

"Oh! nothing; only I just heard one of 'em tel-
ling old 'Two-cent' that the Government paid 'em
five dollars a day and furnished their rifles an'
rations."

"Goodness! Well, if Riel does that he might
better take the money that it costs an' buy the set-
tlers' claims for 'em, outright. He might a good
deal better never have begun the fight, anyway.
'Taint no use, an' everybody'll be poorer an' worse
off when it's over; an' there'll be more widows an'
hungry children in these valleys than they is now.
It would be a mercy all 'round, if Riel should be
captured an' the whole thing ended before it goes
any further."

This suggested a new line of thought to the
young would-be Rebel scout and he said no more
until the evening meal was finished and he picked
up his hat from the door step.

A NEW HOPE. 19

"Ma! I'm going down by the fort. Mebby I can
pick up some odd jobs or errands to do for the sol-
diers."

Mrs. Merton offered no objections to this, and he
slipped out of the door and scampered down the
hill to where the scouts were quartered.

His flying feet were left far behind by the speed
of his thoughts. If his mother's view of the rebellion
was right and he had never before thought to ques-
tion the correctness of her moral judgment it might
be right to get some kind of a place with the govern-
ment scouts, for if the rebellion was bound to end
in defeat for the settlers, and it was a mercy to
bring it to such an end as quickly as possible, why
should it not be right for him to contribute to help
bring about such an end by joining the government
forces?

But against this line of reasoning came up the
memory of his father, the injustice he had suffered,
and the desperate resentment against such oppres-
sion, which had grown more bitter with every year
of his life.

The boy's heart gave a quick leap at the inward
question: If father were alive upon which side would
he fight?

Rodney could not evade the answer: With Riel.

By the time he had joined the men and boys in
front of the post, his mind was a confusion of con-
flicting theories, in which the thought of finding an
errand to do was entirely lost. At one moment duty
and honor seemed to forbid him, in spite of his

20 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

mother's hopeless view of the struggle, to do any-
thing that might identify himself with those who
had oppressed his father and neighbors, or to hin-
der the possible triumph of the settlers. Then the
vivid recollection of his mother's words and of her
present needs would fully justify to him the most
active opposition to the Rebels of the Saskatchewan.

Without definitely settling the question, he re-
solved to ask old " Two-cent Tranquility," more
about the scouts.

He found the shrewd old shoemaker at his bench,
playing a lively tune upon the top of a scout's boot,
with his pegging hammer, while his fingers per-
formed that mysterious sleight by which the pegs
seemed to flow from his bench, through his mouth
into the awl holes in the tap.

Although the men, women and children of Ft.
Qu'appelle, who did not habitually speak French un-
varyingly, cheapened Toussaint Tranquilite's name
into "Two-cent Tranquility," they held the old shoe-
maker in the highest esteem and regarded him as
not only a marvel of shrewd, practical common
sense, but second to the priest only in the wisdom
of books. He was a kind of village premier or
privy councilor for the majority of the inhabitants.
His kindly and companionable nature, and his keen
sense of fun extended his popularity to the children
of the hamlet and made him the sharer of, perhaps,
more of their secrets than any other adult person in
the village.

He nodded to Rodney and jerked his hammer

A NEW HOPE. 21

out in the direction of a leather-bottomed stool,
which Rodney took and waited until the cobbler's
lips were released from the mechanical duty of
holding pegs, and were set at liberty for conver-
sation.

"Well, my son, did you find anything to do?" in-
quired the shoemaker, as he deftly "stropped" his
thin, pliant knife-blade on the leather along the edge
of his bench and proceeded to pare the edges of
the tap.

"No, sir; nothing."

"Well, I wish you was a journeyman cobbler; so
I do! I'd give you plenty to do while the soldiers
are in camp here. Just look at that pile of boots
to be patched! Then I've got three pairs of fine
cavalry boots to make."

"But," he continued reflectively, as he rubbed
the edges of the tap with a small swab dipped in a
bottle of black stain; "it's a sorry thing all round!
A sorry thing, my son! It'll only make a bad matter
worse, for of course, every man who lives through
the fighting will be deprived of his rights and
property. No use for a man who has fought with
Kiel to stay round in these parts after this jig is over.
He'll stand no chance for anything."

This put matters in a new light with the boy, who
had not thought but what, if he should join Kiel's
forces and live through to see his side defeated, he
might return to peace on the same ground that he
had quitted it. This new consideration seemed al-
most to determine his future course, for he asked.

22 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"How much did you say the Government pays
those scouts?"

"Five dollars a day and found all but their
mount. That's a lot of money, son! Wish you
could get a job like that for awhile."

"Do you know how old they have to be?" asked
Rodney in a timid voice, as though he expected to
be reproved for the audacity of the thought which
his question would surely betray to the shoemaker.

"Twenty-one, of course. But you needn't think
for a minute that your mother would let you join.
She'd starve first."

This was what the boy had expected and he did
not have the courage to press his inquiry directly
in regard to the possibility of his securing a position
as drummer-boy, but said:

"Don't you 'spose there is something that a. hoy
could get to do for the scouts something that
mother might let me do?"

"Well, mebby. It wouldn't do any hurt to hang
around there a little. You might pick up chances to
run errands now and then. Those fellows are mighty
free with their money. It comes easy and goes easy.
Now you take those boots down to Cap'n. French an'
if he don't give you a tip, I'll make it right with you
myself. They're paid for."

Rodney took the boots by their straps and went
down towards the old fort with the elation which
comes of settled purpose.

He was admitted within the palisade but was
compelled to wait for Captain French, who was

A NEW HOPE. 23

engaged inside the fort. A group of scouts were
lounging about an open fire, story-telling, joking,
laughing and smoking, as though their prospective
dangers were mere bug-a-boos, and scouting the best
sport in the world.

He listened intently to what they were saying
and finally ventured nearer the group, that he might
miss nothing of their talk.

"Found a man yet? I should say not!" exclaimed
a young man who did not seem to have exactly a
soldierly air. ''An' I've got to get hold of some sort
of fellow who knows enough about this valley to
carry my dispatches without getting lost or cap-
tured. Every able-bodied man around here is either
with the rebels or getting a scout's pay from the
government. I' spose I could pick up a fairly good
man if the paper would allow me to spend that' price;
but it won't go over half that at the outside. If the
fighting begins right away, I'll have to take up with
half a man if I can't get a whole one. If I could
pick up some fellow who has hunted and trapped
along this river till he knows every crook and turn
of it and every read and town in the valley, he'd be
worth money to me, and I'd put in something out of
my own pocket, for I've just got a commission for
some special correspondence for the London papers,
an' I'd have this fellow act as a private scout as well
as to carry my dispatches to the wires."

Just then Captain French came up to Rodney,
glanced sharply at the bottoms of the boots and with
a "Well, my lad," handed out a quarter.

24 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

The delight which would otherwise have filled
Rodney's mind at this bit of good luck was dimmed
by the excitement of alternating hopes and fears
which confronted him, as he considered the possi-
bility of securing the position of private scout for
the newspaper man.

He would have hung about the campfire until the
group broke up, in the hope that he might find just
the right opportunity to speak for the place, but he
did not dare remain, now that his business was done.

He resolved to hasten back to the shoemaker,
put the matter before him, and ask his aid in secur-
ing the position. When he reached the shop he
found it closed. "Two-cent" was across the way, in
front of the post, giving the crowd the benefit of his
philosophy upon the situation. Rodney knew that
it was hopeless to attempt to secure a private audi-
ence with him that evening, for it was already get-
ting late. There was nothing more to do but to go
home and talk it over with his mother.

What a fortune even two dollars and a half a day
would be! And then if the newspaper man should
be willing, after awhile, to give something out of his
own pocket, that would be "too glorious for any-
thing!" Then he called to mind just how much and
how little he knew of the valley, and felt a tinge of
fear and disappointment as he realized that although
intimately familiar with the country for a few miles
immediately surrounding the fort, the valley as a
whole was comparatively unknown to him. He
was glad that he could say that he had been to

A NEW HOPE. 25

Grenfell. It might have considerable weight with
the man.

When he reached home his mother had gone to
bed; but she wakened sufficiently to ask:

" Did you get any errands to do?'

"Yes, 'm," he replied, "Captain French gave me
a quarter for bringing his boots from the shop."

His determination to talk over the newspaper-
scouting project with his mother weakened at the
sound of her hopeless voice and he resolved to con-
fer with the shoemaker and possibly to see if he
could get the place before saying anything to her
about it.

He did not realize how very tired the long
tramp from Grenfell and the excitement of the even-
ing had made him until he kicked his pants off on
the floor and stretched out, at full length, upon the
bed.

For some time his legs ached so that he could
not sleep; but his mind was so filled with the great
crisis of his career that he gradually lost conscious-
ness of his pain and finally sank to sleep in a splen-
did dream of really going to war.

CHAPTER III.

A FORTUNE OF WAR.

Rodney was awakened early by the drawling
crow of a neigbor's rooster, for the monarch of Mrs.
Merton's flock had long since been sacrificed to the
family necessity along with such of his feminine
followers as were not prompt in their daily contribu-
tions of eggs or engaged in rearing broods of chicks.

He bounded to the floor and was inside his pants
in less time than it takes the average boy to dress
for a circus, and with much the same feeling of in-
tense and joyous excitement which such an antici-
pation usually inspires in the juvenile mind.

He ate his breakfast of corn-cakes in silence,
and even neglected some of his chores in his haste
to see the shoemaker and secure his good offices
with the newspaper man.

The sight of the white canvas tents and stacks
of glistening arms of the "regular" troops, about
which a uniformed line of pickets were pacing to and
fro upon their beats, gave Rodney a more thrilling
sense of the actual presence of war than even scouts
had in their more unpretentious and plebeian dress
had inspired.

He leaped and ran with boyish abandon, not
slackening his speed until at the very door of the
shoemaker's shop.

"Why, what's the matter, son?" exclaimed u Two-

A FORTUNE OF WAR. 27

cent," as he saw the boy's agitation. "Anything
the matter with your mother?"

"No I I- -I just came to talk with you about
something that I had heard down at the camps last
night," stammered Rodney, panting and out of
breath.

"Well, out with it!" good-naturedly commanded
the cobbler, as he rolled a waxed-end upon his knee.

"There's a newspaper man down there with the
scouts who has been looking for some man who lives
about here and knows the valley, to carry dispatches
and act as his 'private scout,' as he called it. But he
hasn't found anybody yet, for he says that the men
in the valley who are not with Riel want to join
French's scouts and get their five dollars a day, and
his paper can't pay more'n half that. But he says
that he's got to have half a man if he can't find a
whole one, and that if he could get some one who
had hunted and trapped up an' down the river till he
knew the country like a book, he'd be willing to pay
something extra out of his own pocket. Do you
s'pose there's any chance for me if you helped
me, to get it? Don't you think that I might learn
how to do it?" Rodney timidly inquired.

"No, you can't learn! If he takes you at all it'll
be for what you already know an' don't have to
learn. There ain't any time for learning anything
except on the run. But there's one thing about it;
most of the fighting that these fellows will see is
going to be done right around these parts. I don't
see why you wouldn't answer his purpose as well as

28 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

somebody who would set heavier on a horse, eat
more an' be enough sight less gritty, honest an'
willing than you."

Praise was something that Rodney Merton had
known but little of; and these words from so impor-
tant a personage as "Two-cent Tranquility" made
the boys cheeks burn. This commendation gave
him courage to ask:

"Would you be willing to go down, this morning,
if it wouldn't be too much trouble, and see him
about it."

" 'Course, I'll go!" the cobbler almost snapped,
as though the request contained an implied insult.
"Didn't your father an' I summer and winter together
for years when this country was new; an' didn't we
always share up on anything an' everything that we
had when the other was short?"

As soon as he finished tipping the waxed-end
with a bristle, he hung it over a nail, took off his
leather apron and said:

"Well, come on."

They walked on towards the fort in silence, Rod-
ney being too much elated to trust himself to talk,
until they approached the entrance of the palisade,
when he ventured to ask:

Will you do do the talking, Mr. Tranquilite?"
Yes," laughed the shoemaker. "I always do
that too much of it, I'm afraid."

"Can we see the newspaper man, who wants to
engage a private scout?" boldly demanded "Two-
cent" of the guard.

> .
. .

A FORTUNE OF WAR.

"That's him, leaning against the door jam," re-
plied the guard, pointing to a slightly-built, but
graceful young man, who appeared to be about thirty
years of age. There was a certain fineness in the
whole cast of his face, and especially in his large
brown eyes, which was in rather striking contrast
with the broader and less expressive faces of the
scouts who came and went about him.

This expression of refinement gave the anxious,
shrinking boy an added hope that his application
would at least be given a kindly hearing.

"Good morning, sir," said the shoemaker, advanc-
ing toward the young correspondent, who returned
the cobbler's salutation with prompt and easy cour-
tesy, and the inquiry:

"And I may call you ah ?"

"Tranquilite - -Toussaint Tranquilite- - and this
young man is Rodney Merton. We heard that you
wanted to engage some one who is familiar with the
country about here."

"Quite right," nervously interrupted the news-
paper man. "My name is Gilroy of the Montreal
Post. I presume it is your father who wishes to apply
for the position?" he continued, glancing keenly
into Rodney's face.

"No, sir. I thought that that perhaps "

The shoemaker anticipated the apologetic ex-
planation which Rodney was about to offer, and cut
it short with the interruption:

" Not at all, sir! His father is dead, and he is now
the head of the family, which he has mainly sup-

30 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

ported by trapping, during the winter. If you don't
mind I'd like a word with you in private, an' then
I'll go back to the shop an' leave you to talk it over
with him."

"Certainly, Certainly," politely responded the
stranger, as they turned and walked away a few rods
from Rodney, who stood in nervous embarrassment,
awaiting the most important decision that he had yet
been called to face.

When the two men finished their private confer-
ence, in which the shoemaker praised the lad's
courage, intelligence and honesty, they came back
to where Rodney stood poking a gravel stone with
the big toe of his bare foot.

A glance at their faces told Rodney that a prob-
able decision had been reached, but he could hardly
determine whether it was favorable or unfavorable.

"Oh, one thing more!" exclaimed Gilroy, as Rod-
ney's sponsor was about to take his leave. "What
about price? How much do you think our young
friend should have? I can pay a fair price, but, of
course, there's nothing fancy in it."

"No, I suppose not," reflected Tranquilite. "Un-
der the circumstances I should say that the lad
ought to be worth a good three dollars a day to you,
if he does as well as a man."

"Well, perhaps," was the correspondent's equiv-
ocal answer, as he nodded good-bye to the man and
turned his keen eyes upon the boy. For several
moments he said nothing, but stood stroking his
moustache in deliberation.

A FORTUNE OF WAR, 31

"And so you think that you want a little of the
fortunes of war, do you?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are not forgetting that you will be exposed
to practically the same dangers that these govern-
ment scouts are, and that they are sent into the most
exposed positions doing flanking and out post duty
in order to lessen the danger to the regular sol-
diers?"

"No, sir."

"Well, then, if you've made up your mind to go
into the thickest of it, if necessary, and take every-
thing as it comes along with the chance of never
returning I'll take you, and pay what your friend
suggested."

If Rodney had yielded to its natural impulse he
would have jumped into the air and "yelled." But
he controlled his emotions and simply answered:

"Yes, sir. When shall I come?"

" To-morrow; for there's no telling how soon we
may be ordered out of here. By the way, have you
a pony?"

"No, sir."

" Nor any money to get one with?"

" No, sir," Rodney answered reluctantly as though
he were a trifle ashamed to make the confession.

" Well, then, I'll have to scare up some kind of a
mount for you. Suppose you come around this after-
noon and see what luck I have in finding something
that you can ride."

" Without waiting for a reply Gilroy turned and

32 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

entered the quarters, while Rodney bounded out of
the stockade and toward the cobbler's shop to carry
the news of his wonderful fortune.

The kindly old man shared in the boy's joy,
while claiming the credit of having been the princi-
pal means in securing it.

"If this trouble will only last long enough, you'll
be able to buy out the whole town," he laughingly
remarked.

As Rodney went out of the door, wondering how
his mother would receive the news which he must
break to her, Tranquilite called after him:

"Son, if your mother don't take to the plan, just
you tell her to come and talk with me."

This was a great relief to Rodney who began to
fear that the most difficult obstacle was yet to be en-
countered in securing her consent to the undertak-
ing. He felt sure, however, that, if it came to the
worst, the shrewd old cobbler, with his reputation
for good sense, would somehow convince his mother
that it was best to let him go.

CHAPTER IV.

PROUD PREPARATIONS.

As Rodney approached their cabin and saw his
mother bending over her wash tub, "doing out"
some clothes for the officers, his heart gave a leap
of pride and joy at the thought that very soon he
would be able to relieve her from the necessity of
such hard work.

"Ma I've I've got some news," Rodney an-
nounced, with many inward misgiving as to how she
would receive it.

"Well," replied Mrs. Merton, stopping her rub-
bing long enough to scrape the perspiration from her
forehead with her dripping forefinger. "There's no
lack of news these days goodness knows such as
it is. But if you've got some good news I'd be
thankful to hear that."

Rodney had become accustomed to the hopeless-
ness which long years of unavailing struggle and
sorrow had fastened upon his mother until it had
become inbred in her every tone and word. But her
dejection this morning seemed greater than usual
and had a touch of desperation in it which mater-
ially raised his hope that she would accept any alter-
native that promised relief from the grind and press-
ure of their poverty.

34 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"I've had an offer of three dollars a day."

"Three dollars a day!" she repeated in astonish-
ment, her face flushed with greater animation than
he had seen it express in years. Then a quick
shadow passed over it as she inquired, " 'Taint to
join the scouts, is it, Rodney?"

" No not exactly. It's to carry messages an'
wait on a newspaper man, who is going along with
the scouts, to write up the Rebellion for the Toronto
and London papers. Mr. Tranquilite got the chance
for me an' I'm to get three dollars a day and all
expenses horse an' everything, as long 's the war
lasts. Mr. Gilroy the newspaper man wants me
to come back an' help him pick out a mount for me
this forenoon." He felt a strong pride in using the
word "mount" instead of horse; it sounded so
"military."

" Well, there aint any time to lose then. It's
most ten now. You better hurry."

With this she again plunged the shirt, which she
had been rubbing, into the suds and dismissed the
matter and him as though the occasion were as
commonplace as an errand to the post for family
supplies.

Rodney had expected opposition and tears on
the part of his mother and this kind of a reception
was so different from what he had anticipated that
he was nonplussed, not to say almost disappointed.
Could it be that his mother loved him less than he
had thought and she could let him go to war with
scarcely a moment's hesitation or regret. This latter

PROUD PREPARATIONS. 35

thought, it must be confessed, touched his pride as
well as his affection. It hurt him to think that he
should be actually going to war without even his own
mother realizing the dignity and the danger of the
occasion, which, it seemed to him, should impress
everybody.

As he turned to go back to the fort his mother
called after him:

"Rodney, now look sharp that they don't put off
any vicious brute onto y'. Git a gentle one."

He found Gilroy in front of the fort looking at a
collection of horses. They were not as sightly as
could be wished; but Rodney realized that there
might be times when this would be the least neces-
sary qualification. The resemblance of one of them,
which had a ponderous white Roman nose, tattered
ears and Albino eyes, to a picture of a cow-boy's
steed which he had seen in the Youth's Companion^ at
once determined his choice. The story which ac-
companied the illustration had described the cow-
boy's bronco as a shining example of courage and
endurance, and had detailed the brute's heroic con-
duct in an exciting Indian fight on the plains. This
resemblance determined him to select the pink-
eyed, Roman-nosed shaganappy if the choice was
left to him.

"Well, which one takes your eye?" inquired
Gilroy.

" I think the spotted one with the big nose,"
Rodney replied.

"The boy's head 's level," spoke up Captain

36 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

French who had quietly joined the spectators to the
negotiations. " I know that horse. He used to be
in the mounted police. He'll thrive where a com-
mon horse will starve. O, he's a stayer. Knows
more than lots of police I've seen, and is just as
handsome, too!"

This brought a hearty laugh from the scouts and
made Rodney feel that he was getting on well for a
beginning.

" How old is he?" inquired Gilroy of the Captain.

"Oh, he's of age, anyway. I never counted his
teeth. Always rather count his ribs so much hand-
dier, y' see."

"All right, I'll take him, if you think he's safe
for the boy," said Gilroy, as he handed the halter to
Rodney, whose heart swelled with conscious pride
as he led his horse past a group of the village boys,
who now seemed strangely young and insignificant
to him.

Rodney spent the remainder of the day in groom-
ing his pie bald treasure and in packing the meager
bundle that was to constitute his outfit.

It gave him an honest, manly pride to have
Leveque call him into the post and say:

"Now if there's anything you want to fit out
with, or anything your ma wants while you're gone,
you can have the credit for it."

Rodney would have liked to refuse this offer of
credit from the man who had denied it to him and
to his mother when he was out of employment, but
he knew that his mother stood in immediate need

PROUD PREPARATIONS. 37

of many things and that he would be greatly ashamed
to report for duty without shoes and stockings and
dressed in his present "best clothes" which were
little better than a faithful and variegated collection
of patches. Consequently he was obliged to swallow
his pride and accept the offer of credit. When
clothed in a suit, stockings and boots he felt that he
had left boyish things behind him and had entered
upon the serious affairs of life.

He did not go to bed until late that night, and
when he did it was in a different fashion than usual.
Instead of kicking a pair of tattered trousers from
legs, that had been bare-footed all day, he took off
his boots and stockings with manly deliberation and
hung his long trousers by the strap in the back with
a dignity becoming one who had re-established the
family credit, and who was going to war as a private
newspaper scout on a salary of three dollars a day,
and a horse that he might call his own.

He looked carefully about his loft and tried to
realize that it was probably the last night that he
would sleep in it for many months perhaps forever.

When he went to sleep, it was in wondering
whether people would not sometime visit that loft to
see where General Rodney Merton, the famous scout
of the North West, had slept when a boy.

His mother called him bright and early the next
morning, and when he reached the stable to take
care of Gilroy's horse and his own, he found that he
was in advance of the earliest scout.

After Gilroy had lighted his after-breakfast pipe,

38 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

he called Rodney, and motioned him to a seat upon
the grass.

"Be back in a minute," the newspaper man ex-
plained as he disapeared. into the quarters.

When he again appeared, he carried a repeating
rifle and a belt in which were hung a pair of new
six-shooters, a knife and a field glass.

" Now lad," said Gilroy as he handed them to the
astonished boy, "You want to learn how to use these
trinkets, and how to take care of them. And what's
more you've got to learn all the discipline that a
regular scout is under just what every command
means, and how to obey it. I've arranged with Lieu-
tenant Johns to teach you all he can until we get
marching orders. Then you'll have to fall in line
with the rest and make the best you can of it. Here
he comes now, ready for business. Pick it up as fast
as you can, for you can't tell what bit of information
is going to let you out of some tight scrape when we
get into the fighting. Lieutenant, this is Private
Scout Rodney Merton ready to be taught how to
steal pigs and chickens and strip dead Injuns of
their finery when the Captain's back is turned."

With this introduction, Gilroy went inside to
write to his paper the important news that had not
happened, and left Rodney to his first lesson in the
art of war.

After the noon mess, Rodney and his teacher
again resumed their drill.

Suddenly a clear blast of a bugle, from the en-
campment of the regulars broke the quiet of the

PROUD PREPARATIONS. 39

little hamlet. It sent the chilling thrills through
and through Rodney, for he knew that it was the
call to mount and march.

CHAPTER V.

A BRUSH WITH THE HALF BREEDS.

A LTHOUGH Gilroy had told Rodney that they
/i might be ordered to march at any time, the
sudden summons to mount was a great surprise to
him, and it gave him a shock when he realized that
he would have no opportunity to say good-bye to
his mother; for by the time he had saddled Gilroy's
horse and executed the other orders that his em-
ployer had given him, the entire company of scouts
was ready to move forward.

As the scouts were to precede the regular troops,
the order to march was promptly given, and they
set off at an easy canter.

Rodney strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of
his mother and wave her a farewell if she should
chance to be observing the movement of the scouts.
Just as he was passing nearly out of sight of the old
home cabin, he saw her come out of the door and go
to hanging out clothes, with her back turned
toward him; and he could scarcely choke back the
tears at the thought of leaving her without even a
farewell, when perhaps he might never see her

again.

However, there was too much keen excitement
close about him to permit these gloomy reflections
to long occupy his mind.

A BRUSH WITH THE HALF BREEDS. 4!

The sight of thirty mounted horsemen is alone
sufficient to chase all other thoughts out of a healthy
boy's mind; but when those horsemen are galloping
out to war, and the boy mounted on his own horse
with his rifle slung over his back and his revolvers
in his belt, is one of their number, any feelings save
swelling pride and a tremendous excitement are
plainly out of the question.

Rodney was riding well at the front, between
Lieutenant Johns and Gilroy, and as he turned in
his saddle and glanced back over the galloping
company of horses, at the regiments of "regulars,"
with their artillery, splendid uniforms and perfect
movements, as they were just leaving the site of
their recent camp, he could scarcely suppress a
boyish yell of admiration.

" Oh, it's glorious! " was his mental exclamation
at the stirring sight.

There was nothing to break the train of his ex-
ultant reflections until they had been several hours
on the march, and the charing of the saddle began
to make itself felt on the tender surface of his legs.
This irritation increased with each mile of
travel, until Rodney was finally compelled to curl
one leg up over the horn of his saddle, in feminine
fashion, in order to secure a change of position
which would temporarily relieve the blistered parts,
This left the unoccupied stirrup dangling loosely.

Suddenly a loud grunt announced the presence
of a pig in the stunted brush by the roadside; and
before Rodney could change his position a small

42 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

razor-backed hog dashed almost in under the feet of
the foremost horses. Instantly Rodney's horse
wheeled, kicked, plunged and -broke ranks in a way
that not only promised to unseat its rider in the
most unceremonious fashion, but also threatened to
interrupt his soldierly career before it had fairly
begun.

Finding that its violent buck-jumping failed to
dislodge its rider, the pink-eyed Shaganappy
resolved to try a new maneuver, and "lit out" down
the road, in advance of the scouts, at a steeple-chase
pace.

" Pity he ain't in the Derby- -he'd take the
stakes sure! ' exclaimed Gilroy, as he watched Rod-
ney's wild ride with a greater anxiety than his
words indicated.

The horse and its clinging rider disappeared over
the top of a wooded hill, the empty stirrups thresh-
ing the animal's sides at every plunge.

But Rodney clung to his seat with the grip of
desperation. At last, as the brute's pace began to
slacken from fatigue, or the conviction that it had
mistaken the staying qualities of its rider, he suc-
ceeded in again getting fairly astride of the saddle.

The runaway then seemed to realize that it was
ouce more under bridal control and prepared to
yield the contest and settle down into obedience;
but Rodney was not disposed to accept the surrender
on these terms. Turning "Pink-eye," as, by common
impulse, the horse had come to be named, about,'
Rodney regained his flapping stirrups and gave the

A BRUSH WITH THE HALF BREEDS. 43

animal as smart a ride back to the advancing com-
pany as the runaway had made in its first dash.

He was greeted with a round of cheers as he
again fell into rank.

"You won't have any more trouble with that
old Shaganappy. He knows you are master now;"
remarked Captain French, in a way that did Rodney
as much good as the cheers of the others had done
him.

By the time that the company reached Clark's
Crossing Rodney had come to feel quite at home in
the saddle, and the ride began to seem a trifle weari-
some and monotonous. He would not admit to
himself that he wanted any fighting to occur; but
he cherished a secret longing that something excit-
ing and warlike would happen.

He had his wish.

Gilroy touched his elbow and said:

" You see those horsemen along the crest of the
hills, there? Well; they're Reil's scouts."

Rodney raised his glass and watched them, with
the thrilling sense that it was the first sight of the
enemy.

Just then the captain was heard detailing Lieu-
tenant Johns to take a squad of twenty men and
make an effort to capture the outriding Half Breed
scouts.

Rodney wondered if Gilroy would order him to
go with the skirmishers; but Gilroy seemed to entire-
ly forget, in the prospect of the excitement, the pres-
ence of his private scout and dashed away with the

44 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

detachment without a word or a glance to indicate
what he expected of his assistant.

Only a moment did Rodney hesitate; then he
followed hard on in the tracks of his superior, vn
secret fear that the latter would discover his presence
and send him back to the main company.

After a sharp ride of a couple of miles they halted
under cover of small woods for a momentary con-
sultation, during which Rodney was careful to keep
as many horsemen and bushes between himself and
Gilroy as possible.

It was decided to divide the men into two equal
detachments, one of them to ride openly upon the
half-breeds, the other to take a circuit and come up
in form to surround them when retreating or under
fire.

Gilroy waited with the party which was to lead
the attack.

When a sufficient time had been allowed for the
others to make their longer circuitous advance, the
remaining squad pressed on to the edge of the
woods, from which the Half Breeds could be seen
only a few hundred rods distant, sitting quietly on
their ponies and calmly watching the other body of
the government scouts further down in the valley.

They had not detected the approach of Lieutenant
Johns' detachment.

" Now for a sharp dash at them. If they halt to
fire, do the same, and give it to them until the other
boys come up behind and cut off their retreat," was
the command.

A BRUSH WITH THE HALF BREEDS. 45

Then the signal to charge was given and
the twelve government scouts, including the news-
paper force, leaped their horses out of the conceal-
ment into full sight of the astonished squad of
Rebels, which Rodney hurriedly estimated to be
about eight in number. The latter did not even
pause to fire an opening salute, but wheeled and
galloped toward the cover of the next stretch
of woods as fast as their ponies could carry
them.

"Put 'em through!" shouted the lieutenant, and
the scouts urged on their horses until they rode breast
to breast, with only Rodney, who contrived to keep
close behind Gilroy, in the rear.

The race was more spirited and exciting than
even Rodney's dreams of a charge had pictured.
He had never ridden so fast in his life before, and it
seemed to him that they must be going almost as
fast as a railway train.

As he had never been aboard one of the latter
while it was in motion, and had formed his estimate
of their speed mainly in watching them across the
prairie at a considerable distance, it was not wholly
strange that the long, sharp, straining leaps of the
animal under him should seem almost as fleet as the
trains.

As the horses' speed increased, he began to
wonder what would happen if they were obliged to
stop short. Before he could reach any conclusion
upon this problem, the scouts began to slacken their
speed and fire.

46 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"Crack! crack! crack!" went one repeaterafter
another.

Rodney watched the fleeing Half Breeds, expect-
ing to see several of them reel from their saddles;
but they did not.

After some fifty rods of even more desperate
riding, the scouts evidently considered themselves
within rifle range, for they drew their horses to a
standstill, and began firing, almost together, with a
deliberate aim that sent a couple of the Half Breeds'
ponies stumbling upon their knees. But they regained
their feet and plunged on more furiously than
before.

Rodney became so absorbed for the moment in
watching the effect of the shooting that he lost
thought of everything beside. When he returned
to consciousness of his surroundings, he saw Gilroy's
horse breaking toward the enemy at terrific speed,
leaving the scouts rapidly behind.

A moment's observation convinced him that
Gilroy's horse, which he knew had never been under
fire before, had become unmanageable.

Would it carry the helpless correspondent so
close to the half-breeds that they would pause long
enough to shoot him down at short range? Then
the thought flashed through Rodney's mind that
they would be less likely to attempt such a move if
Gilroy were not alone, and that he must catch up
with his employer and lessen the danger by sharing
it with him. Then there might also be a chance
that, by riding close alongside Gilroy and seizing

A BRUSH WITH THE HALF BREEDS. 47

.the bit of the latter's horse, he could bring the ter-
rified animal to a halt in time to save its rider.

The great question now in the boy's mind was
not how he should stop his own horse, but whether
he could overtake Gilroy before they were fairly
upon the heels of the Half Breeds. He jabbed his
spurs fiercely into the sides of Pink-eye and the
latter responded with a sudden expenditure of
reserve speed which well nigh took Rodney's breath.

In less time than he had dared to hope the Roman
nose of Pink-eye 'was alongside the flank of
Gilvoy's horse and in a second more they were
neck and neck.

Rodney was about to attempt his desperate plan
of seizing Gilroy's bridle, when one of the Half
Breeds wheeled his pony about, raised his Winches-
ter and sent back a bullet which dropped Gilroy's
horse upon its knees.

Without a word from him Rodney's horse came
to a stand still within a few rods from where Gilroy
had been thrown. How the horse accomplished
this feat without shooting him from the saddle was
more than Rodney could understand. Only a horse
with a long training in actual cavalry service could
have done it, he was s.ure.

But there was no time for him to speculate upon
it then; there was too much pressing business close
at hand.

The same scout who had dropped Gilroy's horse
was "pumping" the empty cartridge-shell out of his
Winchester, ready for a second shot.

48 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

Scarcely knowing how he did it, Rodney leaped
from his horse leveled his rifle across his saddle and
fired. The rifle which had a careful bead upon
Gilroy dropped from the Half Breed's hands and
discharged harmlessly as it fell.

The wounded man shouted to his comrade, who
were some distance in advance of him and they
faced about and opened up a lively fire upon Gilroy
and Rodney. The former had succeeded in getting
back to his horse without being struck by any of the
ballswhich whistled about him in a rapid succession
as the Half Breeds could pump their Winchesters.
Finding that his horse was severely wounded,
Gilroy quickly drew his revolver and put the animal
out of its suffering by sending a bullet through its
head. He then threw himself at full length on the
ground and using the dead body of the horse as a
barricade and ''rest" for his rifle, proceeded to
return the fire of Rebels with an accuracy which was
impossible to them, mounted upon their panting and
exhausted ponies. Rodney was also intrenched
behind his Shaganappy, which stood as motionless as
though being carried or caressed.

If the range between the dueling parties had not
been so great probably both would have suffered
severely, but the singing of the balls close about
them, and the loss of Gilroy's horse were the nearest
approaches to fatalities which the newspaper scouts
sustained. Nor could they see that their shots,
aside from the fortunate hit made by Rodney's first
ball, had any effect upon the Half Breeds. However,

A BRUSH WITH THE *ALF BREEDS. 49

the wound that Rodney then inflicted upon the dar-
ing spy no doubt saved Gilroy's life, for the two were
in close quarters and Gilroy presented a fair and
unprotected target for the Half Breeds aim.

Meantime Lieutenant Johns and his men galloped
rapidly forward to Gilroy's relief, and when in line
with him, halted and joined in the interesting fire
with which he was plying the Rebels.

Had the lieutenant's object been to drop as many
of the enemy as possible he would have charged the
Half Breeds; but as he only wished to check their
retreat until the other detachment of scouts should
appear, the distance answered his purpose as effect-
ively as nearer range.

Suddenly from out the woods a couple of
hundred rods in the rear of the defensive party,
came in view the other ten government scouts. A
quick charge down the hill brought them in range
of the Half Breeds, who were thrown into confusion
by this unexpected rear attack. Without waiting
for the second party to come within close range,
they lost no time in giving the word of surrender
and brought to a speedy close Rodney's first experi-
ence under fire.

After the prisoners had been disarmed, and all
save the one whom Rodney had w r ounded securely
bound, Gilroy grasped Rodney's hand, exclaimed:
" My lad, that first shot of yours was a lucky one
for me and a plucky one, too! It saved my bacon
sure as you're alive. I supposed you were back
there with the others, where, by good rights, you

5O THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

ought to have been. But I'm mighty glad, as things
turned out, that you were on hand; and I shall not
forcret this turn, either.

Just then Lieutenant Johns laid a hearty hand on
Rodney's shoulder and exclaimed:

"Boy, you're a brick! Never saw a grittier
piece of business in my life! That's what I call good
fighting. You couldn't have done better if you'd
been an old hand at it. You did the right thing at
the right time. If all of my men do as well I'll be
mighty thankful that's all I can say. You plunked
that squaw-man just in the niche of time."

Rodney blushed under this praise, and when he
could speak replied:

" It was all so quick that I don't hardly know
how I happened to do it."

"Of course! That's the way it always is in this
kind of fighting. No time for fine figuring. And
the men who can grasp the situation and do their
work before they know how it's done are men we're
looking for. No, sir; there wasn't any fool fighting
in that little brush!"

"Was the man badly hurt?" asked Rodney in a
tone which betrayed the hope that he had not in-
flicted a serious injury and the fear that his shot
might have been fatal.

" Hit him square in the right shoulder. You
punished him well for his recklessness; but I guess
he'll pull through all right. He's back there grit
ting his teeth pretty hard," replied the Lieutenant
Johns, with a levity that made Rodney shudder.

A BRUSH WITH THE HALF BREEDS. 51

"If you please, I'd like to let him have my horse
to ride back on," said the boy.

" Well, that's what I'd call " But the lieutenant
did not finish the sentence.

However, Rodney had the satisfaction of seeing
the man whom he had wounded, ride back on old
Pink-eye; and after they reached camp the tender-
hearted boy not only devoted every possible mo-
ment to making the man as comfortable as his
injuries would permit, but also suffered, in keen
sympathy, the pains which, through the inevitable
fortunes of war, he had inflicted.

CHAPTER VI.

A FIERCE BATTLE AT FISH CREEK.

THE scouts were joined at Clark's Crossing by the
regulars, and the camp presented a very impos-
ing and warlike appearance, at least to Rodney's
eyes. The story of his courageous conduct in the
capture of the prisoners evidently went the rounds
among the regulars, many of whom had a cheerful
greeting for him, treating him as nearly like a com-
panion and an equal as men can treat boys.

But the intimate companionship which sprang up
between the newspaper correspondent and Rodney
was the greatest satisfaction that had yet entered
into the life of the shy, quiet boy.

In a few confidential chats by their own camp-
fire, Gilroy drew the boy out and discovered that
his intelligence was equal to his courage and faith-
fulness and that his knowledge of good books and
the things best worth knowing was far in advance,
both in range and thoroughness, of that acquired by
the average boy under the best educational en-
vironments.

" I'll tell you what's the matter, Captain," said
the correspondent to Captain French; "that lad's
got sound parts. He's lived in that little frontier
town and picked from a priest and his library more
real culture than I had, at his age, after attending

A FIERCE BATTLE AT FISH CREEK. 53

one of the best private schools in England. All he
needs now to make him a broad man is the worldly
wisdom that he'll get in knocking about the world-
and I guess he'll pick that up fast enough. Anyway
I mean to do the square thing by him. I believe
he's got the making of a good newspaper man in
him."

It was enough for Rodney to know that Gilroy
seemed to like him and gave him the hearty
good fellowship that only an adult companion could
have expected. It was something to which Rodney
had never dared aspire.

It seemed to Rodney that he had never listened
to anything quite so interesting as Gilroy's account
of the great newspaper offices that he had visited
and their wonderful printing-presses.

Rodney purposed to ask more about these, but
the exciting events which followed the division of
the troops, on the third day at Clark's Crossing, put
all but present events out of mind for the time
being.

As it was impossible to tell upon which side of
the river the Riel forces would be encountered, the
troops were divided equally between Lord Melgund
and Gen. Middleton, the former proceeding on the
north side of the river, while the latter scoured the
south shore, the scouts coming under the command
of Lord Melgund.

The additional number of troops in the march-
ing columns, the presence of the uniformed regulars
and the hourly expectation of coming upon the

54 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

enemy, made the march full of excitement to Rod-
ney.

It was not until the third day out of Clark's
Crossing that the sharp, crackling reports of mus-
ketry, on the opposite bank, told that the enemy had
been engaged by Gen. Middleton's division.

Then anticipations leaped to fever-heat on every
hand. Rodney had often speculated upon the feel-
ings of a soldier about to enter an engagement, and
had come to the secret conclusion that, while a
worthy soldier would not shrink from the deliberate
hazard of his life, he would " look death in the face"
and mentally prepare himself for the worst that
might happen. It was almost impossible for him to
realize that the men about him were expecting to be
in the thick of battle within the next hour. The
Half Breed boys at the fort had never been in more
jovial spirits in anticipation of a game of ball or a
wrestling match than were these ligh-hearted sol-
diers. It was only by an analysis of his own feel-
ings that Rodney could judge the emotions of the
others. It seemed to him that probably many of
the men would be shot, but not himself. He ac-
counted, however, for his own comfortable personal
view of the matter by the fact that he would prob-
ably be in a safe place, and not exposed to the dan-
gers like the others.

The appearance of a couple of aides, riding at
greatest speed over the crest of the hills, on the op-
posite side, was the signal for a burst of cheers.

Before their arrival, Rodney watched the

A FIERCE BATTLE AT FISH CREEK. 55

gunners train their cannon from the brow of the
bluff upon the spot where the Half Breeds were sup-
posed to be ambushed. It made the boy cringe to
watch the effect of the balls from the big gun, as
they crashed through the trees that opposed their
passage.

Before many discharges from the battery, the
aides dashed up to Lord Melgund, bringing dis-
patches from Gen. Middleton, directing the latter to
be sent across the river, to his assistance, under
guard of the scouts.

An old scow had been floated down the river and
anchored for transport purposes, and upon this the
cannon, after infinite pains, was loaded.

The tug-of-war, however, came in landing the
gun and getting it up the steep bank on the opposite
side.

To do manual labor while exposed to the fire of
the enemy was a sort of bravery which Rodney ap-
preciated for the first time, as he saw the men
laboring to hoist the heavy gun up the declivity,
while the balls from the rifles of the Rebel sharp
shooters whistled close about them.

The latter were entrenched in a V-shaped ravine,
protected by timber and carefully-constructed rifle
pits, from which they poured, with comparative
safety, a telling fire upon the government forces,
which occupied the high, exposed position upon the
bank of the ravine.

" Now, young man," said Gilroy, rather sternly,
as soon as they reached the elevation from which

56 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

the cannon was ranged upon the occupants of the
ravine, " I want you to take care of yourself and keep
out of danger. There will be no reason for you to
expose yourself at all during the fight. Just see all
you can of it within the bounds of safety, and try to
remember every incident and detail, so that you can
tell me all about it afterwards. When the fight is
over I shall have to send you back to the station
with a dispatch; so you'd better catch as much sleep
as you can, for you'll need it."

At first Rodney kept carefully in theback ground,
but as the excitement intensified, his recollection of
Gilroy's kindly instructions became gradually less
vivid, and when he finally saw a large log laying
close along the edge of the bank he lost no time
creeping to it. It was an ideal position from which
to observe the fight, and Rodney wondered that
some of the scouts had not found it before him.

A small opening underneath the log formed an
excellent peep-hole, through which he could see
distinctly, without the possibility of being sighted by
the Rebels.

"I'll tell Mr. Gilroy of this; for I'll warrant he
hasn't found as good an outlook," exclaimed Rod-
ney, as he turned about and crawled back out of
range, where he expected to find the correspondent.

The first men whom Rodney encountered were
four of the scouts, who were bringing back a com-
panion on an improvised stretcher.

The man had been struck in the lower jaw by a
sharp-shooter's ball and presented a ghastly sight,

A FIERCE BATTLE AT FISH CREEK. 57

from which the boy turned away with a faint and

sickening sensation.

"Looking for Gilroy?" asked one of the men,

who knew the young newspaper scout.

"Yes, sir! Can you tell me where he is? '
"Right over there in that clump of trees, along

with the general. It's infernal warm over there just

now and you'd better pick your way and keep

behind the trees. No sense in being fool-hardy, you

know."

Rodney could see the erect form of General
Middleton, mounted on his handsome horse, and
standing beside him was Gilroy.

Taking as protected a course as possible Rodney
soon found himself safely beside Gilroy, who turned
upon him with a disapproving frown and the excla-
mation:

"What! You here? This is no place for anyone
who doesn't have to fight."

He might have said more, but that instant the
shrill scream of a ball made them cringe and dodge.

"That's a close call for some of us! " said Gilroy,
changing the subject.

"Rather, yes! ' said the general, as he quickly
changed his position, took his fur hat from his head
and held it out toward Gilroy, "I reckon that shot
was meant for me! '

The bullet had ripped through the top of the hat
and could not have passed more than an inch from
his head.

"Those fellows are about as near dead shots as

58 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

they make them and Gabriel Dumont is the cham-
pion of the whole outfit." added the general, and
then gave the order for the rifles to keep a sharp
lookout for the head of Kiel's chief of staff, who
was known by his peculiar hat, and to make him a
special target.

"That's business!" remarked Captain Wise of the
staff, in an undertone to Gilroy. "Every time
Dumont shows his head above their rifle pit it means
Gabriel's trump for some fellow on our side. And
he is just smart enough to change his position after
every shot. No telling where he will bob up."

The wonderful coolness of General Middleton,
and of all the men about him, under such terrible
danger, impressed Rodney with a feeling of awe
and admiration, which made a big lump rise in his
throat. It seemed to him that his own conduct in
the skirmish with the Half Breed scouts was nothing
compared with such deliberate bravery as these men
displayed; and he felt a keen sense of shame at the
impulse which at that moment made him wish that
he were in safer quarters.

"There's a perfectly safe place over there behind
a big log, right on the brow of the bluff, where we
can see the whole thing through a crack under the
log. I thought mebby you'd like to know of it,'
explained Rodney, in an undertone.

"All right, we'll "

A fierce cry of pain, different from any that Rod-
ney had yet heard, cut short the remainder of
Gilroy's remark.

A FIERCE BATTLE AT FISH CREEK. 59

At the same instant Rodney saw the splendid
animal, one of the best in camp, upon which the
Hon. Feinnes, of the general's staff, was mounted,
rear and plunge. It had been shot through and its
peculiar scream seemed even more terrible to the
boy than the moans of pain that had escaped the
wounded man whom he had met a few moments
before.

He expected to see the horse drop at once, as the
blood was spurting a stream from its side.

Feinnes, who was seeking to obtain a better
knowledge of the enemy's position and a more tell-
ing arrangement of his own forces, plunged his spurs
into his mortally wounded horse and rode sheer up
to the brink of the ravine, where his figure must have
been clearly silhouetted against the sky.

The close and clear view of the Rebels which this
point of vantage afforded the reckless young officer
was too great a temptation to him, and he drew his
revolvers and deliberately emptied them at Half
Breeds, while a volley of balls whistled around him.

"The fool!" exclaimed Gilroy, as he grasped
Lieutenant Johns' arm and watched the man under
the spell of the same awful fascination which held
Rodney's attention, expecting that the next instant
would see both man and horse fall perhaps over
the brink of the ravine.

When Feinnes had emptied the chambers of both
his revolvers he wheeled his horse about and rode
back towards his men.

"Well, if those Half Breeds don't give him credit

6O THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

for being charmed, then I'm mistaken," exclaimed
Lieutenant Johns. "That was the nerviest piece of
fool fighting I ever saw. He must be bullet-proof,
for nothing short of a miracle could have saved
him."

'Come, lad, let's get out of this. It's altogether
too lively for me here," said Gilroy, who made no
secret of the fear which Rodney had been ashamed
to admit even to himself.

Rodney led the way to his log.

"Just see the horses down there along the creek!"
exclaimed Gilroy, pointing to the ponies of the
Half Breeds which had been hitched to the timber
in the bottom of the ravine. Many of them were
dead, while the wounded ones were plunging furi-
ously in efforts to break their Shagnappy lariats.

"If you can get the drop on any of 'em that
haven't been killed or disabled, you might get a little
good rifle practice," suggested Gilroy.

"I'd rather put some of the wounded and
suffering ones out of their misery," replied Rodney,
whose humane instincts and natural love of all
animals, and especially of horses, revolted against
the thought of deliberately shooting down the inno-
cent creatures. It seemed to him that it would be
more nearly right to shoot the men who had left
them thus exposed.

He therefore selected one after another of the
wounded ones and made them his target.

"I'm going to see if I can hit that spotted one in
the head," said Rodney, as he took aim at a pony

A FIERCE BATTLE AT FISH CREEK. 6l

that had been wounded and was laying back upon
its tether until its haunches almost touched the
ground.

"Good! try another!" exclaimed Gilroy, as the
Shaganappy dropped limply to the ground after the
report of Rodney's rifle.

As Rodney opened the guard of his repeater to
eject the exploded shell and throw a fresh cartridge
into place he exclaimed:

"Look! There's Dumont!"

The next moment, as Gilroy leveled his rifle at
the famous Half Breed lieutenant, Rodney would
have given almost anything in his power to have
recalled his words.

"Click!" went the hammer of the gun. The cart-
ridge had failed and Gilroy jerked back the shell
ejector with a stronger exclamation of anger and
disgust than Rodney had ever heard him use before.

Rodney, however, could scarcely surpress the
exclamation of relief and thankfulness that rose to
his lips at the result. It seemed like murder to him
to lay concealed in ambush, select a particular vic-
tim and shoot him down with cool, calculating de-
liberation.

"That fellow's like Feinnes, he's bullet-proof-
and a regular dare-devil, too. I'll bet he's killed
more of our men than any man in Riel's army. And
the bad whisky that he used to sell in his groggery
has done up perhaps as many honest men as his
rifle has."

Rodney could not help thinking that the dashing

62 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

young Half Breed certainly commanded greater re-
spect in his present role of chief lieutenant of the
oppressed settlers' forces than, in his former calling,
of selling slow poison to his friends.

As the dusk settled down the firing gradually
ceased, picket lines were thrown out and the news-
paper scouts moved about headquarters picking up
the details of the day's fighting.

It was learned that the goverment forces had
lost about forty-nine men.

''Now turn in and sleep until I wake you. I shall
get my specials written up by early morning and
then I'll rout you and you can take the back
track for the telegraph station. I don't think you'll
have any trouble in getting through all right, but
you'll have to keep a sharp out-look for Rebel
scouts. And if you should run against any of them,
don't have any false pride about showing them your
horse's heels and leaving them behind as fast as
possible. Well, good-night."

With these instructions in his mind, Rodney
rolled himself in his blanket, feeling that sleep would
be out of the question after the intense excitement
of the day.

He was but fairly launched in his speculations
upon what the morrow would bring forth, when he
dropped into heavy slumber.

It seemed to him, when in the morning Gilroy's
vigorous shakes aroused him, that he had but just
retired.

" Put these dispatches in your boots, get your-

A FIERCE BATTLE AT FISH CREEK. 63

self some breakfast and then put out at as good a
pace as you think your horse will hold. If you
make the trip in extra time, quick you may get back
here before we break camp, for the general has
decided to wait for reinforcements before moving
on to Batosch."

CHAPTER VII.

THE LOST CHILD.

THERE had always been a peculiar charm to
Rodney in the gray dimness of an early spring
morning; and as he saddled Pink-eye, after eating
his breakfast and providing himself with a little
lunch for his journey, this peculiar influence was
especially strong upon him. It stirred all the tender
instincts of the boy, and his thoughts went back to
his mother. He wondered whether or not she had
found it very lonely since his departure, and from
that fell to thinking how glad she would be to see
him when he should return.

Although he had been as obedient and thought-
ful of his parents' comfort as any happy, healthy
boy could reasonably be expected to be, it was
not difficult, when in this reflective mood, to
recall many ways in which he might have
contributed to his mother's happiness and comfort,
which he had failed to improve; and as the weary,
hopeless drudgery of her life came clearly before
his mind its pathetic desolateness touched him more
strongly than ever before.

" If I get through this thing all right, I know
what I'll do! ' he mused, slapping his leg in a burst
of enthusiasm. " Mother shall have a trip back to
Illinois to see her folks. It would do her a world

THE LOST CHILD. 65

of good. And maybe I could go with her and get a
place on some newspaper. '

The barking of a dog, that had been waiting in
ambush by the side of the road, aroused him from
his reverie to the consciousness that he was making
very poor haste.

The snapping of the cur about the heels of Pink-
eye set the Shaganappy off at a round canter, to
which he steadily held.

When passing through the open country Rodney
felt comparatively little anxiety about his safety
from prowling scouts; but as he approached a long
stretch of woods, which came close to the road on
either side, his watchfulness instinctively quickened
and his faculties were keyed to catch the slightest
sign of danger.

He was well along into the center of the woods,
when he pulled Pink-eye to a sharp halt and paused
to listen.

Yes, there could be no doubt about it! He surely
heard a human voice back from the road, in the
interior of the woods. Again he listened. This
time the sound came with startling clearness. It was
a woman's voice, hoarse and strained, calling loudly.

"Jean! Oh Jean! Jean!' it repeated, in a voice
that told him plainly that the woman must be hunt-
ing for a lost child.

" It wont take long, just to stop and see what the
trouble is," he argued with himself; "and I'll push
Pink-eye through a little harder to make up for the
delay. "

66 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

As the voice sounded nearer with each repetition
of the pitiful call, he concluded that he would see
the woman as soon by waiting quietly in the road
where he was, as he would by attempting to get
through the timber toward her. He also did not
wish to run the risk of leaving his horse for even a
few moments in the road. It seemed impossible for
him to pass by without any heed to the woman's dis-
tress, and he did not think best to call out to her.

Although obliged to wait but a few mo-
ments, it seemed a long time to Rodney, under
stress of his sympathy and anxiety, before the woman
appeared in the road, several rods in advance of him.

He called quietly to her and was soon at her
side, listening to her story.

Her husband, she said, was in Riel's forces at
Batosch, and she had been left at home with their
four children. Their cabin was so close to the bank
of the ravine, at Fish Creek, that she had been
obliged to flee from it with her children. They had
started for the cabin of a friend, five miles in the
direction in which Rodney was going.

When they had reached the edge of the woods it
came to her that she had forgotten, in the panic of
their fright, the little money she had hid in the
cabin, and now that the children were out of danger,
she determined to go back for it. Leaving the
three younger children in care of the eldest girl,
seven years old, she hurried back to their deserted
home and secured the stocking in which their little
hoard of money was concealed.

THE LOST CHILD. 67

In an hour she was back to her children, but the
oldest girl was missing. The baby had called for
water and she had gone to look fora spring. From
that time she had been searching the woods, with-
out finding any trace of the lost girl. The other
children had been left with the wife of a settler,
whose cabin was near at hand.

Rodney assured her that he would not only keep
a constant lookout for the child, in the remainder
of his journey, but would also stop at the cabin to
which they had originally set out, and tell their
friends of her distress.

It was a severe hardship for the boy to continue
his journey, but there seemed to be no escape from
the necessity of this. He consoled himself, how-
ever, with the thought that perhaps he might be as
likely to come accidentally upon the lost child as he
would be to find it upon a definite search.

When at last he reached the telegraph station
and tied old Pink-eye to the ring in the platform, he
could not forbear putting a few caressing pats upon
the pony's scrawny, U-shaped neck, which was wet
with foam and sweat.

" Well, you are a stayer, so you are ! I'll see if I
can't scare you up a good feed of oats," he said to
the pony, which seemed to understand his words.

After attending to the dispatches and writing a
short letter to his mother, Rodney secured from the
station agent a feed of oats and gave them to the
faithful animal, which he carefully groomed with a
bit of an old blanket, also obtained from the agent.

68 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

Then he ate his lunch and wrote a short letter to
his mother.

But his mind was filled with thoughts of the
half-breed mother, searching the woods for her
lost child. If only he might find the little girl !
He determined to risk a slight delay in getting back
to camp in order to make a short search for the
child, for he was sure that Gilroy would not object,
under the circumstances.

With this determination, he quickly saddled Pink-
eye and began to retrace his course at even greater
speed than he had come.

So completely did the thought of rescuing the
child absorb him, that Gilroy's caution about keep-
ing a sharp lookout for prowling half-breed scouts
was completely forgotten.

He paused and listened to every unusual sound,
and frequently went out of the roadway to investi-
gate objects which had the faintest suggestion of
resemblance to a child or to a bit of clothing. But
each of these sounds and objects, which at first
excited his hopes, proved upon investigation to be
natural and common-place, that he wondered how
he could have been misled by them; and as he
had neared the place where he had met the woman,
he almost despaired of success.

Nevertheless, he paused a moment to debate
with himself the advisability of carrying out his
determination. In view of the fact that the mother
had herself patroled the woods, calling the child's
name at almost every step, it seemed useless for him

THE LOST CHILD. 69

to spend the hour or two that he would dare to
delay, in searching over the same ground.

"It's no use ! I might just as well go on," he said
to himself, and accordingly put spurs to his horse
and hastened on.

As he came within sight of the "open" between the
timber and the camp, overlooking Fish Creek, he
noticed what seemed like a light trail leading into
the woods. Closer scrutiny confirmed this suspicion,
for there were the prints of a horse's hoof, which
had been recently shod.

"I'll follow this up for a little way and see where
it leads to," he said to himself.

Although a moment's reflection would have fur-
nished Rodney with several reasonable explanations
for the presence of this trail, it aroused in him a
boyish excitement, at the thought of having dis-
covered a secret trail which he could follow alone.
Who could tell to what strange developments it
might lead?

It was with difficulty that he managed to follow
the trail for about a hundred rods through the
woods into the mouth of a rocky and watered ravine,
the existence of which he had not, from the general
"lay" of the country, before mistrusted. This was an
interesting development, and he could not resist the
temptation to continue his explorations a little dis-
tance further up the gulch, although he was no
longer able to see the prints of the sharply "corked"
horseshoes.

As he proceeded he found the banks on either

7O THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

side of the stream more high and rocky. Occasion-
ally flat shelves of rock jutted out at considerable
elevations, and as frequently he caught sight of
large holes in the banks, which looked delightfully
suggestive to his boyish imagination, of dark and
secret caverns.

He was about to halt and investigate one of these
openings, when he heard far up the ravine the
violent bellowing of a bull. At first his impulse was
to dismiss this fact without further thought, but in
his alert and imaginative mood, the most ordinary
facts became significant, and he relinquished his
purpose to peer in the hole as quickly as he had
formed it.

Putting spurs to his horse, he cantered briskly up
the flat, shaly bottom of the gulch, until it turned a
sharp angle. As he dashed around this curve, his
heart seemed for the moment to cease beating.

Within twenty rods of him, hooking and pawing
the earth of the bank in rage, and bellowing furi-
ously, was as scurvy and uninviting a specimen of
semi-wild bull as Rodney had ever seen, while from
one of the protruding shelves of stone waved in the
wind the object which had inflamed the creature's
fury to a state of madness.

It was the red flannel dress of a child. Each
time that a breeze would shake the garment, the bull's
rage would mount to a terrific pitch, and the brute
would rush up the steep bank until he would find
himself standing impotently underneath the shelf
of rock upon which the child was resting.

THE LOST CHILD. 71

Before Rodney could pull Pink-eye to a halt, the
Dull caught sight of him, paused a moment, with
his sharp, grimy horns lifted smartly aloof, and then,
with a wild, resonant bellow, charged upon the new
invader of his retreat.

All of the cow-boy stories which Rodney had read
represented that, when in the saddle, a man was
safe from the attacks of cattle, save in the case of
a stampede.

Rodney thought of this, as the bull came bound-
ing toward him, and would not have been sur-
prised to see the animal stop at any moment.

But the bull did not stop. It's leaps became
quicker and longer. Rodney reached for his revolv-
er, unbuttoned the flap of his holster, and drew it
out, just as the bull plunged into the shallow water
of the stream.

The boy had no notion of running from a
" scrub ' bull, whether there were any spectators
present to observe his conduct or not.

"Whoa stand still, Pink-eye!" he commanded
the shaganappy, which obeyed with military prompt-
ness and fidelity.

Then he fired three shots, in rapid succession, at
the breast of the oncoming brute, and jabbed his
spurs into the pony's flanks, as he imagined a Span-
ish bull-fighter might do.

It was a happy precaution, for an instant after
the bull made a plunge which would have pinned
both horns into the horse's side.

Quickly wheeling Pink-eye about, Rodney again

72 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

emptied a chamber of his revolver at the broadside
of the bull, as the latter went sprawling upon his
knees on the stones.

This ball, which entered the animal's side just
back of it's shoulder, was more effective than the
others, although it did not produce instant death, as
Rodney expected when he saw, by the spurting
blood, where it had entered. The wounded bull
still continued to propel itself by its hind legs,
while its breast plowed up the loose shale stones in
the bed of the ravine.

Believing that the creature was mortally wounded,
Rodney took more deliberate aim, and sent the two
remaining charges into its vital parts with fatal ef-
fect. In the intense excitement of his own peril
Rodney, for the instant, forgot the presence of the
child; but as soon as he saw that the bull was dead,
the recollection of the little figure stretched upon
the shelf of rock came back to him with fresh force
and emphasis.

"Is she alive?" was the awful question that
spurred him to put his horse through the slippery
bed of the stream at a reckless gallop.

Reaching a spot below the rock, he leaped from
his saddle and clambered up the steep bank.

"Dead!" he muttered, as he caught the first
glimpse of the child's face.

Instantly gathering the limp, little body in his
arms, the lad rushed down the bank to the edge of
the creek, from which he dipped handfuls of water
and dashed them into her face.

RESCUE OF THE LOST CHILD.

THE LOST CHILD. 73

He saw her eyelids twich and quiver. At last
they opened and she gave a little cry he could not
tell whether ot joy or fear and then sank into
stupor again. Having once seen a boy, who had,
when skating, fallen through the ice of the river,
brought back from unconsciousness by vigorous
rubbing, Rodney determined to try that remedy on
the child, and promptly began to chafe her face,
hands and bare feet and ankles.

It proved almost instantly effective, for the child
soon revived and sat upright on the stones.

Where is the bull --and ma and the children?"
she asked in confusion.

"The bull is dead- -over there on the other side;
see?" he answered, pointing to the animal. "Your
mother and the children are safe and I am going to
take you to them. I'm a newspaper scout, and
that's my horse up by the bank behind us," he added
proudly; but was almost ashamed of the words as
soon as he had spoken them, for he realized that
they were a little foolish and boastful.

"Oh I'm awful hungry!" exclaimed the child, in
a pitiful wailing tone, and then began to sob.

"Drink some water and I'll go to my saddle and
get some crackers that I had left from my lunch."

He scooped up more water in the palm of his
hand and held it to her lips again and again. It
seemed to Rodney that she could not have drank
more eagerly if she had been rescued from days of
wondering without water upon the plains or the
Sahara.

74 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"There! You hadn't better drink any more just
now." He ran to his saddle and took from
behind it the little bundle in which he had stowed
the remnants of his lunch.

After soaking a couple of the crackers in the
water he gave them to her, and she devoured them
with an almost savage greed.

"You'll have to let me carry you in front of me
on the saddle. Do you think you can stand it to
ride that way? We'll be where your mother is in
just a few minutes if you can." And without wait-
ing for a reply he carried her to the side of Pink-eye
and lifted her tenderly into the saddle.

She clung to its horn while he mounted and
then he started to retrace his course back to the
road.

Before they had gone a dozen rods he gave the
bridle-rein a sharp pull, which brought Pink-eye to
an abrupt halt. After a moment of intent listening
he wheeled the faithful shaganappy quickly about,
and said in an undertone:

"Now Jean, don't be frightened, or cry. We must
ride fast, for you know your mother is waiting to
see you."

Then he plunged the spurs into the pony's
sides with a vigor that gave the knowing brute to
understand that serious business was on hand.

As it leaped along the hard level bottom of the
ravine Rodney could hear the clatter of other hoofs
beyond the turn in the ravine, coming toward him
at terrific speed. He was sure that they were rebel

THE LOST CHILDo 75

scouts who had been attracted by the sound of his
shots at the bull.

It required only a few minutes to confirm this
opinion, for as half a dozen horsemen came in sight
around the turn of the gully, as many bullets whistled
after him.

They were fired at too great a distance and from
too unsteady seats to do him any injury.

For a hundred rods he held his distance straight
ahead, holding in front of him the child, who seemed
too terrified to even scream. Then he could see
that the scouts were gradually gaining upon his
awkwardly burdened horse.

When it seemed as though a few moments more
must surely bring his pursuers within rifle range of
him, he saw some thirty rods ahead of him a tribu-
tary creek joining the main stream by the side of
which he was riding.

The thought flashed into his mind that this branch
ravine would doubtless lead him up to the general
level of the surrounding country sooner than the
principal one that he was now following. Although
he could not have given a reason for this intuition
he instinctively accepted it and took new courage.

All that spurs and words of urging could do to
incite Pink-eye to a fresh burst of speed was done,
and the animal seemed to grasp a full understanding
of the fearful necessities of the moment. His hoofs
struck sparks from the stony trail at every leap.

Not until close up to the point where they must
turn into the tributary ravine did Rodney cease to

76 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

urge the animal on. Then he even slackened Pink-
eye's speed in order to round the abrupt turn in
safety.

As he did this, another volley of shots told him
that the scouts were still in desperate pursuit and
determined to contest every possible chance to
escape; but again their balls fell wide of the mark.

Once safely around the difficult turn, he again
bent every effort to regain his former speed.

Before the scouts came once more in view, a
glad shout broke from the lad, for at the end of the
ravine, not a hundred rods beyond, he caught sight
of the camp of the rifles and the government scouts.

CHAPTER VIII.

A FORAGING EXPEDITION.

THE significance of Rodney's yell seemed to be
instantly understood by both his pursuers and
the friends in front of him, for scarcely had the
echoes died away when he saw that a detachment of
horsemen break from the ranks of government scouts
and come to his relief with all possible speed; but
the shots and the clatter of hoofs behind him sud-
denly stopped and he rightly guessed that the rebel
scouts had not only abandoned all hope of capturing
him but were making good their own escape.

He therefore slackened his speed and made the
remaining distance to camp in greater leisure, for
old Pink-eye was well-spent and winded by the long
and rapid journey of the day and the exciting race
with which it had ended.

As the posse of scouts in pursuit of the rebels
who had given Rodney so close a chase urged their
horses past him, they gave him rousing cheers at
the sight of the child.

The reception which was given him in camp, as he
handed his burden into Gilroy's arms and dismounted,
was enough to have made a full-grown man proud,
to say nothing of a boy.

As he suspected from their behavior, the troops

had heard the story of the lost child and there was
6 77

78 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

not a man of them who would not have risked his
own life to save the little girl.

Not only did the scouts gather about Rodney to
hear an account of his adventure, but they were
joined by the captains and even Lord Melgund and
Gen. Middleton.

Meantime the child had been given into the care
of the physician, for fear that the intense strain
through which it had just passed, following instantly
upon partaking of the first food after so terrible a
fast, might result seriously.

"Someone ought to go at once and tell the mother
that the child is found," suggested Gilroy. Espe-
ically as it is decided best to keep her under the doc-
tor's charge until she is out of all danger from the
fast and excitement."

"Let the boy go himself. He's earned it," added
Captain French.

This suggestion was accepted as a happy one by
all, and Rodney, mounted on a fresh horse and ac-
companied by Gilroy set out to find the mother.

After visiting several of the cabins in the vicin-
ity of the woods where Rodney had found the dis-
tressed mother, they at last approached one which
well was concealed in the timber.

" Hark!" exclaimed Rodney, stopping his horse,
" I can hear somebody crying!"

"Sounds like it; don't it? I guess we're on the
right track this time," responded Gilroy.

A nearer approach to the little cabin confirmed
their hopes, for a low, pitiful wailing that sounded

A FORAGING EXPEDITION. 79

strangely wierd and uncanny in the deepening shad-
ows of the dusk, became clearer.

A dog bounded from his lair and under the cabin
and came forward, growling and showing his teeth
with a savage dignity that indicated to Gilroy and
Rodney that his bite promised to be more dangerous
than his bark.

" Helloo!" called Gilroy loudly at the house, and
then added, in an undertone, to Rodney:

" I don't believe that I'd like to trouble the hen-
roosts around this place until reasonably certain
hat this bloody cur is out of the way."

Rodney noticed that the wailing had ceased with
the first growl of the dog.

In a moment the door opened wide enough to
show the dim outline of a woman's face.

"Who be ye; an' what ye want?" said a cracked
voice, intended to be very bold and forbidding, but
which betrayed the fear with which the woman was
shaking.

" We're friends. Can you tell us where we can
find the woman whose little child was lost?" replied
Gilroy.

In an instant the door flew wide open and the
mother dashed out, nearly capsizing the woman who
stood in the door.

"Where is she?" demanded the mother, with a
fierceness which almost frightened Rodney.

Before he coufd reply she sank down upon the
steps of the cabin, threw her apron back over her
head and began to rock back and forth moaningly:

80 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

" Oh, you needn't tell me! She's dead! dead!
Oh, Jean!"

" No! No!" quickly interrupted Gilroy. " She's
found! She's all safe, back at the camp, where the
doctor is giving her food and medicine. This lad,
here, found her."

Rodney half expected that the woman would be
profuse in expressions of gratitude at this at least
it was the way they always acted in the stories that
he had read.

But she did not. Instead, she became suddenly
quiet almost silent. At last, in a dazed way, she
arose from the steps and staggered, in a confused way,
toward them.

"Take me there quick; can't ye?" she de-
manded.

" Can you ride my horse?" asked Rodney, begin-
ning to dismount.

" No. You ride right along and I'll follow only
hurry up," was the impatient reply.

They did so and she kept close alongside the
horses.

As they approached camp Rodney noticed that
she seemed to wish to shrink from the sight of the
pickets, and he said:

"You needn't be afraid of the soldiers. They're
all sorry for you and are glad that your little girl is
found."

This thoughtful observation reassured the
woman.

As she entered the tent where the child was

A FORAGING EXPEDITION. 8l

quietly sleeping she uttered a low cry and clasped
the little girl against her breast with a ferocious
way which brought swelling lumps into the throats
of the men who chanced to be observers of the
touching scene. In spite of his efforts to hide his
emotion the tears sprang into Rodney's eyes, and
he slipped quietly out of the tent in order to avoid
anything like a "scene" which might occur should
the woman bethink herself to thank him. To see the
inexpressible joy of the mother was thanks enough
for him.

On entering their own tent he realized for the first
time that day, that he was both desperately hungry
and tired.

"Feel pretty well played out?" asked Gilroy in a
tone of kindly sympathy.

"Yes sir rather," replied Rodney, as he settled
limply down upon a blanket.

"Well, I don't wonder! I don't suppose you've
had more 'n a good stiff smell of anything to eat and
you've expended enough energy to require about a
dozen ordinary meals. Just as I thought! so I've
managed to scare up a chicken borrowed it and
now you're going to stay right there while I roast it
for you."

Rodney attempted to protest against this "swap-
ping places" with Gilroy, but the latter good-natured-
ly silenced the boy, and the air was soon fragrant
with the odor of the roasting fowl.

He could scarcely wait for the operation to be
finished, and he ate with an appetite which Gilroy

82 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

declared would have done credit to an Indian who
had not tasted food for a fortnight and did not expect
to for as long again.

"This all makes a mighty good story for me-
almost as good as another fight. Folks like to read
that kind of thing. They'd shed more tears over
that lost child than they would over a dozen dead
scouts killed in an open fight and men who had fam-
ilies depending on them, at that! I'm going to write
it up to-night. Yes, sir, it makes a mighty neat little
story for the fine women who read that London
paper to dim their fashionable eyes over. That's
just the place for it!" soliloquized Gilroy.

"But it isn't quite so fine and easy when you're
right in ityourself, eh?" he added. Not to speak of!
This is the backaching end of the business that
makes a fellow willing to forget all about being a
hero for the sake of stretching out in a blanket and
having eight hours of solid sleep ahead of him'
Well now you just turn in and I'll look atter the
horses and everything else. All you've got to do is
to rest your bones."

This announcement was very comforting to Rod-
ney, who wasted no time in trying to realize that he
was a real hero, and had actually rescued a little
girl from a fearful death. It was not at all as he
had imagined the boy heroes, in the stories he had
read, felt. He was almost as much interested in the
way in which Gilroy looked at the incident, as in
his personal part in it. He thought the matter all
over, as he opened his blanket and stretched out his

A FORAGING EXPEDITION. 83

tired limbs, and determined to read the papers care-
fully and to ask Gilroy more about it, at the first
opportunity.

Although these reflections were made when his
eyes were heavy with on-coming sleep, they marked
what Gilroy afterwards termed the beginning of
"getting his newspaper-eyes open." From that
time he saw everything more or less in the light of
its news value. Everything became less to him in
itself- - in its own actuality-- and he mentally sorted
it into "material," or rejected it because of its fail-
ure to be "material." This way of looking at things,
he found, had its pleasant and its unpleasant side.

"Rather slim layout, isn't it?" remarked Gilroy,
as he surveyed the breakfast on the following
morning.

Rodney was somewhat ashamed to look the
array of chicken-bones "in the face," for they were
gaunt witnesses of the enormity of his appetite on
the preceding evening.

"I'll tell you what's the matter. We've got to
hustle around and scrape up something to eat, right
away quick, or play 'poor Indian' and tighten up
our belts. We're in the enemy's country, you
know, and 'all's fair in love or war'- - at least so far
as hen-roosts and pig pens are concerned."

"But isn't foraging forbidden? I thought there
was such an order," answered Rodney.

"Oh, yes; there's an order out to that effect as a
matter of course; but nobody's expected to pay any
attention to it. I'll warrant more than half the

84 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

rations of fresh meat that comes from the commis-
sary are raised about here, and aren't paid for
either. Of course, the commanders may not know
it- - but I don't imagine they lay awake nights
worrying about ! Just you come out with me and
I'll show you how the trick's done."

While inwardly debating the right and wrong of
this system of "looting" from the enemy, Rodney
followed Gilroy in a saunter about the camp.

" There comes one of the boys with a jag of hay.
Now we'll just lay low behind these bushes and see
him unload."

They did so.

The scout carelessly tossed off the upper por-
tion of the hay, then glanced sharply abc-ut to see if
he was observed. The coast seemed to be clear,
and he made a quick thrust with his arm into the
remainder of the hay, and jerked out a sucking
pig, which had evidently suffered death from
the scout's knife, for it was daubed with fresh
blood.

With a deft fling he shot the roastling under the
flap of his tent.

" We'll drop in on that fellow in about twenty
minutes, and if he don't trot out some of that roast,
I'll make him own up to where he got it," said Gil-
roy, as they wandered aimlessly on.

"See! There comes another jag of hay. Oh
haying's good just now. Horses have to have hay,
you know, if the men do go hungry," laughed Gil-
roy, as they waited for the scout to approach.

A FORAGING EXPEDITION. 85

" Why, that's Lieutenant Johns!" exclaimed Rod-
ney, as the man came nearer.

" That's a fact!" responded Gilroy with elation.
" You stay here, Rodney, and I'll go and see if I
can get anything out of him. If he's had any luck,
I know he'll tell me where to look for some of the
same kind of hay."

In a few moments he returned to where he had
left Rodney, and said:

" We're all right! I told you the lieutenant
would share up with his information. When it be-
gins to get a little dark, we'll make an effort to keep
the wolf from the door."

During the day, the thoughts of the proposed
foraging expedition was constantly in Rodney's
mind, and his reflections upon it were by no means
pleasant or satisfactory. Although he had heard
some of the scouts advance what seemed, at the
time, like very reasonable and logical arguments in
support of the justice of an army living upon the
products of a people in active rebellion and war-
fare against the government, he could not help feel-
ing that it was a cruel and pitiable thing to take the
cattle, pigs and poultry without recompense from
the poor women, who must starve when these scanty
possessions were gone.

He at last reached the conclusion, that the only
circumstances under which foraging was justifiable,
were when those from whom the property was
looted were in comfortable circumstances, in which
they would never feel in need of the property taken.

86 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

" Does the place we're going to belong to one
of the poor settlers, or to some one who will never
miss what we are going after?" inquired Rodney,
as Gilroy told him at evening to get up their
horses.

" Oh, it's one of the largest places around here.
They could afford to give us each a good beef, and
throw in a roasting pig, a turkey and a couple of
chickens, and never know the difference," laughed
Gilroy. "And besides, they knew that their prop-
erty was subject to confiscation when they went into
the fight. They accepted it as one of the inevitable
conditions now let them abide by it."

Although this partially appeased Rodney's con-
scientious scruples, he still felt disagreeably like a
sneak-thief and plunderer and wished himself well
out of the business a dozen times before they ap-
proached the prosperous farm where they were to
put their plans in operation.

"Now you go up to the house and buy us a jag
of hay, but don't pay more than a quarter for it at
the most not if you have to talk all night for it.
They'll give it to you for that if you hang on and
beat them down long enough. When you get
through, come back here."

Rodney went to the house wondering that Gilroy
should have so easily abandoned his intention to
secure the supplies without bargain and sale.

As Gilroy expected, Rodney was greeted by the
watch dog. As soon as he heard this comfortable
assurance that the brute's attentions were engaged

A FORAGING EXPEDITION. 8?

with Rodney, Gilroy tied his horse and made a short
cut ''cross lots" to the sheep fold.

It took him but a moment to select a couple of
choice spring lambs and make them victims of his
knife before the remainder of the flock was scarcely
aware of the presence of an invader.

He tied their heels together, returned to his
horse and hung them over the animal's back.

"I guess they'll carry all right there. Now for a
side-dish of chicken or turkey, just for variety," he
meditated, as he retraced his steps to the buildings.

"That looks to me decidedly like the hen-roost,"
he again soliloquized, pushing open the door.

The rooster gave a low note of alarm. He
paused just in time to hear voices approaching.

It was Rodney and the hired man coming for
the hay. The proprietor was with Riel.

Confound it, I'm in a box now! That boy's too
innocent for any earthly use!" were Gilroy's inward
exclamations as the voices grew nearer.

Fortunately for the newspaper man, Rodney had
chanced to see him slip in the hen house, while the
hired man was taking a fresh chew of tobacco from
his pouch, and the whole truth had dawned upon
him. He quickly determined upon a desperate ruse
to allow Gilroy chance to escape, for he felt sure
that the dog would at once track the latter to his
retreat as soon as it struck its trail.

"Hark!" exclaimed Rodney, "there's something
the matter in the sheep fold. Do you suppose any-
one's trying to make way with your lambs?"

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

; 'Here, Tige!" was the man's only answer. "Go
take care of the sheep!"

The dog bounded away with a threatening growl
toward the fold.

"I'll look out here and you can go around the
other side of the barn, there," again suggested Rod-
ney, with a presumptory decision that the man
instantly accepted.

He had no sooner disappeared around the corner
of the barn than Rodney stepped close to the hen
house door and called, in a low undertone, to
Gilroy:

"Now you can get away across the pasture there.
But you'll have to be lively."

"All right!" was the quiet answer.

A moment later the lusty squawk of a fowl sent
a cold chill through Rodney's nerves. But the
sound was quickly nipped into an abrupt "g-l-k" as
Gilroy's hand closed its grip about the neck of the
unfortunate hen.

" Just for luck !" exclaimed Gilroy, dashing out
of the hen house door and flourishing the fowl at
Rodney, as he brushed past him and leaped the fence.

He had scarcely gone a dozen rods beyond the
fence when the dog, followed by the man, were seen
running from the fold.

"There he goes! There he goes !' shouted Rod-
ney, when he saw that the man had caught sight of
Gilroy's retreating figure.

"You follow him on foot and I'll go round on my
horse," called Rodney.

A FORAGING EXPEDITION. 89

This served to delay the man for a momen) -but
not the dog.

The brute lunged ahead, uttering a fierce jay at
every leap, while Rodney mounted his ho* *e and
galloped down the road as though in greatest haste
to cut off Gilroy's retreat.

Meantime he drew his revolver from its holster
and prepared to open fire upon the dog when it
should seem necessary.

He could see that the dog was gaiaing upon
Gilroy, but the distance between himself and the
dog was too great for him to hope for any effect
with his revolver.

A sudden splash, followed by a loud fjxcl'amation,
told Rodney that his partner-in-crime had suffered
some sort of a mishap.

There was evidently no time to lose, and Rodney
fired a trio of shots in rapid succession at the dog.
One of these evidently chanced to take effect, for
dog gave a howl of pain and the hired-man yelled :

" Let the feller go! Let him go or you'll kill
the dog an' me too."

The terrified farm hand then called the dog off,
and the courageous brute went limping unwillingly
back to a place of safety.

As the hired man disappeared into the distant
shadows, Rodney hitched Pink-eye and hastened to
Gilroy's assistance.

" Look out ! " exclaimed the latter, " Don't you
get into the same slew hole that I'm stuck in. I'm
most up to my neck here ! '

9O THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

" But I'm going through, just the same! And
I've got that chicken all right, too! 'live or di^,
sink or swim, survive or perish.'

Rodney could not contain his amusement at the
plight that Gilroy presented on at last making nis
way on to dry land.

He had fallen flat into the mire, and the entire
front of his person was dripping with the thick,
black grime of the bog.

Gilroy surveyed himself for a moment, and then
joined Rodney in merriment at his own expense.

" You must have swallowed considerable of it,"
said Rodney.

" Yes," responded Gilroy, " I bit the mud but
not the dust. Now we must be getting out of
this."

"How's that for high?' he again exclaimed
pointing with pride at the two lambs laying in front
of his saddle, and enjoying Rodney's surprise at the
sight.

When they were again in their own tent, Gilroy
retired, while Rodney cleaned his clothes and
dressed the lambs and chicken, frequently stopping
to shake with laughter at the recollection of the
pitiable figure which the representative of the
Toronto and London press presented as he crawled
out of the mire of the bog, still holding with des-
perate grip to his looted chicken.

In the morning, as the fragrance of the frying
lamb chops which Rodney was turning in the skillet
greeted Gilroy, the former suggested:

I I

O
W

H
O

A FORAGING EXPEDITION. gi

" Wouldn't that make a mighty good little story
for the fine ladies of London to read just the thing
they would like to shed their tears over? '

" Yes," quickly replied Gilroy; "Exactly! But
I guess I'll tell it on one of the other boys just for
a change."

They would have exchanged more pleasantries
over their ludicrous adventure had not a scout inter-
rupted them with the news that the advance mes-
senger of the reinforcements had arrived, and that
the general had issued orders to break camp and
proceed at once upon Batosch.

" That means business, and lots of it, too," com-
mented Gilroy. I miss my guess if we don't see
more hard fighting there than in all the rest of the
trip; for that's Kiel's stronghold.

This opinion seemed to be shared by the entire
camp, for even the coolest men betrayed a greater
degree of anticipation and excitement than Rodney
had ever seen them show before.

When Rodney remarked this fact to Gilroy, he
replied:

" Certainly. You see Riel is believed to be there
himself, and every man, especially of the scouts,
fancies that he may stand some chance to capture
the big rebel leader and cover himself with glory."

CHAPTER IX,

AN INDIAN AMBUSH.

r I ^HE territory from Fish Creek to Batosch was
1 depressingly barren and desolate, much of it
having been so burned over that the horses could
find only stray patches of thinly sprouting grass.

The grazing was even more scant than along any
portion of their previous march from Ft. Qu'Appelle.

This kind of fare had told perceptibly upon the
horses, and each day brought their ribs into clearer
prominence.

Pink-eye, ho\f ever, was an exception to this rule,
for he had actually "picked up" flesh upon camp
diet. For a time this was a puzzle to Rodney, but
the mystery was cleared up one morning when he
chanced to find the animal smelling about the ashes
of an extinct camp fire and picking up bits of the
refuse meat, which he devoured as greedily as wolv-
erine.

This thrifty propensity of his shaganappy, how-
ever, came very near getting Rodney into trouble.

Early in the morning of the second day out from
Fish Creek, Rodney and Gilroy were awakened by a
loud voice at the door of their tent.

There stood a scout, with old Pin-keye in tow.

The man was in anything but an amiable mood
and breathed out threatenings of slaughter against

AN INDIAN AMBUSH. 93

the shaganappy provided Rodney did not, in future,
keep him securely tethered instead of allowing the
freedom of the camp.

"Well, what's the matter? Why don't you tell
us what you're kicking about?" demanded Gilroy, of
the excited scout.

" We've been missing candles from our tent
several times, of late, until I got tired of it and made
up my mind to put a stop to it. So last night, after
I had just got a fresh ration of them, I put the
package under my pillow, which was close against
the side of the tent. About half an hour ago I was
awakened by something pulling at my hair. Frag-
ments of the paper in which the candles had been
wrapped were laying about where my head had
rested; but the candles were gone every last one of
'em! I was sure that it was the work of some pilfer-
ing animal. Jumping to my feet, I grabbed my rifle
and rushed out of the tent. Just outside of where I
had been laying stood this spotted old reprobate,
munching the remains of that dozen candles. I
grabbed up a stick, that happened to be laying handy
by, and was going to lay it onto the thief when
the brute turned its heels toward me, laid back his
ears and rolled his pink eyes in a way that made me
conclude not to meddle with him. After he had
finished his meal he allowed me to put a tether on
him and lead him here. If he'd nipped a little closer
that time he'd have lifted my whole scalp, instead
of just taking a stray tuft out of my hair."

Gilroy made no attempt to conceal his amuse-

94 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

ment at the fellow's ludicrous fright, and laughed to
his face so heartily that the offended scout conclud-
ed to make the best of it, and joined Gilroy and
Rodney in their fun.

"Now I'll tell you what we'll do," promptly
responded Gilroy, as the man was about to leave.
"That horse is going to have his liberty the same as
the others; and if he's smart enough to forage for
himself, all right. If you make no more complaint
about the horse, well and good; but if you want to
make any bother I'll give the whole thing away to
the boys and they'll get more comfort out of it than
you will you may depend upon that."

The man seemed to take the same view of the
matter, after a moment's reflection, for he replied:

"All right. We'll let it drop at that."

"He'd better! " was Gilroy's comment to Rodney,
as the scout turned upon his heel and walked away,
"for if the boys once get hold of that they'll call
him 'candles' till the war's over, and will make life
a burden to him generally.

"Here we are! See the steeple of the old
church! And down in the valley beyond is Batosch"
exclaimed Gilroy to Rodney, on the third day's
march from Fish Creek.

The quaint old cathedral stood on the high
bank, overlooking the village, which nestled close
to the turbid Saskatchewan.

The troops took a position on the eminence to
the left of the church, while almost in front of them

AN INDIAN AMBUSH. 95

was a deep ravine, which opened into the valley
near the village.

Adjacent to the church was the old burial ground,
with its picturesque cross standing guard over its
consecrated soil.

Interest was quickly centered upon the array of
wigwams which stood in plain view upon the other
bank of the Saskatchewan, opposite the town.

Before the troops had fairly pitched camp an
eighteen-pound gun was trained upon the Indian
encampment, and poured a volley of v shells into it.
This had an instant and telling effect. Squaws,
bearing papooses and every sort of domestic utensil,
could be seen retreating in the greatest confusion.

Rodney also noticed that there were but few
men to be seen, and those did not have on their war
paint.

He took this as a sign that the warriors were
absent in some other section, and he was almost
disappointed at the thought that they would see
nothing of Indian fighting.

Meantime, the commanders were taking a care-
ful survey of the land.

"A few of you scouts go down into the ravine
and see if it's occupied," was the general's command.

"Want to go with 'em?" said Gilroy, turning to
Rodney.

"Yes," was the boy's eager reply.

"I don't believe there's any particular danger-
at least, the captain don't seem to think there is.
We'll chance it anyway."

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT,

Accordingly they joined the little squad of
scouts, which descended into the wooded ravine.
It seemed as quiet and deserted save for the birds
which occasionally chirped and fluttered in the
branches.

Lieutenant Johns was too skillful a scout, how-
ever, to proceed without due caution; and he had
his men hitch their ponies in a sheltered spot,
accessible to the trail leading back to camp.

Then they carefully picked their way along
through the thick timber without exchanging a word
with each other.

After exploring the portion of the ravine to-
ward the village, they retraced their course, passed
their horses, and reconnoitered a short distance in
the opposite direction.

Rodney thought how splendidly romantic and
exciting it was to be stealing stealthily through the
woods, in search of a hidden foe, in real warfare; and
he resolved to give the boys back at the fort, a full
account of the experience. Just as he was picturing
how intently they would listen to his recital, he
caught sight of a single figure on the opposite side
of the ravine.

He touched Gilroy's arm and pointed at the
sentinel.

At that moment the command echoed through
the ravine:

"Retire : scouts !"

How warlike it sounded, and how it would ap-
peal to the boys!

AN INDIAN AMBUSH. 97

The little company of scouts wheeled about, and
were leisurely walking toward their horses, when
suddenly, like an electric shock, the first war-cry ot
Indians that Rodney had ever heard, smote his
ears, and made him chill and quiver with excite-
ment.

" Down! And break for your horses!" was the
lieutenant's informal order.

There was small need for a command to crouch
low, for the instinct of self-preservation would have
dictated that, as the crack of rifles from the am-
bush, in the thickest portion of the timber, followed
the war-cry.

The bullets whizzed and screamed over the heads
of the scouts, and Rodney, for an instant, fancied
himself wounded, as a ball tore a splinter from a
dry stub close beside him, hurled it against his arm.

In his previous adventures, Rodney had not
had the feeling that he would be shot. But even
after discovering that it was a harmless sliver, in-
stead of a ball, which had brushed against his arm,
he experienced, for some moments, the keenest fear.
It seemed to him, as he crouched down and dodged
from the cover of one tree to another, that he would
surely be the victim of one of the balls which
poured from the invisible guns of the hidden sav-
ages, whose ghastly war-cry still mingled with the
crackling discharge of their rifles.

This fear intensified into a morbid despair when
he saw that to reach their horses, they must leave
he cover of the timber, and cross an open which

98 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

was only sparsely studded with clumps of small
bushes and undergrowth.

Upon coming to this clearing, Lieutenant Johns,
who was in the lead, dropped upon his hands and
knees, snatched his knife from his belt, placed it be-
tween his teeth, and crawled rapidly over the rough
ground toward the horses.

Every member of the party instantly followed
his example.

How slowly the crawling line seemed to move!
As a bullet buried itself in the ground a few feet
beyond him, the likeness of their situation, to the
perils which he had encountered in nightmares, came
to him, but without that second-consciousness which
always gave him in the dreams, a comforting though
shadowy assurance that he would waken into safety
just before the fatal calamity should overtake
him.

But this feeling vanished when he reached the
tree to which old Pink-eye was hitched, cut the strap
and leaped into the saddle.

Many of the other horses were plunging so
furiously that their owners could scarcely release
and mount them; consequently Rodney was among
those who lead the plunge up the trail, almost di-
rectly in front of the Indians' ambush.

In the saddle, with his tried and faithful horse
under him, leaping forward with the swift strides
that had carried him into safety on other occasions
of danger, his old courage returned to him, and he
was conscious of no little shame at the thought of

AN INDIAN AMBUSH. 99

the fear which he had entertained when crawling
behind the bushes.

It was a more desperate undertaking to attempt
to run the gauntlet of the Indians' rifle-pits, when
upon their horses and fully exposed to their fire,
than it had been to skulk behind the trees and
bushes; but Rodney did not shrink from the charge.

The little posse of scouts had gone but a few
rods, and had still the most dangerous part of their
ride before them, when another surprise greeted
them.

It was the belching of the gatling gun under
charge of Captain Young. He pushed steadily for-
ward to the relief of the scouts, until in the very
face of the savages. The constant and deadly fire
of the gatling accomplished the captain's purpose
by throwing the Indians into momentary confusion,
in the interval of which the scouts made a successful
dash past the braves into the shelter of the timber
and up the trail, where they soon joined the remain-
der of their company.

"Well, we're out of the woods this time!' ex-
claimed Lieutenant Johns to Captain French, as
they rode together toward the general's head-
quarters.

" Yes," replied the latter, "but we've got to fight
it out there sooner or later, for the enemy must be
dislodged from that ravine before we can take the
town. And it'll be a nasty fight, too, for it's just the
place that suits a sneaking Indian to do his best
work in. He can hide in the thick timber and shoot

IOO THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

without being seen and that's meat to a Red skin."
This prophecy in regard to another engagement
in the ravine was verified not long after by the com-
mand of Colonel Williams:

"You scouts go down yonder and do some good."
Meantime Rodney had been suffering from a
repentant recollection of his fright, which seemed to
him, upon calm and conscientious self-examination,
so much like outright cowardice that he deter-
mined to retrieve his self-respect at the first oppor-
tunity.

He therefore hailed the order to again enter the
ravine with more of joy than regret.

CHAPTER X.

UNDER DOUBLE FIRE.

RODNEY'S resolutions to acquire himself with
courage was called into severe and immediate
action, for in order to reach the place of vantage
necessary to fire with any effect upon the Indians,
the scouts were obliged to descend into the ravine
in the face of a steady fire from the secreted
Indians, whose rifle pits were carefully planted
through the thickest of the timber and up the steep
bank on the opposite side.

To deliberately advance against such a sure and
steady fire without the opportunity to return a single
shot required the most unflinching kind of courage.
The Indians had built their rifle pits with such
cunning and skill that they could fire from out nar-
row cracks and through small crevices without ex-
posing themselves in the least.

When at last Captain French had succeeded in
leading his men to the position from which he hoped
to secure at least a partial view of the enemy, he
found himself foiled and disappointed. Not a single
Indian could be seen. On the other hand, the
scouts were in direct range for the rifles of the
Indians.

Each man picked out the largest tree or stump
that was accessible and stationed himself behind it.

101

102 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

Some were fortunate enough to get behind fallen
trees which formed excellent breastworks.

Among these were Gilroy and Rodney.

They had scarcely settled down comfortably be-
hind their natural fortification when Gilroy began to
shake with laughter. Pointing to their right he ex-
claimed, between paroxysms of mirth.

"Just look at 'The Fat Man From Assinaboia,'
over there trying to screen himself behind the small-
est tree in the whole grove. There's the irony of
fate for you! The biggest, broadest, fattest man in
the whole company pitted behind a tree that would
hardly shelter the slimest man in the camp! See him
twist and turn to see whether he will expose the
narrowest margin of himself when standing edge-
wise or squarely facing the enemy!"

Even in the presence of the dangerthat they and the
fleshy scout were facing, Gilroy and Rodney laughed
at the fellow's predicament until they were sore.

When their first amusement at the ridiculous
spectacle was over Gilroy added seriously :

"They'll hit him yet if he don't get out of there.
It's simply a question of the tree being too
narrow and the man too wide. He might better
drop and crawl for a better shelter."

Rodney's attention was next drawn to a party of
half-a-dozen scouts who, like Gilroy and himself,
had been lucky enough to get behind a large, pros-
trate tree.

"See! What are they doing there?' inquired

Rodney.

UNDER DOUBLE FIRE. 103

Gilroy watched the men in silence for a few
moments and then replied :

"They're passing Captain Young's cap from one to
another in order to fool the Indians. He did some
tall fighting against them in putting down the Min-
nesota uprising, and they remember him and are
after his head. You just notice that whenever that
cap bobs up it draws the fire of the Indians every time.

It required but a brief observation to demonstrate
this to Rodney.

The scouts had fired but few shots, for the Red-
skins were so well concealed that it was only at rare
intervals that the slightest glimpse of them was to
be had.

At last the delay seemed to become intolerable
to the scouts, who were subjected to a constant fusil-
lade from the Indians. This helpless and impotent
situation seemed to prey especially upon the impet-
uous Irish nature of Captain French, who was
kneeling behind a stump. Exasperated and mad-
dened to the pitch of frenzy, the dashing captain
leaped from his shelter and stood out in fair view
while he shook his fist at the Indians, and with the
strongest oaths in his soldier's vocabulary called
upon the Indians to come out and fight like men.

Talk about there not being an Irish language !
Just listen to that, will you !" exclaimed Gilroy,
" there isn't a pilot on the Mississippi who could
pay that back in like coin ! '

The Captain's reckless exposure was the signal
for a rattling discharge of rifles from the pits.

104 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"Well if that don't beat all the fool things that I
ever saw ! ' commented Gilroy, as the Captain
at last dropped behind his stump, unharmed. " I
should have thought he would have a dozen bullets
in him by this time."

Rodney's thoughts were divided between specu-
lations upon the almost miraculous escape of the fool-
hardy man and wondering how long they would be
held in so exasperating a position, \vhen the shrill
scream of a ball made both Gilroy and himself
instinctively dodge down closer to the ground.

Without saying a word Rodney placed his finger
beside the spot where a bullet from behind them
had imbedded itself in the near surface of the log not
a foot from either of them.

" Great Heavens! our troops up in the old grave
yard are taking us for half breeds! That comes of
scouts dressing like heathens. We'll have to be get-
ting out of here lively or there won't be enough left
of us to tell the tale!"

This conviction must have revealed itself almost
simultaneously to the Captain's, for the command to
retreat was soon sounded.

As Rodney scrambled to his feet he heard a sharp
cry of pain near at hand followed by the exclamation:

" I've got it, boys! "

" Where is the fellow? ' inquired Gilroy as they
paused and looked about them.

" There he is the fat man!' answered Rodney,
pointing to the prostrate man who was endeavoring
to crawl toward them.

UNDER DOUBLE FIRE.

"Here! We must carry him on our rifles
this way You go to his feet and I'll carry the heavy
end, " ordered Gilroy, as he slipped the guns under
the wounded man.

"Now up with him. Hee-o-hee!" continued Gil-
roy as though directing a gang of men at a barn
raising.

They staggered forward with their heavy burden,
while the bullets from both directions were singing
over their heads.

" Can you hold out a little longer just 'till we
catch up on the rest of the lads a little more?" called
back Gilroy from his position in advance.

Although he had begun to feel that he could
scarcely go another rod without dropping his
end of the burden, the question put new strength
into Rodney's limbs and he answered :

"Yes, I'm all right."

"Wish those ninnies up in the grave-yard
there were down here under this double fire for
a few minutes!" sententiously observed Gilroy as a
ball from the troops whizzed especially close to them.

After going several rods more, Rodney was on
the point of telling Gilroy that he could go no
further without a pause for rest, when he heard
behind him the same fearful war whoop of the Indians
that had struck such terror through him on his pre-
vious adventure in the ravine.

"Lads! the Redskins are charging! Drop me and
save yourselves you can't save me!' 1 suddenly
exclaimed the wounded comrade.

IO6 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"No!"

"Not to speak of!" were the answers with which
Rodney and Gilroy respectively met this suggestion.

As the other scouts heard the war cry of the
Indians and saw that they were coming out of their
hiding places, the temptation to pause in their retreat,
under the double fire of friend in front, and enemy
in the rear, to turn upon the Redskins and give them
a few shots, was too strong to be resisted.

Seeing Gilroy and Rodney carrying the scout, a
squad of comrades immediately surrounded them.

Two of this welcome re-inforcement relieved the
"newspaper brigade" of its burden, while the others
surrounded the disabled man to defend him in case
the Indians pressed their charge.

Captains French and Young stood their ground
with eager resolution so long as an Indian had the
hardihood to expose himself in the least to their
fire. But as soon as the savages reached the ground
originally occupied by the scouts, where the balls
from the troops in the grave yard were thickest, they
came to a halt.

Numerous bullets from the same source, how-
ever, still fell among the government scouts, and
the order to retreat was again reluctantly given.

The dash into the open spot, where they could
be plainly seen by their friends in the grave-yard,
was the most disastrous portion of the retreat, and
for a few moments both the Indians and the regulars
poured a savage fire upon them, thinning their ranks
as rapidly as the half-breeds had done at Fish Creek.

UNDER DOUBLE FIRE. 107

It made Rodney sick at heart to listen to the
groans of the wounded, and the awful brutality of
war came home to him with a force that left a lasting
impression upon his mind.

He stayed near the disabled man whom Gilroy
and he had carried, and had the satisfaction of see-
ing the sufferer borne into the clearing without
further injuries. Their entry into the center of the
open had the effect of first drawing upon them a
brisk volley from the grave-yard detachment.
Although it was of but momentary duration, it made
sad havoc among the scouts; but the abruptness with
which the firing ceased, told the unfortunate com-
pany in the ravine that the troops had at last identi-
fied them as friends and that the principal danger
was now over.

Rodney expected that the scouts would hold the
occupants of the grave-yard to strictest account and
regard them with a bitter enmity; but he discovered
his mistake as soon as the two parties met.

The scouts accepted the mistake as a very natural
one, for their dress was similar to that of the half-
breeds, and their faces could not have been distin-
guishable from so great a distance.

" It's hard enough to be under one fire, but when
it comes to having friends double it, that's a little
more than I bargained for, and I don't propose to
be caught in that kind of a trap again not if I know
it!" good-naturedly grumbled Gilroy, as he and
Rodney sat about their camp-fire, over which their

supper was cooking, that evening.

IO8 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

" But you wouldn't know it, in the first place, and
if you did, it wouldn't be like you to keep out of any
fight, no matter how dangerous," replied Rodney.

Gilroy laughed at this outspoken remark in a way
which indicated his pleasure, both at Rodney's
candor and the compliment to his courage, which
the lad's remark implied.

The difference in position, age and experience
between the boy and his employer had rapidly
diminished under the close intimacy of camp life and
mutual dangers which they had shared, until both
seemed to forget their business relations and become
only companions. This was the more possible from
the fact that Gilroy retained his boyishness to an
unusual degree, while Rodney was daily making
strides of sudden advancement in wordly experience.

CHAPTER XL

CAMP SCENES.

HOW would you like to come along with me
over to the captain's tent? I'm going for a
little talk with him on the general state of things
before writing up my account of to-day's engage-
ment."

"Certainly; I would like to very much, if it
would not be an intrusion," Rodney answered eager-
ly, for despite the exciting activities about him, the
boy's interest had been thoroughly aroused upon
the question of newspaper work, and his mind was
keenly alert to grasp every fresh detail concerning
it. He had constantly cherished since listening to
Gilroy's first account of the wonders of a great
modern newspaper "plant," the determination to re-
vive the subject and learn all that Gilroy could tell
him of the mental as well as mechanical process of
preparing a metropolitan daily for its readers.

As they walked together toward Captain
French's tent, the thought came to him that prob-
ably no department of newspaper work was more
picturesque and interesting than that in which Gil-
roy was engaged, and he determined to keep his
eyes open and let no feature of it escape him. This
was no idle impulse of the moment, but an intelli-
gent appreciation of the practical value of the

109

IIO THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

experiences through which he was passing and the
intuition that, in order to appropriate their value to
himself and turn it to the greatest personal account,
he must not only make a close observation of the
scenes of each day, but also grasp the method by
which the war correspondent converted them into
news, thus cultivating by observation and study of
Gilroy's work the judgment necessary to select from
all the facts and scenes those which were worthy to
be utilized as news.

When they arrived at the Captain's tent he
received them with genuine Irish cordiality and
dismissed all other business to devote his entire
attention to his newspaper guests.

Rodney carefully noticed every question which
Gilroy put to the Captain and the answers some-
times frank and profuse, sometimes short and
evasive which that officer returned.

The drift of these questions was soon apparent
to Rodney. It was clear to him that Gilroy was
seeking to learn whether any information concern-
ing the whereabouts of the rebel chief had been
gained. But if such information was in possession
of Captain French then he was clever enough to give
out the impression that he was as ignorant as the
newspaper correspondent himself as to where Riel
was intrenched.

"Do you think there will be anything in particu-
lar doing to-morrow?" inquired Gilroy.

"No; I think not just a little skirmishing around
the edges. I think the General's plan is to let up

CAMP SCENES. Ill

up for a day, in order to get a good ready to
charge the town. Or, as the Irishman puts it, he
proposes to spit on his hands in order to get a bet-
ter hold."

"Well; that'll give me a good chance to get off my
specials, then."

"And that means another ride to the station for
you," he added, turning to Rodney.

As they arose to go, the Captain seemed to drop
the official character which he had maintained dur-
ing the interview, and laying his hand upon Gilroy's
shoulder he exclaimed.

"My boy! I feel that I'm going to come out of this
all right and get back my old place and standing."

"I hope so Captain, but you know there's many
a slip, and-so-forth" was Gilroy's reply.

"Yes: we can't most always tell. But I'm bound
to get reinstated if there's such a thing in the
cards! And win it out of their very teeth, too!"

"But for goodness sake, French, don't do another
fool thing like the way you stood out in front of
those Indians in the ravine and invited them to shoot
at you. You'll just throw your life away by such
useless recklessness, next time."

With this reproving speech the two friends
separated.

On their way back to their own tent, Rodney
inquired:

" What did Captain French mean by getting hi?
old place back out of their teeth?'

" He does seem to feel cut up over that yet/

112 THE VOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

mused Gilroy aloud, as though he had already
answered Rodney's question.

" Oh, I'll tell you about that," he resumed, after
a momentary pause. " The Captain used to hold a
good position in the mounted police. Their regu-
lations are very strict, and an officer who has a mind
to can find occasion to discipline anyone under him
without half trying. French failed to please his
commander in some way and was discharged. He
claims that his dismissal was unjust, and I believe it
was. So he's determined to distinguish himself by
special bravery in this insurrection, and win back his
old place as a reward. It'll be too bad if he don't,
for his heart's set on it poor fellow! '

This information shed a new light upon the
conduct and character of the genial and brilliant
Irish officer, which multiplied their fascination in
Rodney's eyes, and made them appear far more
dramatic, not to say pathetic, in his eyes. As he
thought the matter over before dropping into sleep,
his impatience grew upon him to know the result of
the events which would soon determine whether the
Captain's ambition would be gratified or denied.

In the morning, as he had expected, Gilroy was
ready with the dispatches, and after a hasty break-
fast Rodney leaped into his saddle and was off for
the telegraph station.

He stopped Pink-eye, after having made a start
of a few rods, to ask of Gilroy permission to read
the specials. This was cheerfully granted, and he
then allowed the shaganappy, which had had but

CAMP SCENES. 113

little riding for a couple of days, to break into a
brisk canter. He knew that the hardy animal would
hold this "gait" hour after hour, and bring him back
to camp again much sooner than Gilroy expected,
providing no adventure or calamity detained them.

As Pink-eye loped steadily and easily forward,
he read the pages of Gilroy's dispatch without
difficulty, for there was a bold, sharp freedom in
correspondent's "hand-writing," which rendered it
almost as distinct as print.

The scene of the previous day seemed strangely
heroic when viewed through the article. The narra-
tive gave him a broader and more complete under-
standing of the entire situation of which the advent-
ures in the ravine, which had seemed so all-
important to Rodney, were but episodes.

"Well, I could come nearer to writing an account
like that now than before reading this dispatch, and
I'm going to write up the next engagement myself,
just to see what I can do with it," mused Rodney,
after having delivered the special and began his
backward journey, which was accomplished without
any incidents of special interest.

There was no lack of excitement in the camp,
however, for it had become generally understood
that the following day would be devoted to a charge
upon Batosch.

"Why wouldn't Captain French tell you outright
whether or not he knew anything about where Riel
is believed to be?" asked Rodney, as Gilroy and
himself rolled up in their blankets that evening.

114 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"Because he didn't want me or anyone else to
think he suspects where Riel is to be found.
It is his ambition to captufe the big rebel him-
self, and in that matter he has every man in the
service for a rival. He'd risk his life a dozen times
for the mere chance of bagging Riel."

The camp was astir early and Gilroy was about
headquarters, "getting the lay of the land," as he
told Rodney.

"We'll follow French, for he'll be where Riel is
if the fellow is anywhere in the town," he added.

Consequently they cast their lot with the dashing
Irish captain, although knowing that he would be
foremost in every available danger.

Before the forces were ready for the charge
Rodney rode alone to the picket line nearest the
church, looking idly for something of interest to
"turn up."

The rifles held this advance position.

Rodney sat on his shaganappy beside one of
these handsome young fellows, when the latter sud-
denly exclaimed:

"Now I see him, the dare-devil rascal! He's been
cutting ofFour men steadily; but I guess it's about
his last trick!" And with this the rifleman brought
his repeater to his shoulder.

At first glance it appeared to Rodney that the
rifleman was aiming into mid-air; but a swift glance
along the barrel of the arm revealed the fact that it
was headed upon the figure of a man upon the
belfrey of the church.

CAMP SCENES. 11$

A moment after the white smoke puffed from the
muzzle of the gun and' the sharpshooter reeled from
his lofty perch and w$ht careering down, headfore-
most to the ground.

Although the comrades of the rifleman congrat-
ulated him upon his brilliant shot, and the man
seemed to consider it with the same cool pride
that he would have done had his victim been a
turkey instead of a human being, Rodney could
not catch this spirit, and the ghastly sight lingered
in his mind after he had turned back to join
Gilroy.

'The scouts are going down into the ravine again'
into the rifle pits which were constructed last night.
I suppose we might as well go with them" was Gil-
roy's greeting.

"Yes, sir, responded Rodney, who did not really
relish the announcement with quite the enthusiasm
that his promptness indicated.

They joined Lieutenant Johns' detachment, and
went down into the ravine, under a brisk fire from
the enemy.

Many of the pits were already occupied, and they
were obliged to scatter into such of them as were
not entirely full. As usual Gilroy and Rodney con-
trived to find a place together.

"Well; this is a little more comfortable fighting
than previous occasions have afforded in the ravine.
Nothing like having something in front of a fellow
when facing a fire from Indians and Half Breeds!"
philosophized Gilroy.

Il6 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"Yes; it's a good deal better than being under a
cross fire," admitted Rodney.

Hour after hour passed until the intermittent
discharge of rifles at the ambushed rebels, who
blocked the ravine between the scouts and the town,
grew almost monotonous.

In a moment of unusual quiet the sound of dis-
tant cheering reached the ears of Rodney, who
exclaimed:

"Hark! What's that?"

"That's the yell of the Midland Rifles. They're
charging the town! Come let's get out of this,
lively! I want to be on hand as soon as they enter
the village, if possible," exclaimed Gilroy excitedly.

Then came the call for the. scouts to hasten
along the trail past the old church and through the
timber to the town.

"We're with you!" replied Lieutenant Johns, also
leaping from the rifle-pit and joining the newspaper
scouts in their dash toward the other troops.

"Now for it boys!" was the greeting of Captain
French, who stood waiting with the remainder of
his company on the bank of the ravine, eager for
the crucial charge, in which he hoped to win, by
gallant fighting, the coveted restoration to his old
rank in the mounted police.

CHAPTER XII.

THE ROUT OF THE REBELS.

FROM the intense excitement of those about
him Rodney divined that the supreme moment
of the insurrection had come in the charge upon
the Rebel stronghold of Batosch, and he also was im-
pressed with the fact that somehow it was to be a
great day in the life of Captain French, who had
been much in his thoughts since hearing Gilroy's
interesting account of the captain's career.

No sooner had they passed on through the tim-
ber than they saw the Midland Rifles a short dis-
tance beyond, making a dashing descent upon the
village.

The Half Breeds and their allies, however, were
hotly contesting every rod of their way, and pour-
ing a cutting fire into the troops.

They were met by several litters upon which the
wounded were being carried back to a place of
safety. It wrung Rodney's heart to even glance at
the poor fellows, but there was no time to pause.

He determined to keep close to Captain French at
all hazards, for not only did the unfinished drama of
the man's life hold him with a more powerful fasci-
nation than the most thrilling story that he had ever
read, but he also realized that the outcome of the

man's part in that day's battle would form a most

Il8 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

interesting chapter in the conflict in which
personal detail and incident would be of value to
Gilroy.

Although it was the work of but a few minutes
to dislodge the Rebels from the village and drive
them to the table land close to the water's edge, it
seemed a long time to Rodney.

Men fell in the death agonies close about him,
but he seemed to have but one thought to keep
near Captain French. This he did at the cost of
many reckless exposures, for the captain was at the
front of the fight, and seemed to court rather than
avoid danger.

It was with a thrill of pleasure that, as Rodney
came alongside the captain, in front of a blacksmith
shop, from which a squad of Rebels had but just
been routed, the officer recognized him and exclaimed:

" Lad, this is no place for you. Better go back
where it isn't so infernal hot!"

Rodney was fearful that this request was to be
made pre-emptory, but if this had been the captain's
intention it was suddenly changed by the course of
events.

As Rodney was listening to the commander's
words, he saw the lower sash of a window in the
neighboring saloon suddenly lift high enough for
the person manipulating it to thrust the butt of a
beer bottle beneath it. Through the opening thus
made the barrel of a rifle appeared, pointing directly
at the captain.

Rodney's first thought was to strike the captain's

THE ROUT OF THE REBELS.

horse a blow which should make the animal leap
forward and allow the ball to pass harmlessly behind
the victim for whom it was intended. But a glance
showed him that he could not reach the horse.
There was but one alternative.

Instantly bringing his rifle to his shoulder he
aimed it as best he could for a spot just in range with
the protruding rifle and fired.

The report of his own gun was followed by a puff
of smoke from the muzzle of the other rifle, and a
ball shrieked over the captain's shoulder.

The hand which had held the rifle in the window
seemed to have suddenly dropped from its hold,
for the end of the Winchester's barrel swung slightly
to and from, with a side motion, as though held in
place only by the sash and casing of the window.

Rodney, with a mixed pang of regret and throb
of pride, realized that his shot must have been fatal,
no doubt having struck the Rebel in the forehead. It
was this thought which filled him with regret, for
even in the heat of an engagement he could not rid
himself of the feeling that it was a terrible thing to
take a human life. But he met this accusing
thought with the recollection that he had fired the
shot to save the life of a brave man.

When, in the instant following the shots, he again
heard the voice of the captain, he expected that it
was addressed to him, perhaps in some recognition
of what he had just done.

But instead he heard a ringing command to
charge and clean out the saloon building.

I2C THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

It was with a sense of almost personal injury that
Rodney saw that the captain had either not seen
the danger from which the lucky shot had delivered
him or had deliberately dismissed the acknowledg-
ment of it to some more convenient time.

When the last refugee in the saloon had either
escaped or been shot down, the scouts pressed on
after the main body of the Rebels in the outskirts of
the village.

As they came in front of a large sightly frame
house, which occupied an elevation somewhat
higher than the neighboring residences, Captain
French quickly entered it.

Rodney paused by the door, and could hear the
quick footsteps of the officer running up the stairs.

After a moment of indecision, Rodney concluded
to wait outside.

Although the firing in that immediate locality
had nearly ceased, he did not forget that the exer-
cise of caution was still necessary; for there was no
telling what house or thicket might still be shelter
for a desperate and determined enemy.

Just as he came cautiously around the corner
of the house, he saw the gleam of a rifle aimed
through the crotch of a low orchard tree. Before
he could bring his own gun to his shoulder the smoke
curled from the muzzle of the Winchester, and its
report echoed against the side of the building.

It had not escaped Rodney's attention that the
man's aim had been high, no doubt at the chamber
window.

THE ROUT OF THE REBELS. 121

He was not conscious of the near presence of any
person other than the Rebel sharpshooter until start-
led by the crack of a rifle just behind him. In a
glance he saw the Rebel fall backward.

"Settled his hash, didn't I?" were the words
which greeted him from Lieutenant Johns, as he
turned about and saw the officer ejecting the ex-
ploded shell from his rifle.

"Yes; Captain French went upstairs a few mo-
ments ago; I'm afraid he's shot," was Rodney's
brief answer.

"Come; let's go up. But I hate to like sin.
Somehow it seems to me that fellow had a mighty
good aim, across that rest. Great heaven! if I could
only have been there about one minute before!"

Rodney's super-sensitiveness interpreted this as
a rebuke of his own indecision and it rankled keenly
as he followed the lieutenant up the stairway and
into the first chamber, the door of which stood
slightly ajar.

Even the lieutenant gave an involuntary moan
at the sight of the dead body of his captain, which
lay stretched upon the floor.

Rodney was strangely affected by the sight. It
seemed to him like the death of a personal friend.

They together took up the body and carried it
down the staircase and out of the door.

The main body of the scouts, among whom was
Gilroy, was just passing.

In a moment they surrounded their dead leader.

"Get a wagon and we will take him back to

122 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

camp," ordered Lieutenant Johns. "The regulars
have the Rebels on the run, out of town, anyway.'

When the wagon arrived they tenderly placed
the body in the center of it and then seated them-
selves around it.

The ride back to camp was a very solemn and
impressive one to Rodney. Few words were passed
over the body of their dead companion, Lieutenant
Johns giving a brief account of shooting the Rebel
and finding Captain French. In addition to the
ambulances bearing their own dead and wounded,
which they encountered on the way, there were
numerous Red River carts rude, lumbering two-
wheeled affairs, bound together with strips of shag-
anappy rawhide, without a nail in their entire con-
struction piled with the bodies of dead Half
Breeds. The feet of the latter protruded out of the
rear of the short carts as stiffly as though they were so
many pieces of cord-wood. To add to the grotesque-
ness of the spectacle the carts creaked a monotonous,
doleful wailing, which would have evoked a round
of laughter from the most serious observer under
any other circumstances.

As he watched the carts with their humble dead,
hauled along behind wasted shaganappies, he could
not but think that had his father not died he
might have been among one of those loads of Rebel
dead.

After the scouts had cared for the body of Capt-
ain French as best they could, Rodney and Gilroy
had found themselves once more together where

THE ROUT OF THE REBELS. 123

they could talk over the occurrences of the hours
since they had become separated.

Under spur of Gilroy's questions, Rodney gave
him a detailed account of the scenes of which he
had been the witness.

"Well; I shall have to depend almost wholly
upon the features of the engagement which you
have seen, for they are' by far the most important;
and what is more, you have remembered and told
just those things which are real live 'material' for a
newspaper man," said Gilroy, and finally added:

"Now suppose we follow up the troops for a way
and then go over through the Indian camp. There
may be some scenes worth describing over there."

Accordingly they followed the course of the
troops for a sufficient distance to see that the Rebels
had been thoroughly routed. Then they crossed the
river to the Indian camp.

"You might go up that side of the camp and
notice everything you can see, while I do the same
by this side, and we'll meet up at the other end and
come along back through the center together," said
Gilroy, as they halted their horses in front of the
broken array of tepees.

Rodney immediately acted upon this suggestion.
On every hand \vere the most pathetic reminders of
the devastation which the gatling gun and smaller
arms had wrought. Occasionally a squaw could be
seen moving stolidly about among the deserted
tepees, giving him vengeful side-long glances out of
twinkling black eyes.

124 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

But no incident of the moment occurred until he
heard the voice of a squaw, some distance ahead,
talking in excited but pleading tones.

He put spurs to old Pink-eye and pushed rapidly
forward until he reached the scene of the dis-
turbance.

The sight which met his eyes aroused his anger
as nothing in all his life had before done.

Beside a dead warrior knelt a soldier, who was
rapidly stripping from the brave's limbs the superbly
beaded leggins and moccasins, while the squaw was
pleading, in the most impassioned voice and gestures,
with the wretch to stop his heartless sacrilege.

Rodney knew that any kind of pleading, expostu-
lation or threats would be useless, and that a being
depraved enough to commit so cruel an outrage
against every human instinct would be desperate
enough to take the life of anyone who should excite
his anger by attempting to interfere with his work
of plunder or bring him to account for it. There-
fore Rodney instantly drew his revolver upon the
man and said:

"Hands up! Stir and I will drop you."

Although the words were spoken in a quiet way,
there was a force of determination in them which
could not fail to convince the soldier of the boy's
earnestness and courage; and he obeyed as promptly
as though he were being "held up" by a masked
highwayman.

Rodney then shouted to Gilroy, and in a few
moments the latter rode up with the question:

*s>m* *

THE ROUT OF THE REBELS. 125

"What's up now?" plainly speaking in his aston-
ished countenance.

"This fellow was stripping the finery from the
body of that warrior in the very eyes of the squaw
and in spite of her pleadings."

"The brute! We'll let the old general deal with
him!" exclaimed Gilroy, his lips white with honest
indignation.

" Now get up and march," he ordered, address-
ing the culprit, who yielded a surly obedience to the
command.

They went at once before the general, a short,
stout man, with heavy, white military moustache and
dignified bearing, who ordered Rodney to tell his
story.

The boy related the incident in a brief, modest
and matter-of-fact way, and concluded by saying:

" I think he has one of the moccasins in his
pocket now."

" Search him," commanded the general.

He was obeyed by the two guards, into whose
custody the soldier had been given.

Not only did they take from his pockets the
beaded moccasin, but also a quantity of silver
trinkets of the sort most worn by the Indians and
Half Breeds.

" Keep him under close guard. We'll give him
his courtmartial trial in the morning."

As they were now in command of telegraphic
connections at Batosch, Rodney had no long courier's
journey to make, and therefore had more of an op-

126 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

portunity to observe Gilroy's preparation of the
dispatches. He was pleased to see that the specials
contained every detail which he had furnished to
Gilroy, and in nearly the same sequence and words
in which he had told them.

It was nearly morning when the last of the long
dispatches were off, and the correspondent and his
assistant had contrived to catch only a couple of
hours' sleep, when they were aroused by a mes-
senger from the general, summoning them to the
court-martial trial of the plundering soldier.

When they had concluded their testimony, the
man received the severest discipline with which his
offense was punishable, and the general issued the
order that any similar depredations would promptly
meet the same discipline.

" Who were you talking with when I was giving
my testimony?" inquired Rodney of Gilroy, as they
walked back to their tent together.

" Houri, the government interpreter. I believe
that fellow knows exactly where Riel is hiding, I
wish you could keep around near him, and perhaps
you may be able to pick up a clue from some
remark that he may drop."

Charged with this delicate and important mis-
sion Rodney set out for the tent to which Gilroy
directed him, determined to accomplish it if possible.

CHAPTER XIII.

IN AT THE CAPTURE.

you make out anything?" inquired Gilroy
of Rodney, as the latter returned to their
tent with rather a disappointed countenance.

"Not a thing! couldn't catch a single word. But I
did manage to strike up an acquaintance with young
Houri, the interpreter's son."

"That's right! You'll get more from that lead
than from a week's listening. Just you cultivate him
a little and I believe he will give the thing away-
if he has anything to give," exclaimed Gilroy, with
hopeful animation.

"Very well. I'll do the best I can," replied Rod-
ney.

As a result of this resolution the young Half
Breed and Rodney were together much of the time
during the next two days, which were spent on the
march. They were very congenial to each other and
Rodney listened with delight to the young Houri's
accounts of the adventures of himself and his father.

On the other hand the Half Breed drew from Rod-
ney the story of his life and seemed to admire the
boy's modest and manly "grit" in his fight to secure
the clean title to a home for his mother, and to lift
from her the burden of poverty.

"Come around after supper," he called to Rodney,

127

128 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

as the moving columns broke up for camp on the
evening of the second day out from Batosch.

Rodney was careful to keep this invitation and
found his friend in an unusual mood, alternating be-
tween dreamful abstraction and restless excitement.
He was not inclined to say much for some
time, but finally said: "Let's take a stroll." This
remark was made with the air of one who had at last
reached the final decision of some vexatious ques-
tion.

When they were well out of hearing from all
others, Houri stopped abruptly, looked sharply into
Rodney's face and then asked:

"Merton, can you keep a secret from ererybody,
even from Gilroy?"

This was a turn in affairs for which Rodney was
not prepared. Any pledge of secrecy that he might
give must be kept to the letter and spirit. At the
same time Gilroy would expect that any informa-
tion which Rodney might gain would be his prop-
erty. Would it not be better to refuse the informa-
tion upon the condition named and trust to picking
it up in some other way? Then came the thought:

"If he is going to tell me where Riel is hiding it
is for the purpose of having me accompany him in
attempting the capture. Why not accept the con-
dition of secrecy and go with him, and if the attempt
is successful the information can afterward be given
to Gilroy.

"Certainly, I will tell no one," he replied.

"Very well! I have learned the exact cabin

IN AT THE CAPTURE. I2Q

where Louis Riel is hiding. Not even my father
knows that although he has a general idea of the
neighborhood in which Louis is now located. You
know the government offers a good round sum for
his capture.

"I know him well much better than I do you
and I believe that we can take him. He was let off
easy by the government after his other trouble, and
it is natural that he should have confidence that he
might obtain mercy again, especially when his exe-
cution would stir up all the bad blood in the north-
west, just when the government has about got the
thing squelched. If you want to try the plan we
will do so and divide the reward for his capture
evenly between us. If you don't care to do this I'll
try it alone."

"Yes; I'll go, of course and thank you for shar-
ing the chance, which you might have kept to your-
self, with me," eagerly replied Rodney.

"Oh that's nothing. I like your grit; and besides,
I'd rather have you with me than to try it alone. If
he should make a fight it might come handy to have
a friend along, you know! Now we'll fall in at the
rear to-morrow morning, and when we get to the
right cross trail we'll branch off and go it alone."

In reply to Gilroy's inquiries, after returning to
the tent, Rodney said:

"I haven't been able to get even a general idea
of Riel's hiding place yet; but I suppose that I can't
do better than to keep close to young Houri."

"No; that's right. Stick as tight to him as you

130 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

can without exciting his suspicion," replied Gilroy.
"But I believe I've struck a lead, for I overheard
Houri's father telling Major Bolton that he knew the
general locality in which Kiel is skulking, so I'm
going to follow them. Between us both we ought
to be in at the final wound-up. If it should fall to
your luck don't miss a word, look or gesture, for I
want to give a minute description of everything
attending the capture."

Thoughts of the possibilities of the morrow did
not allow Rodney to sleep but little that night. If
they might only succeed in capturing the famous
Rebel and secure the reward! He thought of all the
comforts that it would secure to his mother and
himself, and even began to plan just how he would
spend it. But the honor which would attend such a
feat could scarcely be less a consideration in the
thought of a courageous, imaginative and adventure-
loving frontier lad than the liberal financial reward.

He contrived to secure an extra feed for Pink-
eye that morning and also gave his rifle and revolv-
ers a cleaning of unusual thoroughness.

When the march began he found Houri, faithful
to his word, at the foot of the column.

All the forenoon they rode side by side with the
exchange of scarcely a word.

But when the halt was made for dinner, Houri
pointed to a trail which crossed the one which the
troops were following.

"That's it," he whispered, "but we must not strike
out until the others take up the march, for it would

IN AT THE CAPTURE. 13!

be too noticeable and we might have the whole
bunch of them at our heels."

Rodney endeavored to conceal his excitement,
during the noon meal, as much as possible; but was
oppressed with the fear that he had succeeded but
poorly.

At last the troops fell into line again and the
young Half Breed and Rodney lagged behind for a
little and then dashed rapidly over the prairie
toward a cabin some two miles distant.

"He's in that shack; and if he's going to make
any resistance he'll likely have the drop on one or
the other of us. We might just as well make up our
minds to that. The only thing we can do is to get
a good ready, keep our eyes peeled and shoot quick,
if it comes to that. There's no use trying to make
a sneak on him."

Rodney had never felt his heart beat with such
terrific blows as when they approached within a
hundred yards of the cabin.

At first they could see no one within the cabin,
but in a moment a dark and rather handsome man
appeared.

"Hello, Louis!" gaily called Houri, divining, at a
glance, that resistance was evidently not Riel's
programme. "You're just the man I'm looking
for. Better throw up the game and come along
with us."

"Will you guarantee me a safe passage?" was
the terse reply.

"Yes, we will deliver you to the authorities safe

132 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOU1.

and sound. You needn't worry about that. There
will be no trouble, anyway. It will all be quiet."

A pity of the defeated and captured man crept
into Rodney's heart as they rode to join the troops,
and he could not bring himself to regard the quiet
and dignified man as "an ambitious pretender and
demagogue who had determined to win by the rifle
and at the cost of the lives of those whom he could
dupe, the power which he had failed to achieve in
the halls of parliament."

Rodney could not reconcile this newspaper descrip-
tion of the Rebel leader with the actual man at his
side; and at this feeling that the Half Breed chief
was not so black as he had been painted intensified.
Rodney's conscience began to accuse him for his
part in the capture of the man. But he dismissed
this disagreeable thought for the time, with the
reflection that even though Riel should pay the
death penalty for his act, his capture would proba-
bly put an end to the strife and be the means of
stopping the waste of life which had been so revolt-
ing to him and to which he could not become hard-
ened or indifferent.

As they approached the troops Houri requested
Rodney to ride on in advance and report their capt-
ure to the general. Many curious eyes were turned
upon him as he came forward and held a momentary
conversation with the commander, who ordered an
instant halt and took measures to receive the pr.s-
oner in a fitting manner.

It was with embarrassment amounting to almost

IN AT THE CAPTURE. 133

shame that Rodney received the hearty congratula-
tions of Gilroy, Lieutenant Johns and all of the other
officers and men who knew him. He tried to explain
that he had done nothing at all; that Kiel had sim-
ply surrendered and accompanied them back to
camp.

" But it took grit to ride up to that cabin know-
ing that Louis Riel \vould have nine chances out of
ten in getting the drop on you. If you didn't have
to fight for your life it wasn't the fault of the chances
you took, " replied the lieutenant.

" Well, " was Rodney's unspoken comment, " I'll
have my share of the reward, anyway. And what a
world of comforts that w r ill buy for mother! '

That evening he wrote the good news to his
mother, and also, \vith young Houri, made claim
to the reward. As he finished his letter, it suddenly
occurred to him that the capture of Riel practically
ended the war. " What are we going to do now? '
he asked Gilroy, with an abruptness which startled
the correspondent out of a \vell-developed nap.

" Going? " repeated Gilroy, rubbing his eyes in
confusion, " Oh yes! We 're going on the trail of
Big Bear. And a rocky road it'll be, too! But it'll
be something ne\v a little different from \vhat
we've been having. Going through the thick timber,
I imagine, will be the worst of it. '

Rodney added this information to his letter and
then sought his blanket, with that " good wholesome
tired " which insured him sound and refreshing rest.

CHAPTER XIV.

ON THE TRAIL OF BIG BEAR.

IT was with a sense of deep relief that Rodney
began the march from Garripy Crossing to Prince
Albert.

"Somehow I feel as though I'd been just let out of
school as though we were through with the hard
part of the business and the remainder of it would
be more like traveling for the fun of it," Rodney
confided to Gilroy.

"Well, I do think we've seen the hardest part of
the fighting but you must remember what I told
Captain French that night before the taking of Ba-
tosch," replied Gilroy. He did not need to say any-
thing more in order to emphasize the uncertainty of
human calculations.

It was too grim a subject to be pursued further,
and Rodney lapsed into gloomy silence which grad-
ually changed into a dreamful enjoyment of the soft
springtime world about him. The delicate silver
birches with their white bodies wrapped in the flow-
ing robes of their slender pendant whips of softest
green stirred the poetry within the boy and brought
back again to him the tender and worshipful feeling
which he had so often experienced when alone in the
woods, hunting or visiting his traps. This led to

134

ON THE TRAIL OF BIG BEAR. 135

thoughts of his mother and a sudden and almost
overwhelming desire to see her. So strongly did this
wish master him that he would have welcomed an
opportunity to turn back toward the little cabin on
the Qu'Appelle.

Then he began to formulate plans as to what he
should do upon his return.

"Yes, sir! I'll stick to my original plan and take
mother for a visit to her folks in Illinois. Then I'll
get a foothold with some newspaper in Chicago if I
can. But if I should fail in that I'll be contented
for a time on some smaller paper perhaps the one
in town where they live. If mother gets homesick
and wants to come back to the fort, of course I'll
come to, but I shall try to get her to stay a
year anyway," Rodney meditated.

He ventured to inquire of Gilroy about the Chi-
cago newspapers.

"Equal to the Toronto and Montreal papers?
Well I should say so and way ahead of them, too!
They've more nerve and push in a minute than the
Canadian papers have in all day! If there's any
country or part of a country in which the public is
especially interested, the Chicago papers are right
on hand to send out exploring expeditions, even
at the cost of thousands of dollars. They have
more dash and enterprise than the Canadian jour-
nals, which are patterned considerably after their
staid conservative English cousins."

"How would anyone manage who wanted to get
a start on one of those papers do anyone of

136 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

my age, I mean?" bashfully stammered Rodney AS
they rode along side by. side.

"They'd probably try and fail!" was Gilroy's
discouraging rejoinder.

After a few moments' reflection, he added:

"There are several ways in which young fellows
get a start."

"But I suppose they all have to begin at the
bottom?" interrupted Rodney.

"No; that's just where you and lots of others are
mistaken. It's getting so now that one is almost as
likely to begin in the middle, or even higher up. I
suppose if one began strictly at the bottom, he
would first be set to holding copy; that is, reading the
manuscript in comparison with the proof. The next
step would be the more unpleasant kinds of reporting.
After that would follow the more desirable kinds of
reporting, special writing, editorial work and edi-
torial writing. If you started in holding copy, you
would probably get all of six dollars a week and
pay out five of it for board, unless you got a cheap
room and lived out. If you had a genius for econ-
omy, you might manage to cut that down a little;
but it would be a tight squeeze at best," again ex-
plained Gilroy.

"But how could anyone begin in the middle, as
you say?"

"Oh, in a dozen ways. Simply by being able to
show himself capable of doing some special
branch of work. This is usually begun by submitting
special articles at space rate. For instance, you

ON THE TRAIL OF BIG BEAR. 137

choose your own subject something on which you
happen to be well posted and which is of general and
timely interest and write it up. If the editor
accepts it, you will probably try another; and so
on. If you can make a go of it, and have your 'stuff,'
as they say, taken right along, then you may be
hired on a salary, or a guaranty that a certain
amount of your work will be used. Then you would
be a special writer, which is about the next thing
to being an editorial writer."

Although this information did not by any means
satisfy Rodney and a score of other questions came
up in his mind he feared that he might weary Gilroy
and deferred them until another time. But the
somewhat discouraging outlook which Gilroy had
held up did not discourage him. It only aroused
his determination the more.

After the journey from Garrepy Crossing to
Prince Albert had been accomplished and they had
reached the vicinity of Duck Lake where the Rebels
had perpetrated their first massacre, the infantry
troops took a steamer to Battleford, while the
cavalry held across the "big bend" to the same des-
tination. From this point they again took up their
across-country march.

So uneventful was the journey that Gilroy began
to chafe under its quite monotony.

"I declare this is stupid!" Gilroy reitterated as
they marched on hour after hour with not even the
promise of the smallest excitement or diversion.

Rodney, however, quite enjoyed the change from
10

138 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

the feverish excitement which he had been under
ever since that first brush with the Half Breed
scouts in the vicinity of Clark's Crossing. It gave
him time "to do a little thinking," as he expressed
it.

As they pitched camp one day in the vicinity of
Ft. Pitt, where another massacre had occurred, Lieu-
tenant Johns approached their tent with the excla-
mation:

'Heard the news, Gilroy?"

"No; What is it? Almost any excitement would
be an improvement upon this dead calm."

"They say that Steele's scouts have encountered
Big Bear and had a lively brush with his braves.
The old chief has put out in the direction of the North
pole and we are to follow post haste.

"Good! Good!" exclaimed Gilroy. "Anything to
break up the monotony! And so we're to give the
old rascal a lively chase, are we?"

"Well, I don't know how lively it will be, for it's
going to be mighty hard work to push through the
dense timber to which the Indians have taken. Of
course they'll keep through the thickest of it, know-
ing that it will almost be impossible for troops to
follow with any chance of overtaking them. But
that's a great country up there, and worth one's
while to see it," returned the lieutenant.

"Yes; and I'm not so sure about there being no
chance of overtaking the redskins. If they are
loaded down with their winter's catch of skins, they
will not make such rapid progress themselves and

ON THE TRAIL OF BIG BEAR. 139

they will stop sooner than you think. I wouldn't
be surprised if they went no further than those
lakes up there."

"We're going to push right through, as far as
there's any earthly use, for the government is bound
to punish the Indians severely who have dipped into
this muss," responded the lieutenant, as he took
his leave.

"Of course," soliloquized Gilroy. "The Indians
may cache their skins if they think they are getting
hard pressed. But they'll hang onto 'em as long as
they can. Tell you what, lad, wouldn't it be great
luck to run onto that caclie of skins? It would be
the next best thing to your luck in helping to capt-
ure Riel. You're such a lucky dog that it would be
just like you to fall right into that cache bodily.
But if you should, I want to be in it with you," and
Gilroy laughed generously at this seemingly envious
speech.

Although Rodney had anticipated that the jour-
ney would be a difficult one, the actual progress
which they made seemed unaccountably slow.

Much of the way they were obliged to wait for
the axeman to cut down trees and remove logs from
out the way.

It was in following this narrow trail that Rodney
first discovered the antipathy in which the regular
troops seemed to hold the scouts.

While going through the thickest portion of the
timber the scouts were ordered to push on ahead of
the regulars.

I4O THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

Whenever Rodney attempted to pass a regular,
the latter would not yield Pink-eye a foot but would
crowd the latter close against the trees.

The piebald animal endured this treatment to
which the horses of all the scouts were subjected-
for a time in patience; but finally one trooper rather
overdid the crowding and jammed Pink-eye against
a rough tree-trunk in a way that aroused the ire of
the pugnacious shaganappy.

The boisterous laugh of the trooper was sud-
denly nipped in the bud by the ferocious squeal of
old Pink-eye, as he laid back his ragged ears and
planting his teeth into the thigh of the offending
horseman.

The latter plied a terrific blow upon the Roman
nose of Rodney's pony but it did not save him
from receiving scars which he would carry to his
grave.

With an oath the trooper pulled out his revolver
and would have shot down the horse had not Rod-
ney grabbed the weapon and at the same time drawn
his own.

" It was your own fault that my horse bit you,
now take your punishment like a man, ' Rodney
exclaimed, expecting that the man would break out
into a fit of passion. But he seemed to regard Rod-
ney's revolver with a wholesome awe.

Rodney appreciated that he was in a difficult
position. He could not remain behind or ride
beside the trooper, and if he passed on ahead it
would give the fellow an opportunity to vent his

t/5
~W

ON THE TRAIL OF BIG BEAR. 141

wrath in any way that he might choose. He deter-
mined to put a bold face on the matter and go ahead
as though nothing had happened. Therefore he
said nothing and pushed on.

Again the fellow crowded the shoulder of his
horse against the flank of Pink-eye.

If Rodney had not been thoroughly alert, the
consequences of this repetition of the troopers offense
might have resulted as seriously for him as for the
cavalry man, for Pink-eye took a quick step in
advance and then dealt the trooper's horse a kick in
the side which not only made havoc with the animal's
ribs, but inflicted with the sharp "corks" of one
shoe a savage gash into the flesh of the fellow's calf.

Rodney heard the cry of pain which the man
uttered, but did not pause to investigate matters be-
yond a hasty glance, which showed him that the
fellow still retained his seat in the saddle.

When he joined Gilroy in the advance and
related the episode, the latter said:

"Served the wretch right; but you'd better keep
a sharp eye on the fellow after this, for ten to one
he'll try to have his revenge on you for the results
of his own meanness."

"But I did nothing to him myself," answered
Rodney.

"Of course! But don't you know that we hate
those whom we have wronged worse than those who
have wronged us? It's always that way. You'd
better look out for him. I'll warrant he'll try to do
up your horse."

142 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"That would be meaner than trying to have his
revenge oh me directly," was Rodney's quiet reply,
as he sought to stifle the anger that burned in him at
the thought.

Although Rodney kept a careful watch upon the
trooper and Old Pink-eye, he could find nothing to
confirm Gilroy's unpleasant suspicions, until his
fears gradually abated.

One evening camp was pitched on the spot where
Old Bear and his followers had previously camped.

The recollection of the conversation about the
rumored cache came to Rodney, and as there was a
bright moon he determined to amuse himself by
looking about for it.

CHAPTER XV.

THE CACHE.

AFTER wandering about for some time, peering
into every covert which seemed to suggest the
possibility of affording concealment for the cache
and poking under logs and brush-heaps, Rodney sat
down, muttering:

'What's the use? I couldn't find it in broad
daylight, and there's not the slightest use in attempt-
ing to now. I'd better go back to the tent." But
as he sat there in the deep quiet of the great woods,
with the soft moonlight filtering down through the
tasseled branches of the pines, his thoughts drifted
from the object which had brought him there into
vague dreams of home, old playmates, the won-
derful future and the wild majestic beauty of the
northern forest. He wonderered, too, what had
happened to the little Half Breed girl whom he had
found on the shelf of rock near Fish Creek, and he
tried, by shutting his eyes tightly, to recall the exact
image of her face, which he remembered as very
bright and pleasing, if not beautiful. How strange
it would be if they should some time meet again
in after life, and he should find her grown to
a beautiful young woman and !

His romance was suddenly interrupted by the
sound of a light tread.

143

144 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

Instantly he was alert and listening intently, his
fingers tightened about his rifle which had been
resting loosely across his knees. The sound being
in the direction opposite from the camp he naturally
concluded that it was not caused by any. of the
soldiers or their stock, but by some wild animal. As
the animal was to the windward from him he con-
cluded that he was safe from detection, and that he
might be able to obtain a shot at the unknown deni-
zen of the woods if he did not alarm it by some noise.
The tread seemed to continue for several yards and
then pause. He listened more carefully than before,
expecting that the animal had stopped to listen for
signs of alarm and would resume its journey after a
brief pause. But instead of again hearing its tread
Rodney caught; the sound of cautious scratching, as
though the animal had discovered a hidden victim,
which it could not reach without digging through
leaves, brush and earth.

With slow and stealthy footsteps Rodney ap-
proached towards the author of the noise. He scarcely
expected to get a fair view of the animal, although the
timber was not as thick as he had anticipated. Step
by step he picked his way along as "gingerly" as
though returning from a truant's frolic and endeav-
oring to reach the safety of his bed without awaken-
ing the household.

Quite unexpectedly he soon found himself at the
edge of a small clearing in the center of which stood
the ruins of a deserted log cabin, probably erected
years before by some trapper, or possibly by a band

THE CACHE. 145

of prospectors or surveyors. The roof was fallen in
and the moonlight flooded the interior of its log
walls almost as brightly as their exterior.

"That scratching comes from inside there's no
doubt about that! But the next thing is to steal a
march on the animal without frightening it away,"
reflected Rodney, who would also have experienced a
certain relief in knowing "the nature of the brute,"
which he was after before encountering it. Neverthe-
less he did not hesitate, but crept softly along, behind
the low bushes which sprinkled the clearing toward a
spot from which he could, through the doorway of
the cabin, command a full view of the interior.

At first he could see only the "hind quarters" of
the animal, which appeared to be about the size of a
large dog, only not so tall.

"I wonder what the brute's after," thought Rodney
as he shifted his position so as to obtain, if possible, a
view of the animal's head. "Probably he's found
the remains of an old barrel of salt pork or has
had a streak of luck and captured a larger victim
than he could eat at once and has buried it there for
safe keeping. But it's a queer place for an animal
to cache anything."

These thoughts flashed through his mind as he
raised his rifle, rested it over a stump, took deliber-
ate aim and fired. Seeing that his shot had been
instantly fatal, he ran quickly toward the cabin,
but his mind was full of a new thought.

"Yes; it is a strange place for wild animals to
cache anything but quite a natural place for a

146 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

human being to select as a concealment for
valuables."

Although he had never seen a live wolverine
before, he had seen their pelts at the post, and
knew that the dead animal was of this variety.

He did not pause, however, to make any
extended examination of his prize. Pulling it
hastily to one side he began an eager search of the
stop where the animal had been digging.

It was in a corner of the cabin where the frame of
a rude bunk still stood, filled with the debris of pine
boughs, which, when fresh, had formed a soft and
fragrant bed for the inhabitant of the cabin.

Rodney fell rapidly to work cleaning out this
bunk, keeping a careful lookout for the first shining
speck of fur that should confirm his suspicion that
the cache was beneath. But no glimpse of this
kind rewarded his efforts.

"I guess I'll poke around in there with a stick
a little and then go home," thought Rodney, as he
took up a pole and thrust it at random into the
bunk.

"I declare it feels as though the bottom was laid
with logs like a corduroy road !" he mentally ex-
claimed, as his stick reached the bottom.

He poked again and once more the point of his
stick seemed to glance from a rounding surface and
wedge itself between two pieces of timber. His
curiosity was now thoroughly aroused and he began
to throw out the debris with a will

As he expected, he found a corduroy bottom to

THE GREAT FIND.

THE CACHE. 147

the bunk, and his heart beat quick with excitement
as he pried the end of one of the small logs loose
and lifted it up.

He could scarcely believe his eyes at the result;
but a thrust of his stick against the substance beneath
could leave no room for further doubt. He certain-
ly had discovered the caclie of Big Bear's winter
catch of skins !

The other coverings were quickly lifted and
revealed to Rodney a surface of otter, beaver, lynx,
bear and fox skins.

As he continued to throw bundle after bundle of
the rich pelts out of the secret vault in which Big
Bear's squaws had buried them, he made a running
count of their value, as he had often done in hand-
ling the skins for Leveque, at the Hudson Bay Post,
at home.

But at last his arms began to tire, and he paused
for rest.

"Well, I've taken out at least five hundred dol-
lars' worth, and no signs of striking bottom yet!" was
his mental comment.

It then occurred to him that he had been absent
some time from camp, and that he must return or
become an object of anxiety to Gilroy.

He had no difficulty in tracing his way back to
camp, for the moon was still shining clearly, and he
had been careful, in coming, to select certain promi-
nent landmarks to serve him as sure guides in his
return.

"Great Scotland! Lad, where have you been?"

148 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

was Gilroy's almost impatient greeting, as Rodney
entered their tent.

"Oh, I've been hunting a little on my own hook."

"But I don't see any great amount of game,"
interrupted Gilroy.

"No but I shot a wolverine, just the same! And
that was not all that I bagged, either," was Rodney's
mysterious reply.

Then he related his adventure and the discovery
to which it had led.

"But what am I to do about it?" he inquired, after
he had finished the narrative.

Gilroy remained silent for some time and then
replied:

"That is something which you must decide for
yourself. The skins belong to the Indians, but you
may be sure that they will never have an opportu-
nity to return and resurrect them. If the pelts were
to remain, they would probably be destroyed by
wolverines and other similar animals, as you have
had proof to-night. If you were a regular soldier
or scout, it would be your duty in the theory at least
-to report the find to your commander, and let him
take possession of them as goods of the enemy.
But you are not bound by this rule, for you are not
even a regular scout, but simply a private person
traveling with the army in a private capacity. I don't
see why the skins don't belong to you more than
to anyone else."

"But on that principle they belong to you, for I
am working for you in even a stricter sense than any

THE CACHE. 149

soldier is working for his commander," replied
Rodney.

"No, that principle don't hold in private business.
It's your good luck, and I don't see any reason why
you should not replace the skins as you found them,
go on as though nothing had happened, and when
the rebellion is over come back and get them. At
any rate, I'd sleep over the business and decide it in
the morning."

Rodney decided to act upon this last bit of ad-
vice, and stretched out upon his blanket.

But instead of "sleeping over it" he lay awake,
hour after hour, debating the problem pro and con.
One moment it seemed that this fortune was his by
right of discovery. Then would come up the fact
that they were not his that he would be getting
"something for nothing;" taking that for which he
had rendered no equivalent. It was not, however,
until he began to plan how he should dispose of the
skins, provided he should follow Gilroy's suggestion,
that the matter seemed to put itself in a decisive
light.

"Suppose," he asked himself, "the trader to
whom I might take the furs should ask me how I
came by them. I could not tell him that I had
either caught them or bought them."

This questionable view of the matter presented
itself to Rodney each time he counted up the fort-
une which was within his easy grasp.

When he arose in the morning Gilroy greeted

him with the question:
11

I5O THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"Well, have you settled it?"

"Yes," was the prompt reply. "I thought that
if I took the furs to a trader and he should ask me
whether I had caught or bought them I could make
no reasonable and honest answer. He would natur-
ally think that I had got them by questionable
means and I think he would be about right, too.
So I'm going to report it to the general and let him
take possession of them."

"Yes and distribute them among his relatives
and pets," was Gilroy's ungracious rejoinder.

"That will be for him to settle. It -seems the
nearest right of anything that I should put it into
his hands, so that's what I'm going to do this morn-
ing," was the boy's determined reply. He put this
resolution into action as soon as breakfast was
over.

After some delay he was admitted into the pres-
ence of the general, who received him in a brisk,
short way, which would have quite disheartened the
sensitive boy had he come to ask a favor instead of
to do a duty.

After he had delivered his information the com-
mander's manner mellowed perceptibly and he com-
plimented Rodney upon the high sense of honor
and integrity which he had shown. Then he called
certain of his staff and requested Rodney to direct
them to the cabin.

They found the pelts unmolested, and when they
were all out Rodney estimated them to value at
least one thousand dollars. But as he saw them

THE CACHE. 15!

carried safely away to the general's tent he had no
regrets for the decision he had made.

When he returned to Gilroy again the latter said:

"Rodney you won't mind my telling you that I
have a very deep admiration for your action regard-
ing the cache. It was something that not one man
in a thousand would have done."

"It seemed the right thing to do, that was all,"
was Rodney's simple reply, as he went about his
duties and tried to dismiss the subject from his mind.

"Well, I shall see to it that that lad has a chance
to bring out all that there is in him and I believe
that he will make a first-class newspaper man!" re-
flected Gilroy.

An hour later the march was resumed, and as
they made their slow progress through the woods
Rodney fell to wondering what adventure would next
claim their attention.

"I declare it seems to me that I have lived years
instead of about two months since we marched out
of Ft. Qu'Appelle, that day," he remarked to Gilroy,
who rode next him.

"You have, to all practical purposes, for it is ex-
perience, not years, that ages us."

"Do you really think that I have changed much
since you first saw me?" eagerly inquired Rodney.

"Yes; very much even in appearance. You
were just a boy then and a very shy and bashful one
at that. Now you have the development resulting
from an amount of hard worldly experience which
few young men ten years your senior can boast of

152 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

and it will all count for its full value in helping you
along in the world, too. There's no profession in
which an experience of this sort counts for so much
as in the newspaper business," replied Gilroy.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE NIGHT ALARM.

r I "HE progress of the troops grew rapidly more
J_ difficult and the services of the "cutters" were
in constant demand.

"If we crawl along at this pace Big Bear will
have about a thousand miles the start of us," was
Lieutenant Johns' discouraged comment as he rode
past Gilroy and Rodney.

"It does begin to look considerable like a wild
goose chase, I must admit," replied Gilroy, whom
any delay rendered decidedly restless.

But Rodney was enjoying it keenly. The fresh
"springy" smell of the dense verdure charmed and
soothed him after the wearing excitement of the
scenes through which he had passed.

"I'd just like to leave off this hunting human
game and take to fishing and hunting wild animals
for a while. Wouldn't this be a glorious place to
trap and hunt in, when the season is on, though!"
exclaimed Rodney, his eyes blazing with enthusiasm.

"Yes; it would certainly be first rate. But when
it comes to hunting, if I'm going in for it at all I
want to go in all over, and not stop short of the
Musk-ox region about Hudson Bay. There's the
place to hunt if the few travelers who have ex-
plored that region can be at all believed, and I

153

154 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT,

honkone who has been there who can be re-
lied on. If I live long enough and don't get settled
down to a desk before having my fill of roving, I'm
going to spend a season knocking around up there."

" I suppose it's an awful hard life, at best, that one
would lead there; but I can think of nothing more
interesting. No books of adventure ever interested
me half as much as those about the Arctic regions,
and I think it is the same with other boys," said
Rodney.

"Yes; I guess the preference is almost universal
among boys. It was that way with me at least," re-
plied Gilroy meditatively.

" What do you think is the reason for it?" resumed
Rodney.

" Well, I don't know unless it is because the most
commonplace and insignificant details of existence
are attended, by reason of the extreme cold, with
great danger. Or, in other words, the natural and
inevitable perils in such a climate are so thick that
the narrator does not have to strain after perilous
situations, and consequently his story is more vivid
and realistic."

"That's a fact, but I never thought it out before.
The adventures laid in the temperate and torrid
zones always did seem more strained and far-fetched
to me than narratives of Arctic exploration and
adventure. But hunting even the musk-ox wouldn't
quite satisfy me. It would take a real live polar
bear to do that," replied Rodney.

"Well," laughed Gilroy, "when we make our

THE NIGHT ALARM. 155

Artie exploration I'll see that a polar bear is pro-
vided for your express benefit, without regard to
expense."

"All right, I'll not forget to remind you of it,"
promptly answered Rodney, joining in the laugh at
the absurdity of the entire supposition.

The drift of the conversation was suddenly
changed by the halting of the advanced horsemen,
and Rodney's exclamation: "Look at that boy!
What can we be coming to?"

"Muskegs rat houses! And a sweet time we'll
have getting across them, too!" explained Gilroy.

Subsequent events fully justified this view of the
situation, for not only did every man have to dis-
mount, but those having any considerable luggage
were obliged to cut long poles and construct "trav-
oils," upon which the baggage was dragged across
the wide and treacherous swail, which was spotted
with the "muskegs."

It was a tedious proceeding and one that all were
delighted to have safely over.

When it was accomplished they found themselves
on what was, save for the narrow strip or isthmus
over which they had crossed, an island.

"Here we are at Loon Lake at last, and not a
sight of an Indian for our pains," grumbled the lieu-
tenant, "and what's more we're not likely to get
one, either for unless I miss my guess, the sly
dogs' have been cunning enough to lead us on this
island, just to cover up their tracks and give us the
slip."

156 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

The island was a wild and beautiful place and
Rodney was eager to explore it.

"Who knows what I may scare up?" he said to
himself, as he took his rifle and set out alone.

At first he skirted along the shore admiring the
beauty of the lake and watching for loons upon
which to test his marksmanship. But not one was
in sight, and although it was the proper hour for
their "far-sounding" cries, he could hear only the
gentle lapping of the water on its beach.

Tiring of this, he turned his face toward the
timbered interior of the island and began to search
for signs of an opening or trail. To his great sur-
prise he found what seemed to be the faint trace of
an old trail.

"I'd like to run across Big Bear's camp and pick
up something that has been left behind, just to
remember this trip by," he reflected, as he made a
more careful examination of the trail and satisfied
himself that the indications were certainly promis-
ing.

Sometimes the trail was quite apparent and at
other times it was with the greatest difficulty that
he could follow it. But patience and close attention
enabled him to keep its general course; and when
he entered the woods, and followed it for some fifty
rods, he was surprised to find himself stumbling
upon the ashes of Big Bear's extinct camp fires-.
He at once began to search about for some keep-
sake by which to remember their chase after the
famous chief.

THE NIGHT ALARM. 157

"Here I have it!" exclaimed Rodney, as he
picked up the stone bowl of a discarded or forgotten
pipe and put it into his pocket.

"I'd like to know in what direction they set out
from here," he reflected, and began to search about for
the continuance of the trail, which crossed an "open"
and then disappeared into thick timber beyond.

He had but just reached the latter when the trail
became so obscure that he was compelled to stoop
close to the ground and exercise all the woods-craft
of which he was capable in order to keep the
run of it.

After progressing for some time in this slow and
difficult position he paused and straightened up to
relieve his aching back.

A cry of horror broke from his lips as he did so
and he started back in terror; but after retreating a
rod or two he regained control of his faculties and
checked the impulse of fear to which he had tempo-
rarily yielded.

Not a yard in front of the spot where he had
stopped was the most hideous and revolting sight
that he had ever looked upon. It was the lifeless
body of a grizzled old squaw, depending by a lariat
from the branch of a tree. This scene needed no
explanation. Rodney understood it instantly. The
other Indians, being hard pressed, had left this
decrepit old woman, who could not keep up the
speed at which they wished to travel, on the island
to starve. She had preferred the quicker death by
hanging and had been her own executioner.

158 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

So strong a hold did this pitiful tragedy take
upon Rodney that he involuntarily sank down upon
a log to think about it.

Here was a feature of the war that he had not
taken into consideration. At first the cruelty of the
Indians to the old woman seemed awful and filled
him with an indignation that would have welcomed
an opportunity to avenge itself upon Big Bear and
his warriors; but as he thought the matter over
more calmly it came to seem that the responsibility
for this cruelty lay as much with those who had
crowded the Indians into a position where such a
proceeding was but the natural outcome of their
savage instincts and training, as with the Indians
themselves. But the most vivid impression which it
made upon the sensitive mind of the boy was to
intensify the feeling to which every engagement
that he had witnessed had contributed: that war
was so terrible a thing, and caused the innocent, as
well as the guilty, so much suffering that it was
always wrong and unjustifiable.

The cry of a great black woodpecker startled
Rodney from his reverie and he hastened back to
camp to relate his discovery to Gilroy.

"Yes; you're right; it will work up into a good
incident for the papers. It's just the kind of thing
they want something to harrow up the feelings of
their readers, that's all that's necessary. Oh, you're
getting your newspaper eyes open in good shape,
boy!" exclaimed Gilroy, with patronizing enthusi-
asm as he listened to Rodney's graphic description

CAMP SCENE ON THE TRAIL OF BIG BEAR.

THE NIGHT ALARM. 159

of the appearance of the suicide and his feelings as
he had stumbled upon it.

The story was overheard by a scout, and as
Rodney went to lead Gilroy to the spot nearly the
entire company followed him.

"We'll let it hang just as it is, so that if Big Bear
should happen back this way he may see the result
of his devilish cruelty," remarked the commander as
they turned away from the fearful spectacle and
strolled back to camp.

"Look here, boys!" exclaimed one of the scouts
who had been an old hunter and trapper, "we'll have
smoke to-night, sure! This is wild tea; and it's the
next best thing to the genuine article which is
mighty scarce in this camp so far as I know!"

The men fell to stripping the leaves from the
wild tea plants and did not return to camp until their
pockets were well filled. Nearly every fire that
evening had a rude rack of some sort erected over it
on which the leaves were spread to cure. Those
who were fortunate enough to find a few leaves
which had withered and dried in the sun, indulged
their appetite without delay. This seemed to revive
a general spirit of companionship and every man
who had a story of Indian adventure told it to his
fellows with a fresh gest.

When Rodney fell asleep it was to dream of a
strange jumble of his own experience, and the
exciting perils which he had just heard rehearsed.

He was in the midst of these imaginary dangers
when the sharp report of a firearm aroused him. He

I6O THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

leaped to his feet in time to hear several successive
discharges, following in rapid succession.

"Indians! The Indians are on us!" he shouted in
wild confusion, scarcely knowing what he said.

Seizing his rifle he rushed in the direction from
which the shots seemed to come. In this move he
was followed by the scouts.

He was not yet thoroughly awake and his real
surroundings were inextricably confused with the
imaginary scene of his dream.

The dim outlines of a figure leaping through the
brush immediately assumed the appearance of an
Indian, and he instantly raised his rifle to fire.

Just as he was about to press the trigger a strong
hand struck down the barrel of his rifle, which dis-
charged harmlessly into the ground.

"Not so fast, boy!" sternly commanded a voice
at his side, which he recognized as belonging to
Lieutenant Johns. This and a chorus of laughs
near by brought the bewildered lad to his senses.

"That's no Indian," continued the lieutenant.

The shout of "false alarm!" was then heard, and
they hastened to join the increasing group about the
nearest camp fire of the troopers. The men were all
laughing heartily, Rodney and the lieutenant joined
this merriment when they heard the explanation of
the alarm.

The trooper who had previously suffered merited
punishment at the heels of Old Pink-eye, had stooped
over the camp fire to light his pipe with a brand.
The pipe had slipped from his lips and fallen into

THE NIGHT ALARM. l6l

the fire from which the fellow had stupidly attempted
to hook it with the butt of his revolver, which the
scorching heat forced him to drop. At this he
had fled into the brush while the discharging fire-
arm scattered the embers and aroused the camp.

After the fun over the ludicrous affair had sub-
sided, Rodney returned to his blanket, devoutly
thankful that the lucky stroke of the lieutenant's
had spared him the likelihood of turning the amus-
ing episode into a painful tragedy.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE RETURN.

A LTHOUGH Rodney had succeeded in locating
J~\ the site of Big Bear's camp on the island, the
most diligent search on the part of experienced
scouts failed to discover the course by which the
wily chief had conducted his band in their depart-
ure. Several days were consumed in this fruitless
search, and during this time Rodney found excellent
rifle practice in shooting at the loons, which fre-
quented the distant end of the island.

As he returned from one of these excursions
Gilroy greeted him with the exclamation:

"Hurrah for home! The general has given
orders to pull up in the morning and retrace our
steps to civilization. That means that the chase
after Big Bear is abandoned, and that the scouts
will disband as soon as they reach home.

In other words the jig's up, and there will be
nothing more for you to do excepting to draw your
pay which I will give you when we get to Prince
Albert, for when we were there I sent an estimate of
the amount of money which I wanted the paper to
forward there for my use when we returned. Of
course it will cover your time until you are back in
Ft. Qu'Appelle again."

162

THE RETURN. 163

Rodney made no attempt to conceal his joy at
the news that the wretched war was over and that
he was soon to see his mother and the old home
again. He was heartily sick of bloodshed, and
while it gave him a glow of pride and satisfaction
to count up the snug sum of money which he had
earned, he had no desire to increase it at the price
of the continuance of the rebellion. Then the
thought that he was soon to see his mother filled
him with a yearning impatience which could not
tolerate the slightest delay. He planned to surprise
her and wondered just what he would find her doing
and what she would say to him and to the little fort-
une that he would carry home with him. He would
first lay out upon the table the money from Gilroy.
Then, after she had looked at that for a while, he
would take out his portion of the reward for the
capture of Kiel.

"How much do you make it that I will have
coming to me?" Rodney ventured to ask Gilroy.

"Two hundred and seventy-eight dollars. Why?
Isn't that the way you figure it?"

"I didn't make it quite as much as that," replied
Rodney. "Well I think you'll find that right. I
tried to allow a safe margin of time for you to get
home in; and if you should happen to make it in
less don't send any of the pay back. It would be
just like you to, though," laughed Gilroy.

The march back to Prince Albert was quite as
deliberate as the advance over the same trail, not-
withstanding the fact that the way was now clear,
12

164 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

through the timber, for them. There was no neces-
sity for haste, as in the advance, and the animals
were wasted by short rations of feed and by hard
work.

But at last they came in sight of Prince Albert
and Rodney and Gilroy hastened to the bank where
they found the remittance awaiting them.

No danger which the pioneer boy had been through
had filled him with greater conscious excitement or
given him quite the sense of manly importance that
he felt as he counted over the gold and silver coin
which Gilroy shoved toward him, on the outer ledge
of the bank counter. His first attempt to count it
correctly ended in a confused failure; but another
trial verified the accuracy of Gilroy's count.

The cashier handed them each an empty coin bag
into which they put specie.

" Now, Rodney, let's step into a store and get
a good buckskin money-belt that you can wear under
your clothes. Then you'll be all right," suggested
Gilroy.

They started out of the door when the cashier
called them back and said:

" We've received from the government, seven hun-
dred and fifty dollars for a scout named Rodney
Merton. It's half of the reward for the capture of
Riel. I thought I heard one of you speak the name
Rodney just now?"

"Well that's luck!" exclaimed Gilroy. "This
lad is Rodney Merton, who, with young Houri, capt-
ured Riel. I don't call him by his name once in a

THE RETURN. 165

hundred times and don't know what possessed me
to just now."

Rodney's identification being thus satisfactorily
established by Gilroy, the cashier paid over the re-
ward to the delighted and astonished boy, who had
never ''handled" as much money before in all his
life.

" You stay here while I go out and get the belt.
It won't do for you to show up all that money in any
store," said Gilroy, who soon returned.

The cashier opened, from within, a door into a
private apartment, where Rodney and Gilroy re-
paired to fill the money-belt and adjust it securely
under his clothing.

As Rodney went to feed and water Old Pink-eye
that evening, it occurred to him for the first time
that the faithful old animal belonged to Gilroy and
that on the morrow they would probably part com-
pany forever.

" Yes and my saddle, rifle and revolvers all belong
to him, too."

"It makes me sick to think of giving them all up;
they 've come to seem like a part of myself. But I
could stand letting all go, but Old Pink-eye he 's
like an old friend that's stood by in many a time of
need," mused Rodney, as he stroked the shaganap-
py's V-shaped neck.

"Well; I suppose I'll get passage over the trail
to-morrow with some teamsters going home," said
he to Gilroy, after supper.

" Not to speak of!" exclaimed Gilroy in aston-

166 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

ishment - - " not unless you'd rather do that than to
ride Old Pink-eye!"

" But the horse belongs to you and so do the
revolvers and rifle and saddle," said Rodney.

" Boy, you've earned your outfit, by what might
be called extra usefulness, many times over. But
do you suppose that I could ever take from you the
horse and rifle with which you saved my own life?
Not much! They're yours, and I wish I could throw
in a farm or two with them; but I can't. However,
I don't propose to lose sight of you, and you may
depend upon hearing from me as soon as I can find
a good opening of some kind for you."

Rodney attempted to express his gratitude
both for the gifts and the promise of future assist-
ance, but the genial, big-hearted newspaper man
would not listen to anything of the kind.

When it came, in the morning, to the actual
moment of saying good-bye to Gilroy, the lieutenant
and the other scouts with whom he had happened to
become most intimate, he was far more deeply
affected than he had anticipated, and a swelling
lump arose in his throat which required constant
swallowing " to keep down."

" I shall see you again before long but here's
good-bye 'till I do," exclaimed Gilroy, with a warm
pressure of the lad's hand; " and if you should want
to write me for anything, here's my address," he
added.

Rodney's homeward journey was not only full of
the delights of anticipation but of recollection as

THE RETURN. l6/

well, for his route was over the same road by which
he had come.

At Fish Creek he could not refrain from visiting
the cabin where he had found the mother of the lit-
tle Half-Breed girl, and was surprised to learn from
the mistress of the cabin that the mother had taken
her children to Ft. Qu 'Appelle, where they had rela-
tives. He spent much time in wondering who the
relatives could be and if the child would ever play
as important a part in his life as he had in hers. As
he passed the bog in which Gilroy had so ignomin-
iously floundered on the occasion of their foraging
expedition he could not repress a hearty laugh at
the recollection of the ludicrous spectacle which
they had both presented, and this was brought even
more vividly before him when the dog which had
given them such an exciting chase rushed out and
barked fiercely at the heels of Old Pink-eye.

After leaving Clark's Crossing it seemed to Rod-
ney that he was "almost home," and his heart leaped
with pride and gratitude to think how different wa<
his present home-coming from the one- -seemingly
years, but in reality not four months ago --when he
had tramped over the road from Grenfell, tired, dis-
couraged and ashamed.

Although he now, as then, wished that he might
pass through the village to his mother's cabin with-
out being seen by the loafers about the post and shop,
how different was the motive which prompted the
wish !

On approaching the post he put spurs to Pink-

l68 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

eye and cantered rapidly by, nodding hurriedly to
those who called out to him from the steps and doors
as he passed.

He did not slacken his horse's pace until in front
of his mother's cabin. Leaping from the saddle, he
rushed into the house.

"Rodney!' exclaimed his mother, lifting her
hands, sprinkled with flour, from the bread which
she was kneading. She threw her arms about him,
and when she unclasped them there were tears in her
eyes as well as in his.

" Deary-me! Just see how I've covered you with
flour," she continued ; and the little laugh at his
dusty appearance relieved the embarrassment and
gave them an opportunity to recover their usual com-
posure.

"Well, mother, I'm back again all right, and
here 's what I have to show for it," said Rodney
proudly, as he unfastened his bulging money-belt,
drew it from under his clothes,, and arranged the
coin upon the table. "There's just a hundred dol-
lars in each pile excepting the little one of twenty-
eight dollars. Just think of it! One thousand and
twenty-eight dollars in three months!

Mrs. Merton gazed at the shining piles of gold
eagles for some time, as though unable to compre-
hend the value of so much money, to say nothing
of realizing the fact that it was their own.

But at last when she began to grasp the reality,
she buried her face in her hands and wept as he had
seen her weep but few times before.

T -~. I' '- o-.

; W

K
H
O

THE RETURN. 169

"Don't cry, mother," he said, laying his hand ten-
derly on her soft, brown hair. "It's all yours every
dollar of it; only I want you to use part of it in
going to visit your folks in the States this winter.
There will be plenty left for that after paying for
the place."

She made no reply; but Rodney could see that
she did not as he feared she might at once reject
the proposition of the visit to Illinois.

After he had replaced the money in the belt and
secured it about him, he took his mother to the door
to exhibit Old Pink-eye, the rifle, revolvers and the
saddle which Gilroy had given him.

"And he's going to get me a good place on a
newspaper, too," observed Rodney, after expatiating
upon the merits of Gilroy and his gifts.

CHAPTER XVIII.

AN INDEPENDENT VENTURE.

WHERE had we better keep the money, mother?"
was the perplexing question which Rodney
raised after tethering old Pink-eye out to graze.

"Mercy on us I don't know! There's no bank
here and I'd be afraid to hide it for fear some one
would see you and go and get it."

"I've been thinking about that. How would it
do to give it to 'Two-Cent Tranquility' for safe-
keeping. '

"That's just right!" promptly replied Mrs. Mer-
ton. "He's as honest as the day is long and as cau-
tious and cunning as a weasel. I'd rather trust it
with him than to try to keep it ourselves."

And so Rodney ate an early supper and went
down to his old friend's shop, hoping to find him
alone. But in this he was disappointed, fora young
lumberman was waiting for a boot to be repaired
and before this was done one after another of the
village loafers began to drop in, eager to hear the
news "from the seat of war." Rodney, however,
knew that if he once began to relate incidents of
the war, an epidemic of story-telling would set in
and he would have no chance for a private audience
with the shoemaker before midnight. He gave as
brief answers as possible to their questions and

170

AN INDEPENDENT VENTURE. 17!

maintained strict silence when not compelled to
speak.

This unresponsive course had its desired effect
and when the last of his questioners took leave it
was not quite nine o'clock by the shoemaker's round
bull's-eye watch, which had ticked away above the
bench as long as Rodney could remember.

"Now give us a little account of yourself," said
the old shoemaker, as he tied up his leather apron
and put it away in the bench drawer, from which he
took his pipe and a package of tobacco, preparatory
to giving the anticipated narrative his sympathetic
attention.

When Rodney had concluded a hasty account of
his adventures the old man reached forward his
right hand, tapped the end of his fingers lightly
upon the boy's knee and exclaimed :

"Boy, you've done well. Your own father
couldn't have done better ! Now, how much have
you saved and what are you going to do with it?"

"Just one thousand and twenty-eight dollars, and
I am going to pay for the place and give the rest to
you to keep for me until mother goes back to
Illinois to visit her folks. But I'd like to have you
take it all now, for mother thinks it would be much
safer with you than with us."

The old man, flattered by this confidence, gladly
accepted the responsibility and took the belt; but
insisted upon giving Rodney his written receipt for
the money.

On the following day Rodney, accompanied by

172 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

Toussaint Tranquilite, visited the government land
agent, paid the three hundred dollars demanded for
a clear patent of title to the farm, and returned with
the precious document in Rodney's pocket.

He at once presented it to his mother, who took
it in her trembling hands, as the tears gathered in
her eyes, and slowly read every word of it.

"Just think how long he worked for it and then
never got! It takes away the biggest part of the
comfort to think that he can't be here to have it
himself."

" But then, father's pleasure in owning the home
would have been in the thought that you and I
would have it 'to fall back on'- -as he used to say;
and so long as we have it now I'm sure he would
want us to be very happy in it," cheerfully observed
Rodney.

"Yes, I suppose that's so," assented Mrs. Merton
with a readiness quite unlike the habitual gloom with
which she had come to receive the few encouraging;

c> O

things which had entered into her life, in later years,
This symptom of increasing hopefulness was more
welcome to Rodney than the most flattering pros-
pect of any personal success and he felt like ex-
claiming:

" Oh, mother, I'm going to make you grow young
again, yet! '

For several days Rodney busied himself in con-
structing a snug stable for old Pink-eye and "fixing
things up generally" about the place. There was a
comforting sense of proprietorship in doing this

AN INDEPENDENT VENTURE. 173

which gave him a far greater pleasure than he had
ever derived in making any previous improvements.
He had never been happier before and he sang and
whistled constantly as he plied his hammer and
saw.

But although his hands were busily employed in
this work his thoughts were equally busy planning
his future.

At first he thought that he would at once write
to Gilroy asking his assistance in securing a position
upon the Montreal paper. But here his manly inde-
pendence asserted itse'f.

"No, sir! I'll get one myself. I've received
enough favors from him already. If he should
write to me offering me a place, that would be dif-
ferent; but I'll try faithfully alone first. If I fail,
it will be time enough to call on him then," he ex-
claimed, with the enthusiasm of strong conviction.

How to begin this struggle for a footing was the
next question, and a difficult one, too. Upon care-
ful reflection he decided that the best way was to
purchase several of the leading Dominion papers
and write to the publishers stating his experience in
the rebellion, referring them to Gilroy, and request-
ing a trial in case there was any chance for him.

The next out-going post carried nearly a dozen
carefully-worded applications to the principal papers
of Winnepeg, Ottawa, Toronto, Quebec and Mon-
treal.

In spite of the fact that he told himself that he
could not expect an answe from even the nearest

1/4 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

one inside of ten days, a week found him an anxious
watcher of every in-coming post.

But, although this anxiety daily increased until
it amounted to nervous restlessness, he did not re-
ceive a reply until three full weeks had elapsed.
The others followed in succession, until the list was
complete. They were all of the same sort, politely
declining his services.

He had faced death beside Gilroy and beside
Captain French with soldierly nonchalance and
bravery, but he could not face that pile of letters
without something very like tears coming into his
eyes.

It was only after days of sharp contest with his
pride and independence that he could bring himself
to the distasteful expedient of writing to Gilroy,
from whom he considered that he had already
received so much assistance. Nor did the thought
of the service which he had happened to render
Gilroy at Fish Creek, help the matter any. On the
contrary it made him feel all the more unwilling to
appeal to Gilroy.

"But it must be done there doesn't seem to be
any other way out of it but this," was his reluctant
conclusion, and he therefore wrote to the corres-
pondent detailing his attempt and failure to obtain,
through his own exertions, a position. He directed
the letter carefully to the address which Gilroy had
given him and dropped it into the post with the
comfortable assurance that this, at least, would bring
some kind of success.

AN INDEPENDENT VENTURE. 175

"I'll not count on getting an answer from this
until three weeks," he said to himself. When that
period had passed without bringing a word from
Gilroy his expectancy alternated between the keen-
est despondency and the liveliest fears; but the
former steadily gained the ascendancy with each
passing day.

When he could no longer invent any plausible
explanation for the failure other than Gilroy's
permanent absence, unaccountable indifference or
death, Rodney gave up all hope in that direction
and again turned his thoughts upon his own re-
sources.

His first move was to urge upon his mother the
desirability of starting upon their visit to Illinois
before the cold weather should begin. She con-
sented more readily than he had anticipated and
before the first frost whitened the ground about Ft.
Qu' Appelle they were on their way to Chicago,
where "Uncle Rob" was to meet them on one of the
frequent trips to the city, which he was obliged to
make in pursuit of his vocation of drover or " stock
buyer."

Rodney would have been ashamed to confess
how wonderful the beginning of that first ride upon
a railway train seemed to him; but when the train
at last came to its final halt in the Union depot in
Chicago, he confidentially remarked to his mother:

"It seems as though we had always lived on the
cars don't it, mother?"

"Yes; and it don't seem as though this awful

176 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

rumble and clack-a-ty-clack would ever get out of
my head and ears," replied Mrs. Merton.

They found Uncle Bob awaiting them inside the
gate. He was a jolly, hearty man, who laughed
loudly on every occasion which offered the slightest
pretext for merriment.

"Well, boy, now for the hotel and a good square
meal! Then, after your ma and I've had a little visit,
we'll go out and take in the sights."

"All right, Uncle Bob. If you don't mind I'd
rather see the newspaper offices than anything else.
Have you ever been in them?"

"Never. But I can't go younger than to-night.
So we'll manage it some way."

The second-class hotel at which the drover
stopped seemed a marvel of magnificence to Mrs.
Merton and Rodney.

By the time dinner was over and Mrs. Merton
and her brother had finished their visit in the hotel
parlor, it was five o'clock.

"Now's a good time to go round by the news-
paper offices on Fifth Avenue and see the boys
hustling out the evening papers."

It was a strange and interesting sight to Rodney
to watch the ragged array of newsboys in front of
each of the evening paper offices, their arms piled
with the damp papers fresh from the great perfecting
presses which were thundering away in the base-
ment below.

He forced his way through the motley crowd of
urchins, who were laughing, quarreling, singing and

,s .

RODNEY AND THE CHICAGO NEWSBOYS:

AN INDEPENDENT VENTURE. I 77

fighting, close up to one of the basement windows
through which he could obtain a view of the
presses. There was something tremendously thrill-
ing and almost supernatural to Rodney in the great
whirling cylinders, the seemingly endless roll of
"white paper" which unwound itself into printed and
folded sheets at the other end of the presses.

"I suppose its too late for me to try to get a place
to-day, don't you?" he inquired of his uncle.

"Yes; we would'nt have time. Our train goes
out at seven o'clock and we will have to eat supper
in the meantime. But you can come in most any
time, for I live only fifty miles out and have to
come in every week with cars of stock. I can get
you a pass to come in on whenever you want

one.'

Rodney then bought an assortment of the papers
and they started back for their hotel.

Had Rodney been less absorbed in examining
the papers he could not have escaped from noticing
the sensation that his leather-bound white felt hat
and Northwestern breeches, which fitted his legs
tightly and buttoned at the knees, created among
the newsboys and the passers; but his pre-occupation
spared him this annoyance.

After another hearty meal in the hotel, they
again took the cars and arrived at the little country
town, in which Uncle Bob's cosy home was situated,
a little before nine in the evening.

Rodney's dread of meeting the remainder of the
family vanished as soon as he heard the kindly

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

voice of Aunt Susan, and saw the round, merry faces
of his cousins, May and Frank.

The two boys soon retired to the room which
they were to share during Rodney's visit; but it was
dangerously near midnight when Frank exacted the
last narrative of Rodney's experiences in the
rebellion from the young newspaper scout, who was
henceforth to be a veritable hero in the eyes of
Frank and the other village boys of his "set."

Rodney's first request, on the following morning,
when Frank volunteered to show him the town, was
to be taken to the office of the local paper.

CHAPTER XIX.

A SMALL FOOTING.

( ( F KNOW 'Corkey' Simpson who sets type on the
Record" explained Frank, as the two boys
walked down the village street. "And he'll show
us all there is to see in the office. He writes most
of the locals himself and a good many of the town folks
believe that lie is the local correspondent of the Chi-
cago papers."

"Do you think that we could get him to tell us
that? You see I want to get a letter of introduction
to some of the Chicago editors and he'd be just the
one to get it from if we could manage it," said Rod-
ney.

"I'll try, anyway," answered Frank, who was
greatly flattered at the prospect of being of any
assistance to so heroic a personage as Rodney.

They climbed a dark and dirty stairway and
found themselves in a big room, which looked bare
and empty in spite of the type cases, imposing
tables, presses and type galleys with which it was
cluttered.

"Corkey," who was the only inhabitant of the
place, slipped from the high stool upon which he was
setting, clapped a slug into his composing stick to
hold the unfinished line of type in place, and hobbled

179

ISO THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

forward to welcome his visitors. At every step his
cork leg gave an audible squeak which revealed to
Rodney the probable derivation of the fellows cur-
ious nickname.

After introductions were over it did not take
Frank long to hint at the distinguished nature of
their guest, and the conference ended by Corkey's
taking them bodily into his confidence and not only
revealing the fact that he was, as Frank had sur-
mised, the local correspondent of the city dailies,
but he volunteered his services in any capacity that
might serve Rodney's pleasure.

The remainder of their visit was spent in exam-
ining the mechanical appliances used in the making
ot the country weekly.

"You see," explained Corkey, we only set up
the local news and advertisements here. The re-
mainder of the paper is printed in Chicago, by
a 'ready-print' or 'patent-inside' house. That part
of it contains the general news of the day, the
'Agricultural' and 'Home' departments. I teii you
they have an immense establishment in there at the
American Newspaper Union; that's where we buy
our patent inside. They print or furnish plates to
about three thousand local dailies and weeklies."

This was an interesting feature in the production
of a weekly paper, of which Rodney had been
entirely ignorant. It set him to thinking.

"If I fail to get any place on one of the big dailies
I will try one of those 'patent-inside' houses," he
resolved.

A SMALL FOOTING. l8l

Armed with a letter to the editor of each of the
Chicago papers, for which Corkey was local corre-
spondent, Rodney again accompanied his uncle to
the big city.

A ride up a creaking and hitching elevator,
which made him feel painfully unsteady, landed him
on the top floor of the first newspaper office on
his list.

"Managing editor second doo' to de left!" called
the colored elevator boy, as he shut the grated door
of the elevator sharply behind Rodney.

A stern, bald-headed man sat at a large flat desk
in the center of the room, opening and reading a
batch of telegrams. At his left, in the corner, a
younger man clicking the typewriter.

Rodney's heart beat with terrific violence as he
stood, with his scout's hat in hand, waiting for the
editor to look up.

The latter seemed entirely oblivious to the boy's
presence until the last telegram had been read and
tossed into a flat wire basket.

Then the man looked up and said:

"Well, what is it?" with a sharpness which startled
Rodney and seemed to imply that it was he and
not the boy who had been kept waiting until
patience had nearly ceased to be a virtue.

Rodney could not, on the spur of the instant,
summon an answer, but simply handed the editor
Corkey's letter of introduction.

"Go to the city editor, next door," was the only
reply which the editor made as he handed back the

1 82 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

letter and wheeled about, in his swivel chair, to
speak to the stenographer.

With this blunt dismissal Rodney entered the
city editor's room.

The desk at which that dignitary sat smoking a
cob pipe while holding a telephone receiver to his
ear was partitioned off from the front of the room
by a low railing. At his back were several plain
pine tables littered with small sheets of white print
paper.

When the man had shouted "All right so long!"
into the telephone, and turned his keen gray eyes
upon Rodney, the letter was again passed from the
boy's hand. In a voice slightly "shaky" with ex-
citement Rodney stammered:

"I've been all through the Riel Rebellion as
assistant to the correspondent of the London Illus-
trated news and one of the Montreal papers, and can
refer you to him."

This seemed to slightly soften the severity with
which he seemed about to dismiss the application.

"That's all right, but we're full. In fact, I've got
to cut down the local staff."

It was with still greater trepidation that Rodney
climbed several flights of stairs leading to the city
editor's room of the next paper.

The first object which met his eye was a placard
dangling from the editorial desk, on which was
printed, in bold black letters, the announcement;

"NO VACANCIES.'

He turned out of the room as quickly as he "had

A SMALL FOOTING. 183

entered and went down the stairs with heavj and
discouraged tread.

His subsequent calls were only variations of the
same treatment, but he kept perseveringly to the
end of the list.

It was time for his train home when he had made
his last fruitless application, and he spent the whole
homeward ride in gazing disconsolately out of the
car window and reflecting bitterly upon his failure
to receive a reply to his letter to Gilroy, which
seemed to be the cause of all his later woes.

But this mood soon exhausted itself, and he
thought of it as very childish and unreasonable.

In the morning he regained his old courage and
resolution, and dropped in upon Corkey with a
cheerful face, and laughingly related his experience
of the previous day.

The editor of the Record was absent on a pro-
tracted fishing excursion, and Corkey was at liberty
to entertain as many of his friends as possible so
long as he got out the paper. Consequently Rodney
tarried longer than usual, and made a searching ex-
amination of the "exchanges" and the office in gen-
eral.

Among the exchanges he found a long open
manila envelope containing printed matter.

"Those are sample sheets from the patent-inside
house and you'll always find two or three rattling good.
stories and sketches in them. They run to adventures
generally. Take 'em home with you and read 'em
if you like," said Corkey, as he saw the envelope.

1 84 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT

Rodney did so. The sketches seemed very
direct and simple. They were marked "original"
and therefore must have been purchased by the pat-
ent-inside house.

"Why there isn't half as much to that story as
there was to the one that Col. Williams told that
night by the camp fire at Loon Lake," thought
Rodney. Suddenly the inspiration flashed upon
him.

"I'll write out the colonels' adventure and offer
it to them!"

Corkey furnished him with a quantity of neatly
cut "copy-paper" and he sat down to work.

But he could not word the opening sentence to
suit him. He wondered how adventure stories
usually began. Another inspiration came to his as-
sistance. Hurrying home to his uncle's he rapidly
"went through" several months' numbers of the
Youth's Companion, which Frank always kept neatly
filed for re-reading, making a careful study of "the
adventure page" in each number. When he had com-
pleted this investigation, he had gained a clear idea
of the proper construction and essentials of a good
adventure story.

Then he again went to the desk and wrote with
a rapidity which surprised him, the story which had
so interested him as it came from the lips of the scout.

Frank came in just as he finished the last page,
to get him to go to the grove and gather some wal-
nuts.

"Well, see what you think of this first and then

A SMALL FOOTING. 185

I'll go," was his reply, as Frank dropped into the
nearest chair and Corkey left his stool and leaned
against the corner of the desk, composing stick in
hand, while Rodney read his first attempt at a
story.

The exclamations of admiration which he received
from his audience made Rodney feel not a little
elated.

" To-morrow I'm going all over it again, care-
fully," said Rodney.

" And if you like I'll look out for the punctuation
a little. That's very important, you know; a prac-
tical printer has to learn that carefully," suggested
Corkey.

This suggestion was gratefully accepted and the
manuscript was left with him, while Frank and Rod-
ney finished the day by securing a fat bag of nuts
and shooting several squirrels.

On the morrow Rodney again labored faithfully
on his story, cutting it down to the exact length of
the story in proof sheet and making various changes
for its improvement.

" I wonder how it would look in print," he mused,
as he made the last correction.

" I'll show you in about an hour," quietly respond-
ed Corkey. "It's short and I'm going to set it up and
give you a good clean proof of it to take into the
editor, instead of the written copy. It will be very
much clearer."

The boys were delighted with the proof which
Corkey presented to them, and in the morning Rod-

1 86 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

ney again boarded the cars with new courage and
hope.

The editor received him with so much kindly
consideration that Rodney ventured to at once make
application for a ' beginner's position," and pre-
sented the story as a sample of his work.

" Where did you pick up this incident? '' inquired
the editor.

" Around the camp fire, when we were on the
island at Loon Lake."

Then the editor, by occasional questions, drew
from Rodney an account of his experiences in the
rebellion and also of his independent struggle to
obtain a footing in the ranks of newspaper work.

"Well, I'll take this sketch and pay you seven
dollars for it, and I'll give you a trial as copyholder,
at six dollars a week to begin with, for the young
fellow who has been with us in that capacity has
just got a position as reporter on the News. It will
just about pay your board; but perhaps you can oc-
casionally chink in a sketch which will help you out
with a little extra."

"At last!" was Rodney's inward exclamation of
gratitude as he heard the words. He was almost
surprised at his success, and was almost as over-
joyed as when he had secured the position with
Gilroy, at the old fort. He could scarcely wait to
carry the good news to his mother and Frank and
Corkey.

They rejoiced with him as only big-hearted boys
can rejoice with an admired mate in a success to

A SMALL FOOTING. 1 87

which they felt that they had in some measure con-
tributed.

Both were at the train, Monday morning, to "see
him off" as he went to begin his first day's labor.

CHAPTER XX.

A GREAT TRIUMPH.

A LTHOUGH Rodney found the task of "holding
i\ copy," listening to the monotonous voice of the
proofreader and keeping his mind concentrated
upon the copy in hand, to see that it corresponded
in every word and figure with the proof, a very exact-
ing one, the work w r as quite as pleasant and agree-
able as he had anticipated.

He soon grew accustomed to his surroundings
and was welcomed in full and hearty fellowship by
the members of the editorial staff, who, with the ex-
ception of the editor-in-chief, were young men.

During the noon hour, before and after lunch,
Rodney fell naturally into the habit of drifting into
the artists' room, where the younger men congrega-
ted. Story-telling was always the order of the hour,
and as no silent partners were allowed he was forced
to draw for his contribution to the impromptu social
entertainment, upon his "roughing-it" experience in
the rebellion, and it was plainly evident to Rodney
that this experience increased the respect in which
they held him as a member of the craft.

Keen and constant observation of all the details
of the varied departments of the work which went
on about him, and ultimately passed under his in the
copy, \vas a broad education to Rodney, which he
mastered with devouring eagerness.

188

A GREAT TRIUMPH. 189

His evenings were spent in the study of some
subject which the work of the day suggested, and
the monthly sketch which he regularly submitted to
the editor was not only as regularly accepted, but
showed such marked improvement as to elicit words
of praise from the young men who congregated in
the artist's room.

"Why don't you try your hand at a special for
one of the dailies? Or perhaps a sketch is more in
your line. I know a dozen of the boys who make
from ten to fifteen dollars a week out of their
specials" suggested the editor of the "miscellany"
department.

This suggestion was immediately acted upon by
the preparation of an article upon "The Mounted
Police of Canada," in which he drew his coloring
from his own observation, the accounts which he
had heard from the scouts, while he gathered the
"solid facts and figures" from a perusal of English
and Canadian journals, which he found by diligent
search in the public libraries.

Good fortune rewarded his efforts where before
he had failed, and the article was accepted. He
was not a little surprised, when, after weeks of wait-
ing, the article appeared in print with the "solid
facts" upon which he had so largely relied for its suc-
cess, largely expunged.

In this way the winter passed to February.

As the family sat about the pleasant base-burner
in Uncle Bob's sitting-room, one Sunday evening,
Mrs. Merton said:

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"Rodney, I wish you could get something to do
in the spring that would take you out of doors and
give you the good healthful exercise that a boy
needs and you have always had before."

"Yes," interrupted Uncle Bob, "I'm with you in
that, Mary. It 's no good for boys the age of these
two to be cooped up in ahouse or office, pouring over
books and papers. Time enough for that after they
are men. What they need is to have a little more
roughing it."

"I was just thinking," said Rodney, "of the
string of traps that I had out last winter, and how I
would like to turn out early in the morning and
'make the rounds' of them once more. Looking at
the snow on the branches of those pines out there
by the gate makes me just hungry for a good long
tramp on my rackets"

"And wouldn't I like to go with you, though!"
seconded Frank, closing the copy of Ballantyne's
"Young Fur Traders," from which he was reading.

"Say," he added, "to-morrow is Washington's
birthday, and you don't have to go back to your
work till Tuesday. Let's go out rabbit-shooting."

"All right. I'd forgotten that it was a holiday,
but I remember now that the boys said so," res-
ponded Rodney.

When nuts, apples and books had been enjoyed
through the long evening, the two boys went to their
chamber to spend another hour in a secret confer-
ence upon the preparations for the morrow's hunt.

They awakened early, to find that a light snow

A GREAT TRIUMPH. IQI

had fallen during the night, which would render the
hunting prime.

Frank put his gun in order, and then they went
together to borrow one for Rodney from a friend

After a hasty breakfast, foraged from the pantry,
they set out with Uno, Frank's beagle hound, eager
for the chase.

"Let's go first to the nursery, where the rabbits
feed on Jhe young seedlings," suggested Frank,
leading the way.

This was in the edge of the village, and as they
came in sight of it Rodney exclaimed :

"Gracious ! Just look at that; what a perfect
network of tracks. This place must be fairly alive
with them !"

Frank's answer was directed to Uno, who
bounded in among the seedlings as soon as the
words "Hunt 'em out" escaped Frank's lips.

A moment later Rodney exclaimed:

"There ! There !" and the reports of both their
guns rang out upon the keen frosty air with a famil-
iar shock which thrilled Rodney through and
through.

"Number one for both of us !" said Frank, as
each picked up the plump rabbit which his first shot
had killed.

Their guns were kept warm by constant firing
until the forenoon was well advanced, when Rod-
ney remarked :

" You've bagged ten and I'm only one behind you.

This is all we can possibly use in our family with a
14

IQ2 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

good margin for Corkey and the friend from whom
you borrowed the cam. I think it's a shame to kill

*- o

more game than you can possibly make use of; don't

~
you?

"Yes, I do," replied Frank; " suppose we go back
by the way of the postoffice and get the mail."

" I suppose you'd be just as anxious to appear on
the main street if you had only your gun instead of
such a fat string of rabbits to carry," laughingly re-
sponded Rodney.

" No, I'm not ashamed of that string and I don't
care who sees it, either. But I do want to get the
mail, too honest Injun," replied Frank.

"Whew! Here's one for both of us!" exclaimed
Frank, as he took a couple of letters from the post-
master's hand and passed one of them to Rodney.

As they passed out of the postoffice, Rodney
exclaimed:

"Oh, Frank, just take my gun a minute! It's
from Gilroy!"

They stood still upon the steps while Rodney
tore open the envelope with eager and trembling
fi nirers and read aloud:

"MR. RODNEY MERTON, Ft. Qu'Appelle, etc.
"Dear Lad: Awful sorry I didn't get your letter,
but I've been ' outside the pale of civilization' ever
since it was written, up to this date. But 'all's well
that ends well,' and this ending I think will suit you,
for I want you to come on at once to Montreal
(check enclosed) and go with me on a newspaper
exploration through the Hudson Bay county. Pay

'DEAR SIR COME AT ONCE, ETC

A GREAT TRIUMPH. 193

$200 per month and all expenses. Six in the party
and all good fellows, too. So you see we'll hunt
the musk-ox on his native heath, and perhaps the
polar bear, too for there is no telling how far
north we may go. The expedition is splendidly
equipped and has plenty of money behind it. Lose
no time in reaching here at the earliest possible
moment. If you know of a good straight lad about
your age who has the right timber in him and is in
for this kind of thing bring him along at half the pay
I named for you. If you cannot come, telegraph,
otherwise I shall expect you. Yours,

"GlLKOY."

The two boys looked into each other's faces and
understood the "volumes" which they were unable to
speak.

" Do you suppose they will let us?" was the
tremendous problem which rose to their lips. But
they did not speak it. Instead, Rodney exclaimed:
" Oh, wouldn't it be too good for earth if we could!"
Frank's only answer was a boyish
" Whoop!" which passersby probably interpreted
as irrepressible enthusiasm over his heavy string of
rabbits.

That evening the family council assumed an

CJ *

unwonted seriousness and its members deliberated
pro and con over the great question before them.
But trood Uncle Bob brought matters to final close

C7> C>

by saying:

" Well, Mary, I say let 'em go. No use in keep-
ing them over the coals any longer. We might just

TQ4 THE YOUN 7 G NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

as well decide it right now and here; and for one, so
far as Frank is concerned, I give my consent."

"Just as you think best, Robert," promptly acqui-
esced Frank's mother.

"Well, I think it will be better for Rodney than
staving in an office," said Mrs. Merton.

/ o

And so the boys went to bed too happy to sleep
or do anything but plan for the great expedition
into the "Hudson Bay country."

\ X

CARL AT EIGHT YEARS OF AGE.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE

SCHOOL-MASTER

THE LIFE OF CARL MACKENZIE

DEDICATED TO THE SCHOOL-TEACHERS OF AMERICA

ONE OF THE TEACHERS

CHICAGO:

W. B. CONKEY COMPANY,
1895

Entered according to act of Congress, in tneyear 1891, byC. M. Pinkerton.
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE.

Life is short, and teachers, like most other busy and
useful people, have to economize it. No intelligent per-
son doubts the value of a good story, whether told or
written. In the domain of teaching, stories are scarce,
and good stories are very scarce. One of the problems
for the thoughtful educator of to-day is: How shall we
get the teachers to better understand the nature of their
business the fundamental principles upon which it is
based the responsibilities and the opportunities which are
theirs? Can this knowledge be gained better from learned
treatise and plausible theory, or from actual experi-
ence as given in story? This is the question; and while
we agree that all these are good, and are used by the
more thoughtful teachers, we must remember that many
would-be teachers come to their work with little reading
to stimulate thought, and with less experience. We must
also remember that a story is refreshing to the older
teachers, and that nine out of ten of the younger ones
will read a story which combines logic and experience,
giving incidents of interest which illustrate the things
they should know, when they would not think of a ped-
agogy. This principle has long since prevailed in the
domains of history and the natural sciences; and our con-
viction that it applies with equal force to the study of

4 PUBLISHER'S NOTE.

pedagogy among teachers, accounts for the publication
of this little book, which we send out in the sincere hope
that it will lead to a more intelligent appreciation of the
teacher's work, and to the greater strength which comes
from a carefully selected teacher's professional library.
Parents and pupils can hardly fail to see more clearly
their responsibilities for having read this story; and teach-
ers will do well to aid us in placing it where it will ac-
complish the desired results. All such co-operation will
be much appreciated by the publishers.

PREFACE.

In writing this little book the author has not intended
to startle the world with anything new in thought, or
method, or discipline in school-work. Much less would
he claim for the book any special literary merit. But
from the experience of twenty years in actual school-
work he has gathered a web of fact and experience, and
interwoven with it that of which the world never tires
a love-story.

The author has simply tried to give the tired and
perhaps discouraged teacher a few hours of pleasant
recreation, interspersed with practical suggestions, and
an exalted ideal of the work of the teacher.

THE AUTHOR.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
CARL' s INFANCY 7

CHAPTER II.
CARL' s FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL 18

CHAPTER III.
CARL' s BOYHOOD 30

CHAPTER IV.
CARL AND DORA 48

CHAPTER V.
THE SPELLING SCHOOL 62

CHAPTER VI.
CARL AT HIGH SCHOOL 70

CHAPTER VII.
THE REVIVAL 79

CHAPTER VIII.
CARL THE "BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE ' 91

CHAPTER IX.
THE LOST LETTER 109

CHAPTER X.
A DAY'S EXPERIENCE COPIED FROM CARL'S DIARY... 125

CHAPTER XL
IN THE ROCKIES 148

CHAPTER XII.
HOME 165

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE

SCHOOL-MASTER

CHAPTER I.

CARL'S INFANCY.

"So too with man: he hastens from his birth

To youth, to manhood, to maturity.
And when, at length, when his life-work is done,

He does but sleep awhile beneath the earth,
To wake anew the Father's face to see,

In changeless realms of never endless sun."

"Hello, Doc! Hello!" The sun was disappearing be-
hind the rocky cliff. Dr. McKenzie, his wife Jane, with
their four sons and two daughters two sons having been
laid in the village grave-yard were seated at their even-
ing meal. The simple thanksgiving had just been said,
when from the pike came the sound, "Hello, Doc!
Hello! "

It was a familiar sound to the whole family, for the
Doctor had a large and lucrative practice. As usual, he
immediately rose and started toward the door; but before
reaching it he stopped and looked at his wife, and as
their eyes met, hers plainly said, "I cannot be left alone
to-night;" and his answered back, "You shall not be,

8 BUCKEYE-HAV.'KEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

Jane;" yet not a word was uttered by either. He turned
and opened the door, and said, "Well what is it?"

"Oh, Doc! get your horse and come quick. Tom Jones'
team ran off with him and threw hin and his wife over
High Bluff, and we fear they are both killed. Come at
once. I'll go right back and tell them you are coming."

And before Dr. McKenzie had time to utter a word,
the rider had put spurs to his horse and was gone. Again
the Doctor turned to look for those eyes; the gentle
hand of his wife was on his shoulder, her loving eyes
were filled with tears, and with a husky voice she said:
"Doctor, you shall go. The Heavenly Father will be
kind, you know, and you'll be back before morning."

A moment more, and Dr. McKenzie was in his saddle;
Old Aunt Hannah Grubbs, an old faithful nurse, was on
her way to his home for the night, and he went gallop-
ing in the direction of the home of Tom Jones. The
good wife, Jane, was the last of the family to retire for
the night's rest. As it was her custom in the absence
of her husband, she called the family about her, read a
chapter, and, kneeling, offered a simple prayer; then with
the good-night kisses she saw that all were snugly
tucked away for the night's repose.

Long she sat in front of the fire-place, gazing at the
smoldering embers, a feeling of loneliness filling her
heart. Now and then' her face upturned, as if implor-
ing divine aid; more than once a tear coursed its way
down her cheek, and an audible sigh answered the heavy
breathing of the sleepers in the adjoining room.

At last she knelt, and with clasped hands and trusting,
child-like faith, committed herself to the care of a loving

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 9

Father an earnest outpouring of the soul too sacred
for these pages.

To those who believe in divine blessings in answer
to human prayer, I need not say she arose strengthened
and reconciled.

Just at the dawn af day Dr. McKenzie came gallop-
ing up the pike, hitched his horse and entered his home.
The first sound that met his ears was the cry of his
new-born son, Carl McKenzie, the seventh son of the
seventh son, and the hero of this story.

A crystal stream, called "White Eyes Creek, " for cent-
uries has wound its way among the hills and through
one of the loveliest valleys of Southeast Ohio. Almost
in the center of this valley was the town of Chili, a
village characterized, as most villages are, by a black-
smith-shop, wagon-shop, shoe-shop, harness-shop, tin-
shop, grocery store, and post-office. It also contained a
church edifice and school-house. In this building the
township officers held sway; here they were elected,
sworn in, and administered the affairs of the township
government.

The village also had the notoriety of being situated
at the "cross-roads." Running parallel with the valley
was the State road, and across it from east to west was
the well-known "National Pike," stretching like a blue
streak from the Delaware to the Mississippi.

In the western edge of the village, and a little south
of the pike, was the residence of Dr. McKenzie. With-
out an exception it was the best and most commodious
building in the village. In front of the house, running
east and west, was a stone fence three feet high; the

to BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

other three sides were inclosed by palings. Between
the house and fence was a beautiful lawn, interspersed
with evergreens, lilacs, and rose-bushes. Back of the
house was the garden, in which grew sage, tansy, rue,
parsley, shives, spearmint, winter onions, and garlic ;
strawberries, raspberries, currants, gooseberries, and
other garden vegetables.

On the east was a spring of as clear pure water as ever
bathed a human tongue or cooled the glottis of the
thirsty brute.

On the west was a high, precipitous, picturesque rocky
cliff the resort of the entire village populace on Sunday
summer afternoons.

Carl passed through early babyhood in much the same
way as other babies do. He was fat, plump, and rosy;
knew how to laugh the first thirty seconds of a minute,
and to cry for the next hour. He had the happy
faculty of knowing how to awake at any hour of the
night, and letting all the household know that he was
awake.

He soon learned how to look straight at nothing, and
to make the mother and everybody else believe that he
was closely scrutinizing ever) 7 object in the room. He
always ended these very knowing observations with a
satisfied yawning gape, a twisting up of the face and
closing of the eyes in sleep.

Carl's mother was a woman of far more than ordinary
native intelligence. She had a fair education, and was
exceedingly romantic and poetical ; she was gentle and
benevolent, usually looking on the bright side of life,
and showed the depth and strength of her nature by

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER II

bearing misfortune with fortitude. Prosperity to her was
only valued when she could share it with others.

The father had a robust constitution, black hair and
beard, a keen, piercing black eye, and walked with elastic
step and figure, as straight as an Indian; was quick in
his decisions, firm in his convictions fearless in their
expression conscientious, radical, determined in what-
ever he attempted. Yet, withal no one was more
gentle, kind, and loving.

Both the Doctor and his wife appreciated and enjoyed
the comforts and conveniences of their elegant home,
and looked forward with the brightest hopes for the
future.

But, like thousands of other kind-hearted men, he had
written his name too often as a pledge to pay other
men's debts.

In the early autumn of the same year in which Carl
was born, the following was found in the Coshocton
Herald: "SHERIFF'S SALE. On the first day of September,
18 , on the court-house steps, I will offer for sale to
the highest bidder, to-wit: The following-described

real estate, located at Chili, White Eyes Creek,

the elegant residence of Dr. McKenzie."

It might be well to add that not only the residence
was sold at this time, but most of the household goods.

A few days later, "on a cool September morn," three
covered wagons fronting westward were seen in front of
what had been the residence of Dr. McKenzie. Almost
the entire village had gathered to say "Good-bye" to
their old friends and neighbors.

There was deeply depicted upon the face of every

12 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

member of that household the earnest look which always
comes before farewells are said; and yet, at such times,
if one looks behind the cloud, they will be able to discern
the strong sunlight of determination accompanied by
the softer tintings of a bright hope for future years.

The Doctor was all life and animation; every word
and action seemed to show that he had made a correct
"diagnosis" of the case, and knew just when and where
and how to apply the remedies.

The wife was all animation, too; but the fact that she
drew over her face her sun-bonnet, and often used the
handkerchief loosely held by her apron-strings, told too
plainly of the cost to her of her separation from home,
friends, and landscape which she had learned so much
to love.

Among the crowd who filled the yard and road, and
stood around as at a funeral, talking in subdued tones,
none attracted so much attention as Aunt Hannah
Grubbs. She was small in stature, fat and rosy, in
spite of age. Formerly a native of Carolina, she still
retained the negro dialect.

She dandled Carl in her arms. Not a single day
since his birth, six months before, but she had coddled
and petted "her baby," as she was pleased to call him.

"You darlin' chile! ole Aunty nebber see yo' no mo';
wish Aunty could steal the chile. Darlin' honey, seems
lil-.e Aunty carnt gib yo' up, no how." And then she
would wipe her eyes with her apron, and Carl would
put both his little arms around her neck and flood her
cheek with kisses.

"Well, all ready, boys?" said the Doctor. "All ready,

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL -MASTER 13

Doc," replied the teamsters. Then followed the hand-
shaking and farewells, and "God bless you's;" and as
the teams slowly wended their way over the hills to the
westward, and the Doctor and family looked back from
the summit, a sea of waving handkerchiefs and hats met
their farewell gaze. The Doctor lifted Carl above his
head, and as they slowly disappared upon the western
side of the hill, the last view that the assembly had of
the McKenzie family was the white handkerchief waved
in the morning breeze by the dimpled hand of Carl
McKenzie.

As the day passed on, new scenes and a bracing atmos-
phere gave the travelers hope and vivacity. On the
afternoon of the fifth day, the little company left the
main State road, and took a less traveled thoroughfare,
known asCoe's Run Road. Finally this less frequented
way was left, and they found that they must cut their
way along a brook of limpid water, and through a forest
of lofty sugar-trees. After following the stream for
half a mile they came to its source, a gushing spring,
and just here the valley widened a little. The teams
were unhitched and a camp was formed. This was to be
the home for six years of the boy, Carl McKenzie.
There was not a stick amiss. One vast forest of oak,
hickory, walnut, poplar, chestnut, and maple extended for
miles in every direction, and on the summit of an adjacent
hill were tall and slender pines, with thickets of ever-
green laurel at their bases.

Game was plenty; deer, wild turkey, gray squirrel,
pheasants, etc., here found hundreds of secure retreats
in which they were safe from even the most wily hunters.

14 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

But to the tired mother there was little in this wild
woodland scene that seemed home-like or restful ; and no
wonder if the heart ached, and the eyes filled, as the
thoughts of the dear old home so lately left came unbid-
den into her mind. But the merry voices of her chil-
dren, Dr. McKenzie's brisk, cheerful tones, and, above all,
the caresses from the dimpled hands of baby Carl, filled
heart and mind with brighter thoughts; and, true woman
that she was, she found life's sweetest blessings in the
companionship of her children.

The erection of a log cabin was the work of but a few
days. No time was taken to hew the logs. They were
builded in, chinked and daubed, as they came from the
primitive forest. A large, flat, smooth stone was pro-
cured for the hearth, and from that as a base a large out-
side stone chimney was built. The old-fashioned crane
was firmly fastened on the inside, and the "Dutch
oven," in which many a delicious "pone" was baked and
many a fat turkey was roasted, found its place on this
hearth-stone.

The scenery around this humble cabin was exceed-
ingly beautiful. The great bubbling spring, with its
bowl-shaped basin, sent forth its cool, clear waters rip-
pling over the snowy pebbles. Beautiful brooklet!

"How quiet thy bosom, all transparent as the crystal,
Lest the curious eye thy secret scan, thy smooth round pebbles countl
How without malice, murmuring, glides thy current
O, sweet simplicity of days gone by
Thou shunnest the haunts of men to dwell in limpid fount."

The surrounding hills, emerald-capped with pine
and laurel the stately poplar and massive oak the
song of bird and the odor of flowers draw the soul

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 15

into nearness with nature's God. They are Heaven's firsc
book to man.

"The groves were God's first temples." It is not to be
wondered that Carl McKenzie became a lover of nat-
ure with such surroundings. Nor is it strange that, as
the years went by, he became familiar with the habits
of squirrel and wren, rabbit and pewit. Just across the
brink was the stable, where, each returning spring, the
pewit and the swallow built their nests' and the martin
found his home.

Dr. McKenzie was a practical botanist himself, and
many were the delightful talks he had with Carl, as they
wandered together over the hills, stopping here to exam-
ine the beautiful white umbel of the ginseng (aralia},
or there to look at the raceme of the cohosh (ranuncu-
lacecB}. The Doctor \\as a great lover of both gun and
rod, and Carl and his dog Fido were his frequent com-
panions. Carl having inherited from his mother a love
of the beautiful in nature, these rambles tended to in-
tensify this passion for passion it really was.

After the cabin was made comfortable, Dr. McKenzie
and his older sons found constant employment in clear-
ing, fencing the new farm, in burning the logs and brush
from the clearing; and in the early spring all were busy
helping in the sugar-making.

Near the log cabin stood the sugar-house, a building
almost as large as the cabin itself. Through the center
ran the furnace, with a capacity for six large kettles, hold-
ing from one-half to one barrel each. On one side, run-
ning the whole length, was the huge hollowed trough,
capable of holding ten barrels. Two hundred and fifty

l6 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

trees j'ielded from ten to fifteen barrels per day. This
amount was gathered each day by the older boys, and
hauled in a hogshead on a sled, drawn by Buck and
Berry, two sturdy oxen. Carl became driver at the age
of five. Sometimes he would ride on the sled, and some
times on Buck.

Carl, for the first seven years of his life, was his own
play-fellow. There were none younger in the family
than he, and the sister next older was five years his sen-
ior. True, she was often his companion and playfellow,
and in later years his counselor, and he loved her with
great fervency, but, after all, he was still alone in his
childish sports. His surroundings, his outdoor exercise,
his climbing, and running, and building, only added
strength to his already naturally strong constitution, and
his solitary life gave him a peculiarly quiet self-reliance.
He was necessarily his own counselor. He became ex-
ceedingly shy of strangers and very reticent; but, on the
other hand, he made companions of the animals and birds,
and the plants and trees around him.

His life, thus far, was that of supreme innocence; at
the age of seven he did not know the meaning of the words
"steal," "lie," or "swear." He could recall but two pun
ishments from his parents during this period of his life.
The first was from his mother. He had heard his broth-
ers tell about going in swimming, and thinking that he
would like to do as the larger boys did, he slipped down
to the bank of the little stream one afternoon and enjoy-
ed a bath all alone; but when the bath was over, some-
how he could not readjust his clothing, and in his nu-
dity and humility was compelled to present himself to

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 17

his mother and plead for mercy and the rrercy came in
the form of a first-class spanking. The second was from
the Doctor. Carl slipped the old rifle down one day
when the family weie in the upper corn-field, and shot a
hole through his father's favorite rooster. Carl never
learned whether the punishment was for the taking of the
gun or the shooting of the cock.

At six years of age Carl was a fine equestrian, and
could ride old Charley on a gallop, standing up or sitting
backward, using his steed's tail for a bridle.

CHAPTER II.
CARL'S FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL.

Coe's Run school-house was one mile and a half dis-
tant from Carl's home. The house was a comparatively
large one, built of hewn logs, lighted by six windows
three on either side seated with desks made out of pop-
lar lumber by a home mechanic; heated by a large "ten
plate" placed in the center of the room. There was one
blackboard, four by six feet, back of the teacher's desk,
and opposite the door.

The teacher was a young man whose father resided in
the district, and was the class-leader of the little band
of devout Methodists who met every Sunday in the
school-house for worship. John Tracy for that was his
name was every whit a gentleman. He was five feet
eight, and weighed one hundred and sixty pounds; had
brown hair and gray eyes; was smooth shaven affable
and talkative. He was a general favorite, not only with
his pupils, but in the entire neighborhood. His educa-
tion was only such as he had been able to gather from
the district school.

All of the McKenzie boys and girls were regular at-
tendants at school, excepting Carl. He had never ex-
pressed any desire to go, and Dr. McKenzie, as well as
his wife Jane, firmly believed that a permanent injury

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER IQ

is done the child by sending him to school at too early
an age especially under the school regime of those days,
before the kindergarten schools were known. The
Doctor argued that the child would become disgusted
with the routine of school-work before the mind was
sufficiently developed to appreciate the benefits of in-
struction. He was also a firm believer in the benefits of
home influence. He knew that his wife was a close student
of the best authors of her day, and, like himself, a student
of nature. He knew, too, that his boy would develop
more symmetrically intellectually, morally, and physic-
ally, under their immediate care, than in the cramming
process of the school. He was a personal friend of the
teacher, Mr. Tracy, but he well knew that Mr. Tracy
had never made a close study of what it was to mold
and fashion a human soul with all his good intentions
he knew that he was blindly experimenting with Heav-
en's choicest material, marring daily the noblest work
of God. The Doctor well knew that his child could be
a child but once. He knew that right development at
this age meant everything to the child, not only now, but
in eternity, and that mistakes now would be most ruinous.
He knew that Mr. Tracy had the best intentions, but
he also knew that he had entered upon his work without
the faintest idea of the responsibility assumed or the
end to be secured. He knew Mr. Tracy was not an ob-
server of the works of nature about him; that he had
never been a student of history; that his eyes had
never seen the names, Pestalozzi, Froebel, Page, and
Mann. He knew that such an individual, however well
disposed, could never inspire childhood with those no-

20 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

bier impulses and desires which nothing but further
progress can satisfy. He could never nurture and develop
in his pupils self-reliance, which nothing but impossi-
bilities can ever subdue. He had never realized that this
was any part of his duty in the school-room. He could
not lift and elevate the whole being of the child into
the realm of higher ideals, holier impulses, and greater
responsibilities.

At Christmas-time, Mr. Tracy treated the entire
school, and also sent a liberal supply to Carl by his
eldest sister.

This was a revelation to Carl. If school was the
place to get candy, then he was ready for school. At
the evening meal, Carl began:

"Father mother don't you think I am about old
enough to go to school? I just believe I'd like to go-
can I?"

"Father and mother would be so lonesome all daylong
with no little boy to chatter and to help," said his
mamma.

Carl's face at once became sober and thoughtful, and
presently, through his tears, he said:

"But, mother, I must be educated, you know and you
and father went to school, didn't you? and didn't your
father and mother stay at home?"

"Well, Carl, if you think you could leave father and
mother how about Fido, and Nale, and Bunnie, and
Tortoise, and the chickens? They would all miss you, I
am sure," said his papa.

"I suppose they would miss me, and I suppose they

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 21

would have to get used to it that's what I suppose,"
said Carl.

"Do let him go, mother," said Bess.

When Monday morning came, Carl was among the
number who wended their way to Coe's Run school-
house. He had fondled all his pets, and left many lov-
ing kisses on the lips of his parents had swallowed the
lump in his throat a thousand times and resolved that
he would be educated whatever that might mean. He
stopped at the fodder rack, to pat Buck and Berry, and
to tell them good-bye. When the bars at the end of the
lane were reached, he climbed up on top of the post and
looked b^ck, but could see nothing but the blue smoke
curling up from the top of the chimney. For a moment
his resolution almost failed him, and in his little heart
he said: '"I'm going back."

He knew a warm embrace would greet him if he did
go back; but just as he faltered, his brother Dick fright-
ened a rabbit out of a brush-heap, and with a whoop
and halloo, they all ran after it down the road. Carl's
chase quickened his pulse, and now that he could see
his home no more, he could better keep his resolution.

As they reached the school-house door, Carl walked
nearer the side of his sister Bess, who took him by the
hand, and they entered the school-room together. School
had not yet called. There was a warm fire, a cheerful
air, and all seemed orderly and home-like. Mr. Tracy
came forward and greeted all the McKenzies, and shook
hands with Carl. I wish to mention here that Carl was
a fair reader at this time in McGuffey's Eclectic First
Reader, and had a copy of that book with him.

22 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

When nine o'clock arrived, Mr. Tracy went to the
door, and with a two-foot walnut ruler tapped on the
weather-boarding, and in a few seconds all the pupils
were pleasantly seated in the school-room, The teacher
read a chapter, made a short prayer, and then all sang a
song, and the work of the day began.

Carl was in a new world. Since he had entered the
school room, no thoughts of dear parents and pets at
home had entered his mind. He was enraptured -with
all around him. This to him was the grandest place he
had ever been. No one had been unkind, or seemed un-
kind; every face around him beamed w r ith contentment
and happiness, and his little soul caught the inspira-
tion.

It was Mr. Tracy's custom to begin the lessons of
the day with his Abecedarians. As Carl sat like one who
had been suddenly transported to a new world and given
a position of honor and responsibility, and as one would
try, under such circumstances, to get their bearings, and
do just the right thing and nothing else, so Carl was
trying to adjust himself to his new surroundings. The
silence of the room was broken by the teacher, who said:
"Bennie St. Clair, Pearl Boblit, and Carl McKenzie
may come and say their lesson." At the mention of the
new name every eye was turned on Carl, and he keenly
felt the gaze. When he attempted to rise he seemed
fastened to his seat. Just as the tears began to fill his
eyes he looked at Bess; she gave him an encouraging
smile and a pleasant nod; then the anchorage to the
seat was loosened, and he advanced with the other boys
to the knees of the teacher. Mr. Tracy met all the boys

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 23

with a smile, placed a gentle hand on Carl's head, and
said:

"We are glad you are going to be in our class."
"So am I" said Carl; I think school is real nice."
This was spoken in a clear tone, and caused a smile all
over the room. The teacher then took Carl's book, and
opening to the alphabet, began by pointing to the letters
and saying, "A," "B, " "C, " etc., and all the boys repeated
after him. After going up and down the column several
times in this way, Carl said, "Mr. Teacher, I know
all those, " and before the teacher could reply, Carl began,
and repeated them, both downward and upward, faster
than the teacher could follow with his pencil. Mr. Tracy
smiled, and then took Bennie's book McGuffey's Speller
and opening it, pointed to the first word at the top,
turning the book toward Bennie, who said "B A;" and
the teacher said, "ba; " "b a," said Bennie. "B a spells
bah," said Carl; "thats, what the sheep say. My father
said so, and he knows." This speech brought the whole
school in sympathy with the teacher, and disgusted with
Carl. Mr. Tracy simply said, "Well, we will continue to
say our lesson; " and so the pencil traveled over ba, be,
bi, bo, bu -the teacher saying them first and the boys
after him. When the first line was finished Carl said:
"Ba-be, ba-bi, ba-bo, ba-bu. Ha! that's funny! Mr.
Teacher, what's it mean? Are we getting an education?
Father said we go to school to get an education.
Mr. Teacher, I saw a rabbit this morning coming to
school. Did you see one? I have a pet rabbit at home.
Rabbits can do something we can't they can put one ear
back and one forward, and we can't do that."

24 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

"Why do they do that, Carl?" said Mr. Tracy.

"Why, they can hear both ways, so nothing can catch
them," said Carl.

Mr. Tracy had never made this observation.

"And I have a pet tortoise, too," said Carl. ''Do you
know how tortoises talk? When mine gets hungry he
mews just like a little kitten," said Carl.

"And what does your tortoise eat?" said the teacher.

"He eats bead and milk in the \vinter-time. He can't
lap his milk like a dog, but just puts his under jaw into
it and then raises his head and lets it run down.
In the summer-time he catches flies and crickets.
Would you like me to tell you how he gets on top of
his box in the chimney-corner? I set the box, you
know, right close to the jamb, and he puts his hind legs
against the jamb and his forelegs on the slats of the box
and goes up, tail first, till he gets as high as the box,
and then he lets go and flops right over on top of the
box. Say, Mr. Teacher, did you ever see two toads
fight?"

As Mr. Tracy had never observed a pugilistic combat
of this kind, he thought it well to close the recitation
and hear the next class; so the boys were dismissed and
sent to their seats.

Carl sat down and clasped his hands around one knee,
which he slightly elevated above the other, and began
again to take in his surroundings. He looked at the teach-
er admiringly for some time, and then watched the other
pupils. It was a real workshop. All seemed to be
busy; every eye seemed riveted upon book or slate, and
every lip was moving. Carl could not understand the

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 25

moving lips. His mother had never allowed him to
move his lips while studying. He also observed that
many of them often seemed to count their fingers, and
this he could not understand. He wanted to do just as
the others did, but he could not make out just what the
others were doing. So, in his anxiety and innocence, and
with no thought of interruption, he said:

"Mr. Teacher, what are they all doing with their lips
and their fingers?"

"Never mind, Carl," said Mr. Tracy; "you study your
lesson."

Carl sat in silence some time, and then the big
tears began to come; and jumping down from his seat he
ran to Mr. Tracy and sobbed: "But I don't know what
you mean by 'study your lesson,' where is my lesson?"

And the teacher remembered that he had not assigned
the child a lesson, and had said nothing about what it was
to study. Borrowing a speller from Bess, he turned to
the page of ba, be, etc., and told Carl to say those over
and over until he knew them all.

Carl went to his seat, and for a time seemed happy in
conning over the lesson.

Recess came, and Carl found a seat on the teacher's lap.

"What made you send me that candy?" said Carl.

"Oh, because I thought you would like it most boys
do."

"How often do you give them candy?"

"Once a year," said Mr. Tracy.

"I'll make you a sugar egg when sugar-making
comes," said Carl. "Why don't all trees have sweet
water, so we could have oak sugar, and poplar sugar,

26 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

and pine sugar?" Carl put his hand in his pocket
and pulled out some wintergreen leaves, and said:
"Do you like wintergreen? The berries are so fine
just now. Father and I were on the hill yesterday, and
gathered these. Father showed me the flowers last May;
they are so white I mean the corolla; that's what father
calls it corolla, and calyx, and stamens, and pistils-
such queer names, but I can spell them, every one. I wish
I had a flower now to tear to pieces and look at don't
you? You could tell me something about it could'nt
you and would that be education? Say, isn't the
laurels just beautiful when they get in bloom. The
flowers are white and rose, you know, and they are poison
too but then we wouldn't eat them, not for anything; if
we did they would kill us, sure. You know the corolla
is monopetalous I can' t spell that long word, but I know
how to say it and the flowers have just lots of honey.
Bees don't get that honey the cup's too deep but the
humming-birds do. Oh say, Mr. Teacher, did you ever
see a humming-bird's nest? It's just the cutest thing
Father and I found one on a beech tree, and I cried be-
cause he wouldn't let me take /?/.?/ one of the little eggs to
show mother: but when father went to town, mother
and I went over the hill, and she climbed up and saw
them and that's our secret."

Mr. Tracy said: "Well, Carl, it is time for books."
Again the familiar rap was heard on the weather-board-
ing, the ball was pocketed, the bat laid aside, and the
big girls put away their knitting and gave up their seats
around the stove. The teacher opened the stove-door,
d the coals forward, put in some more wood, and

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 27

walked slowly to his desk. He sat longer than usual
before calling his classes. The pupils noticed that he
seemed to be dreaming. At last he aroused himself,
assumed his naturally pleasant and cheerful air, and
called the boys again Ben, Pearl, and Carl. It was the
same old routine. All work stopped for a moment when
Carl's time came to recite, and all eyes were turned
upon him, to see what the boy might say this time; but
Carl took his turn and said his letters, and then let his
little mind wander away to his pets. The lesson
was over and he was seated again, arid nothing occurred
of special interest to him until the last class before
noon was called this was the big spelling-class; they
formed a line along one side of the room, and when one
missed, the other spelled and went up. Carl noticed
that Bess was at the foot of the class, and he felt much
humiliated; but one time after another she went up
(Carl's interest in the spelling and the pride in his
sister increasing as she neared the upper end of the line),
and when on the very last word of the lesson she went
head, Carl could no longer control his excitement,
but ran across the room, and putting both arms around
her neck, kissed her, much to the discomfiture of Bess
and to the amusement of both pupils and teacher.

The class numbered the next lesson was assigned
the class dismissed books laid aside and the noon-
hour was on.

Carl and the teacher had a long walk and talk at
noon. As they turned the angle at the jutting of the
hill road, Carl caught a glimpse of the smoke curling
up from the chimney of his cabin home. The sun was

28 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

shining warm, and not a breath of air was stirring; it was
one of those perfect winter days which our weather
prophets call "the weather-breeders." The sight of
home was too much for Carl. He pointed to the smoke
and said: "I wonder how my pets are; I expect they
would like to see me pretty well, don't you? and I guess
I'd like to see them, too?"

"You may go home if you wish, Carl," said Mr. Tracy.

"May I? Let me kiss you I like you real well; you
don't seem away off, do you? Have I got enough educa-
tion for one day? I'll tell father and mother all about
ba, be, bi won't that be nice? And I'll tell mother
how easy it is to whisper my lesson and count my fingers;
but I couldn't count }^s and %s, and ^s on my fingers-
but you needn't tell me how now, for I believe I'd like
to get home pretty soon; but I love you lots. How many
things school-teachers must know! Does it make you
tired to know so many things? I'd think it would; I'm
real tired with just a half day of it. But I like it;
ba, be, bi isn't that funny? I'm going to say it real
fast to Bunnie, and sse if he won't go to sleep."

Mr. Tracy took Carl up in his arms, kissed him, and
said:

"You have taught me a lesson too, Carl. I am
the gainer to-day; so, my little fellow, good-bye, and
come back again to-morrow."

Carl said "Good-byee, " and was soon out of sight down
the road.

Mr. Tracy folded his arms behind him and walked
slowly back to the school-house. The pupils noticed
that Carl was not with him, and made many conject-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 2Q

uras as to what had happened to him, but Mr. Tracy
explained at once to Bess that Carl had wanted to go
home, and he had thought best to let him go.

When John Tracy lay down to sleep that night, he made
the same choice that Solomon had made centuries before.
He poured out his love to the Heavenly Father, and
asked for wisdom; his responsibility had dawned upon
him. He began to see that an education did not con-
sist in the dull routine of text-book recitations, and he
firmly resolved henceforth he himself would be a stu-
dent not only of the ^jc/-book, but of the great book of
Nature. This day's experience had taught him that in
order to do this work that he had taken upon himself,
his mind must needs be a well-filled store-house from
which "To pour the fresh instructions o'er the mind,
to breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix the generous
purpose in the glowing breast." He felt keenly his
Ignorance of the most common things about him. He
likewise had a glimpse of the possibilities of the minds
he was trying to educate. With tearful eyes, in the
silence of his chamber, he said: "Thank you, Carl
McKenzie a thousand times I thank you." His soul
began to catch a glimpse of this truth, that

" If there is anything that will endure.

The eyes of God because it still is pure,

It is the spirit of a little child,
. Fresh from his hand, and therefore undefiled.

Nearer the gate of Paradise than we,

Our children breath its airs, its angels see."

CHAPTER III.

CARL'S BOYHOOD.

"So all night long the storm roared on
The morning awoke without a sun,
In tiny sperule, traced with lines
Of nature's geometric signs;
In starry flake and pellicle,
And all day the hoary meteor fell;
And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own.".

J. G. WHITTIER.

The night of the day when Carl bade good-bye to his
teacher was long known on Coe's Run as the night of
the great snow-storm. Carl never went back as a pupil
to the old log school-house.

Dr. McKenzie and his wife found many hardships
in subduing the native forest and making a home
for their children. The cares and burdens of pioneer
life were too heavy for the devoted wife and mother.
The Doctor could observe her failing strength, as well
as his own; and one day, receiving a fair offer for the
farm, they decided to sell, and the Doctor moved,
again assuming the duties of his chosen profession.

Six miles south of Coe's Run is a beautiful level
plain stretching from the hills, which rise abruptly
from the east bank of Salt Creek, to the old city of
Chillicothe, a distance of twelve miles. The plain is
from two to five miles wide, and contains some of the

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 3!

finest farms and the wealthiest farmers in Ohio. The
Baltimore & Ohio Railroad runs lengthwise through this
plain, and had just been completed to Chillicothe at this
time.

Nestled near the hills, on the east side of this plain,
was the beautiful village of Griffinsville. A more beau-
tiful location for a town or city could not have been
chosen. There was one long main street, running east
and west. The farthest house east was the M. E.
Church, and in the west part of town was the Friends'
Church. The school-house was a frame building, and
was located one-half mile east of town. Just at the
edge of a great forest, and not more than one hundred
yards farther, was a clear brook of running water, which
found its source far up in the forest, and which wended
its way some two miles farther on before it joined its
waters with those of Salt Creek.

The day on which Dr. McKenzie moved to Griffins-
ville, Carl was just eight years old. Carl rode with his
parents in the first wagon, and just as they were enter-
ing town they met some boys about Carl's size, going
fishing. As they passed the boys eyed him closely, and
Carl heard one of them say:

"By jings! he's a hill angel! We'll lick him."

And when all the teams had passed them, the boys
yelled out: "Hill angels! Hill angels!"

Carl did not know what "hill angel" meant, but some-
thing seemed to tell him that it meant trouble of some
sort for him. He wanted to ask his parents about it,
but they were busy talking, and he hoped they had not
heard it.

32 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

That evening, after supper, Carl was swinging on the
front gate, and listening to the music of a violin across
the street. Carl had never heard instrumental music of
any kind up to this time, and was delighted with the
sweet tones as they filled the quiet evening air. He
had almost forgotten the newness of his surroundings
in the keenness of his enjoyment as he listened to the
simple melody, that sounded to him the perfection of
harmony.

As he was looking arid listening, two boys came along
Zip Hammond, and Em Brown (Brown's name was
Emerson, but everybody called him Em).

"Well, cap, what's you doin' ?" said Zip, knocking off
Carl's cap as he spoke.

Carl made no effort to pick up his cap did not seem
angry, but simply held on to the gate, and eyed the boys.
Zip said:

"Let's see how much there is of him. Say, lad,
what's your name?"

Carl looked at him sidewise, and then turned his face
again in the direction of the music, without saying a
word. The boys, who were both several years older than
Carl, were much amused at his peculiar manner, and re-
traced their steps until they stood one on either side of
the gate. Carl looked first at one and then at the
other, and finally said to Zip:

"Mister, won't you please pick up my hat and put it
on my head?"

It was said so firmly and so pleasantly that Zip could
do nothing but obey; and when the hat was replaced on

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 33

his head, Carl said, 'Thank you." Then, turning his
mild blue eyes full upon Em, he said:

"What is it I hear across the road? It sounds like
the thrush, and the red-bird, and the cat-bird,, all sing-
ing at once. "

"That's a fiddle," said Em.

And Carl looked across the street again for a moment
and then said:

"Is a fiddle a bird?"

"He's a greeny !" said Zip. "My! what fun the boys' 11
have with him !"

Carl paid no attention to what Zip said, but kept his
eye steadily on Em for his answer. Just at this mo-
ment the door across the street was opened, and the
gentleman who was playing placed a chair on the porch,
sat down, crossed his legs, put his fiddle to his chin, and
began a lively air. Carl's delight was unbounded. The
boys little by little led' him into conversation; and, I
must add, before they left they were his warm friends,
and always remained such.

The winter school had closed, and there was no sum-
mer school in Griffmsville this year. Carl had a varied
experience during the summer months. He made friends
at once with the boys. He soon learned to play truant
from home, and go swimming. The boys' swimming-hole
was nearly a mile from town, it was a secluded spot-
Blue Lick running close to the side of the hill, with
massive rocks jutting out from its rugged front, and
forming almost a canopy over the swimming-hole. The
rocks were overgrown with ferns, sweet-williams, wild
pinks, and rattlesnake-root. The boys were delighted

34 BUCKEYE HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

with Carl's knowledge of these plants, as well as with the
facility with which he could name every tree and shrub,
and every kind of bird, bug, and worm. He soon learned
to swim, and became an expert at playing marbles, ball,
mumble-peg, and old sow. He could walk the top board
of a fence, or stand on his head. There were two
things, however, that Carl could not do successfully-
jump and wrestle; but he could "out-wind" all the boys
on a foot-race, and could climb to the top of a service
bush or cherry tree sooner than any other boy. All the
boys in this town seemed to know how to swear, and it
is not to be wondered at that Carl learned this habit
too. I cannot say that he never told lies to save him-
self from a whipping possibly he did. I am also inclined
to believe that a few times in his early life, he stole-
in company with other boys apples, pears, peaches, and
possibly plums, from Zimmon's orchard.

The deacons of the church organized what was known
in this town as the "Juvenile Try Company." It was a
secret society, and met once a week in the upstairs paint-
room over Wheeler's wagon-shop. It had a written ritu-
alistic initiation. Each boy was introduced into the
room blindfolded. The chief of the society possessed a
magic lantern a thing none of the boys had ever seen
until initiated; the boy was brought to face a large
screen, and then in the darkened room his mask was re-
moved, and he gradually saw the evolution of a picture.
The first one was that -of a boy hanging head-downward
from an apple tree, the seat of his pants caught on a
snag of the limb, a bull-dog with open mouth ready to
catch him, and the red apples dropping from his pockets.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 35

The object of this picture was to teach the evils of
stealing. I fear it would not be right for me to divulge
any more of the secrets, for this society may still be in
existence. Every boy pledged himself not to swear, lie,
steal, skate on Sunday, play truant, smoke old cigar-
stumps picked up off Brown's corner. The temptations
to break these pledges came thick and fast, and before
a month every boy had become a criminal Carl with
the rest; but doubtless this society did much good, and
the boys made better men for having belonged.

Carl made one acquaintance in this town which I must
not fail to mention. It was that of old Aunt Amy Snow.
She was tall, swarthy, bony, and walked with a limp,
owing to a fever-sore on her ankie. She lived all alone,
washed for a living, and was the universal favorite of
the boys, not one of them but would fight for her. She
lived in a log-house containing but one room, on one
side of which was a large fire-place. The furniture con-
sisted of a bed in one corner, a table, and an old tool-
chest, a dresser containing some old dishes, a few chairs,
a large rifle on hooks over the door, an ancestral clock,
and various articles of clothing hung on wooden pins
around the wall. Here, night after night, the boys would
meet to parch corn and listen to the blood-curdling
ghost and murder stories told by Aunt Amy. I am not
allowed to say whether the boys ever brought dressed
chickens, eggs, sweet potatoes, or anything of the kind,
to test Aunt Amy's culinary ability; but I can say that
many a boy's hair stood on end as he went home alone,
on dark nights, from these corn-poppings.

Poor old Aunt Amy Snow passed away. One mornin

36 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

no smoke was seen to ascend from her chimney; the cil
izens hurried in. The coroner's jury said, "Died ol
heart-disease." Every boy in that town attended the
funeral, and they placed on the plain casket a wreath of
flowers with these words, "Our Aunty."

Notwithstanding Dr. McKenzie entered at once into
a large practice, he still found time for many a ramble
in the woods with Carl, and Fido always accompanied
them on such occasions. The Doctor was also fond of
angling, and taking little Carl behind him as he rode on
Zack, they were often seen on their way over the hill to
Salt Creek; nor did they return empty-handed.

During all these rambles the Doctor never failed to im-
press some lesson, to point out some beauty in nature, or
to impart some moral lesson in the mind of his boy. He
often said: "Carl, you must always be look, look, looking,
and think, think, thinking."

In that day there was much drunkenness in Griffins-
ville. There were two taverns, and both of them sold
liquors. Every Saturday, every election-day, every legal
holiday, meant plenty of drinks and plenty of fights.
Carl witnessed many a hard fist-fight; at first he was
much frightened, but soon became accustomed to such
scenes. Many a time he secretly untied old Funger's
neglected horse, and let him go home to his provender,
while old Funger was dead-drunk in Brown's stable.

At last the hot summer months had passed away, and
the cool breezes from North Land began to paint the
maple leaves. The poplar and sassafras changed their
hues, and the sumach was dressed in royal robes. The

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 37

dog-wood berries were turning red, and the chestnut burrs
showed signs of opening.

Autumn's earliest frost has given

"To the woods below
Hues of beauty, such as heaven
Lendeth to its own."

The blackbirds gathered in flocks; the catbird and
thrush had gone; the quails were no more seen in pairs
by the road-side, but went whirring past in great flocks;
the rabbits were more timid, and darted across the road
and disappeared in the tall grass of the fence-corner.

'The melancholy days had come
The saddestof the year."

The school board had already employed their teacher
for the coming year by name Simeon R. Smiley. Mr.
Smiley was a gentleman about fifty years of age. He stood
six feet two, was slender but muscular; long arms, and
but little beard on the cheeks; keen gray eyes, and a large
hawk-bill nose. He had once been afflicted with
catarrh, and hence had a nasal twang in his speech. He
opened school on the second Monday in September, with
at least sixty pupils in attendance, and among the num-
ber Carl McKenzie.

A long list of rules was read, and at the close of the
reading the pupils who would agree to obey them were
asked to stand. All stood except Carl. The teacher
looked at him over his glasses a minute, and then remov-
ing his glasses said:

"So I have one boy who does not expect to obey me,
have I?"

Carl immediately arose and said:

"Mr. Teacher, I intend to obey you; but I did not

38 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

know the meapning of nearly all you read, and I thought
I would be telling you a lie if I stood up."

'The boy means well," said Mr. Smiley; "all be
seated."

The larger pupils were all seated in comfortable
desks placed near the walls. On three sides of
the room the smaller boys and girls formed three
sides of an inside square, sealed on benches
without backs the benches were too high for most of
their feet to touch the floor. Carl read with the first-
reader class; and for some reason it was deathly still
in the room the first time he read possibly because he
was a new boy, or possibly because he had been taught
expression, and knew the meaning of what he read.

The teacher compelled this class, as he did all the
classes in reading, to stop and count at each grammat-
ical pause one at a comma, two at a semi-colon, etc.

Carl had an experience the second day of this term.
He was still in possession of one of his baby-teeth, but
it was very loose at least, seemingly so. Dear reader,
you have had loose teeth too I know you have. While
the big arithmetic class was reciting, Neal Johnson pre-
vailed on Carl to tie a string around the tooth and let
him jerk it out; just as the string was firmly tied
around the tooth, and Carl was handing the loose end
to Neal, Mr. Smiley turned and smiled. He walked
leisurely back to where Carl sat, took hold of the end
of the string, and led Carl to the door-knob. Fasten-
ing the end firmly to the knob, he brandished his stick
as though he would strike Carl in the face, and the
tooth came out. Carl never recalled this incident in

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 39

after life without feelings of the deepest indignation.
How few there are who know how to temper absolute
authority with deeds of kindness and charity.

Carl's second experience with Mr. Smiley was brought
about by an incident in town. An artist taking daguer-
reotypes came to Griffinsville. Carl and Charley Dum-
mond immediately set up a gallery in McKenzie's
wood-shed, and took pictures for the boys, using poke-
berry juice for paint so many marbles, ginger-cakes,
etc., would pay for a picture. The boys did a thriving
business. In fact, they had so much to do they got
behind in filling orders, so on Tuesday afternoon at
recess they quietly crept along the old rail-fence toward
town, entered the alley, slipped along to the door, and
entering the wood-shed, quietly went to work. All next
day nothing was said by the teacher of the truancy;
when time to dismiss for the evening, Carl and Charley
remained. To their honor, be it said, they confessed
the whole matter, and told no, lies. The teacher asked
them to remove their waistcoats, and with a keen hick-
ory he marked the boys. When he was through, he
said :

"Do you boys think you will play truant again?'
p Charles immediately answered: "No, teacher, I won't."

"What have you to say, Carl McKenzie?" said Mr.
Smiley.

"Nothing, sir; I suppose I deserved this whipping,
and if you will excuse me I am ready to go home."

"But will you promise to not truant again?"

"No, sir; I shall not promise."

The teacher dismissed Charles and retained Carl.

4<3 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

"Now, sir, why will you not promise to not truant
again?"

"Because I may decide to do so, and I do not wish to

I- ii
ic.

"I shall tell your father, Carl, and unless you do bet-
ter, I shall have to whip you again severely."

"Oh, I shall tell father all about it as soon as I get
home; and I guess I'll show him my knees, too," said
Carl.

"Your knees? What do you mean?"

Carl rolled up his pants, and just above each
knee it was black and blue where Mr. Smiley had struck
him as he passed, almost hourly, inside the little square.

"The knees of all the boys who sit on the small
benches are this way," said Carl.

"Well, you should study more and not be looking off
your book. "

"Does one have to look on the book to study? I
studied how I could paint a sunflower yesterday
when I truanted, and I didn't have an)' book.
When you came around this afternoon the last time
and struck me, I had just finished drawing a
saw-buck, and a boy sawing, and w r as about to say I'd
give it to you if you wanted it."

"I shall teach you something besides making pictures,
my lad;" and so saying, he dismissed Carl.

Carl told his father all about the circumstance; the
Doctor simply said: "I am sorry, Carl, you have had
trouble with your teacher."

A few evenings after, Mr. Smiley and Dr. McKenzie
met in the road.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 4!

"Good evening, Doctor," said Mr. Smiley.

"Good evening, sir," said the Doctor.

"I would like to speak a word to you about Carl."

"Very well, sir; say on," said the Doctor.

"Carl does not seem to care much for his lessons; I
suppose you know he played truant. He seems listless,
and wants to look out of the window. I scarcely know
what to do for him."

"I am very sorry, Mr. Smiley, that my son is causing
you trouble. I intend that he shall be both obedient
and attentive. I find it difficult to answer his questions
and to satisfy his great desire to know. When I take
him to the woods he is all animation and enthusiasm;
when he comes to my office with his reader or slate and
pencil, I find him all attention he was so delighted
when I showed him how he could multiply with two
numbers, first by units and then by tens, that the boy
actually cried for joy. He often asks me about his
pronouns that is, whether he must say I and you, or
you and I; whether he shall say Bess and me, or Bess
and I. Last week he asked me how big this county is,
and if it has a fence clear around it; and I took the
opportunity to teach him a lesson in geography. I
think, Mr. Smiley, if you study Carl, and find the best
and brightest side to him, you will find him not stupid
and listless, but all energy and animation. Take a walk
with him and tell him about the flowers and the trees,
talk with him, about his pets, show him that you are
interested in the things which interest him, and then
by the strength of this mutual sympathy you may lead
him to an interest in the things which interest you, but

42 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

at times seem very dull to him. I fear sometimes you'
teachers confine yourselves too closely to your text-
books, and seldom stop to study the peculiarities of
the little minds you are to mould and fashion, and to
make better, as well as wiser. The ox dies, but the man
lives forever. The ox may be driven, lashed if need be,
not cruelly; man must be led. My boy, if he lives to
ripened manhood, must stay here sixty years or more,
and I want him to love this great world of ours. God
is the Author of this world, and He made it exceedingly
beautiful. I want Carl to see this beauty, and to look
on through this loveliness and grandeur to the Author
of it all. I would have him inspired with a love of
Nature, of God, and of Libert}^, so that with an ever-
increasing intelligence and love, he may be able to do
bravely his part in the mazy industries of the arts and
sciences of human life. I desire my son to do right.
The highest civilization this world will ever know lies
veiled in that grandest of human precepts, the Golden
Rule; I would have him live it. I would have him
attain that perfected culture of heart and mind, which
is to purify and bless and glorify the earth. As the
years roll on, and the bells of time shall ring for Carl,
I would not have them sound with clash and clang and
loud alarm, but sweetly and joyfully, as falls a bless-
ing from heaven. The blessed little innocent children
here flitting to and fro are earth's angels; let us bC
careful that no word or act of ours shall in any way
plant in them the germ of the demon: "Pardon me, Mr.
Smiley I am keeping you standing too long. Call at
my home and spend an evening with me."

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 43

"Thank you; I shall be glad to do so". And both said
good evening.

Mr. Smiley stood a little time after the Doctor had
left him, trying to realize what he had done, or what
he had not done, that was amiss. While he felt that he

had not impressed the Doctor, as he desired, with a
sense of Carl's remissness, he was painfull}- aware that
he had. never experienced a more uncomfortable feeling
of dissatisfaction with himself.

That evening Carl came into his father's office for
some assistance in his number-work; and after receiving
it, he threw himself down on a buffalo-robe on the floor.
Soon after, Esquire Calver dropped in for a bottle of
cough syrup; and so one after another came until the
Doctor had half a dozen visitors. Carl was apparently
asleep. Their conversation turned on school matters

"Say, Drummond, I understand the teacher licked
your boy yisterday and Doc's too. They say the old
fellow pops it to 'em like fun. Darn my skin! if ever
I got but one lickin' in my life, an' I didn' t deserve that"
said John Nagle.

"This school matter is a kind of failure anyhow,"
said Bill Buffington. I tell my young uns just so they
learn how to read and write and cifer, that's all I care
about 'em a knowin'."

"Well, when my boy gets licked at school, I give him
another' n when he gets home, said Billy Simpson. If
a boy needs iickin', lick him."

"Our taxes is too high, and we pay too much to a set
of lazy stuck-up, big-headed, dispeptic. hypocritic, penu-
rious gad-wielders and it eld Smiley ever licks one of

44 EUCKEYF-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

my boys, I'll turn that old hawk-bill nose of his'n t'other
side up by toady! I will as sure as my name's Pete
Bell," (Bell never owned any property, and never paid
a cent of tax.)

"I never went to school but three months in my life, and
I've got along purty well," said Sam Gillespie (he owned a
large farm); and there's Daddy Whetstun, that lives in
the big brick he's worth thousands and thousands and
I've hear'n him say he never went to school a day in
his life. He sent his son, Sol to Yale that's som'ers
in the East and now Sol's home, foolin' the old man's
money all away on patent-rights. They do say this man
Smiley licks the little fellers and lets the big uns go.
My children never says anything to me about school
nor. me to them; and I wouldn't know the master if I'd
see him. I expect they're larnin sumthin, leastwise I
pay lots of tax."

"I give my boy Jim a pointer, last evenin', on how
to fix old Smiley Christmas if he don't treat. My Jim's
a sharper! he gets his lessons and has half his time left
for fun. One mornin' last week he shot a big rat: I
seed him wipe the blood off nice and clean and stick
that rat in his pocket. Said I, 'Jim, what cussidness are
you up to now' you sneaker?" Never mins, pap, said he;
I'm just a carryin' off the dead rat to keep it from the
cat. If the cats can fin' them a layin' around dead they
wont'hunt 'em, you know!' Well, Jim asked to go out
just before the girls' recess, and he just put that rat
on the door-step, and come in just before old Smiley
said, Girls recess! Sal Jones was the first to open the
door. She screamed and cleared the step and half

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 45

dozen more right after her. You may bet it was a lively
time for a little while. And that noon a comin' home
from school! old Smiley said to Jim, said he, 'Jim, you
are a good boy, and allers have your lessons/ said he,
you find out who put that rat on the step, and, says he,
I'll give you a dollar.

Jim said it was mighty mean in anybody to do it, and
he'd find the villian if he could, and tell on him pro-
vided old Smiley would promise not to keep him to see
the lickin'."

Dr. McKenzie had remained silent during all the
conversation, but he could not refrain longer from speak-
ing: "My friends, I have nothing to say either for or
against Mr. Smiley. I have always found him pleasant
and gentlemanly when I have met him. Only a few hours
since I invited him to come to my home and spend an
evening with us, I fear as parents we are all wrong. The
teacher has many trials, cares, and duties that we know
nothing of. They need our words of sympathy. They take
the children from all kinds of homes from the families
of the vicious and the cultured and try to produce or-
der and symmetry out of the conglomeration. There are
as many tastes and dispositions as there are pupils in any
one school. It takes some time for even the shrewdest
mind to acquaint itself with all these various disposi-
tions. We ought to retain our teachers longer. We
ought to have ten months of school, instead of six. We put
our children six months in the school and six months
on the street to learn its vices how can we hope for
good results. We ought to pay our teachers higher wages,
and then see to it that they are men and women of the

46 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

highest culture and refinement men and women \vho
know how to develop in every child the power and incli-
nation to make conscience in the boy or girl regal in life.
Education is not so much memorizing, nor yet the
growth of mental ability; it is the developing of the
soul and mind. In this free land of ours we need strong,
stalwart minds. There are perils ahead, in state, in
church, in society, in commerce. We need developed
minds, that they may be able to successfully cope with
the mighty problems before us. We need training
schools, in which our teachers may be taught the science
of mind development. There is nothing so dear to me
as the public school. I am a poor man, but in the pub-
lic school I see a future for each of my boys and girls-
a fortune of which the sharp schemer cannot deprive them;
they may lose everything else in this life, but they can
never lose themselves themselves they must take with
them through eternity. I want to see in our school-teach-
ers those who are mind-builders, and character-build
ers, who are lovers of nature, of God, and of
humanity, and who have the power to impress the
nobility, the purity, and loftiness of their own
lives and high ideals upon the lives of the
children. Let us visit our school, hold up the hands oi
the teacher, ask him to eat with us, talk to our children
of school, assist them when we can in their lessons, and
we will soon have charity for the teacher and a love
for the school; and the result will of necessity be ad-
vantageous to the schools, to the teachers, and helpful
to the children; but we ourselves will find our own
ideas broadened, our better natures strengthened, and

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 47

our power for usefulness increased by this very effort."

The Doctor noticed Mr. Calver looking earnestly
toward the corner of the office, and looking around, he
saw Carl sitting up, with both hands clasped around
his knees; and as the Doctor finished his last sentence,
Carl said:

"Father, may I be a teacher?"

"Nothing would please me better, Carl, "said the Doc-
tor. "It is the noblest calling on earth. Jesus, who was
humanity at its climax, was the great teacher."

"Doctor, I thank you for this firm expression of your
views," said Mr. Calver, extending his hand. "I am
in full sympathy with you."

Pete Bell had a dazed look. The truths that the Doctor
had uttered were beyond his comprehension, yet the
earnestness with which they had been spoken, and his
respect for the Doctor, caused them to make an impres-
sion on him which he did not understand. Billy Simpson
began to think that it might be that more was needed
than abliity to read, to write, and to cipher, and that
there were duties for him other than that of repeating
at home his licking at school. They all bade the Doc-
tor good evening, and passed out to their several homes.
Every man in that little company thought long and seri-
ously of the office talk. The power for good thus ren-
dered can only be measured by eternity.

CHAPTER IV.

CARL AND DORA.

11 They sat together, a little pair, in an old hull by the sea
She was a maiden with curly hair, and a bright brave boy was he,
'In the skipper,' he cries, 'and you're my wife; and over the sea we go:'
He cut the rope with his little knife, and away over the sea they go."

Mr. Smiley closed his school in March, and was offered
and accepted a position as ticket agent at a station on
the B. & O. R.R.

The same month that school closed, Dr. McKenzie was
elected a member of the school board. The next autumn
the school board employed Milton Phillips, who re-
mained as teacher in the village, year after year, until the
breaking out of the rebellion.

Mr. Phillips was a young man, peculiarly fitted for
his work. Nature had done much for him: he possessed
a fine physique, and stood six feet three in his stockings ;
he weighed two hundred pounds, and had a high, intellect-
ual forehead. His large, mild blue eyes beamed from
an open, cheerful countenance. He was a thorough schol-
ar as well as student, and always met his patrons with a
warm shake of the hand. He was frank, open, and free
with his pupils. He was a first-class batter, and was
often seen on the playground with the boys.

Mr. Phillips was Carl's ideal, and not only Carl's, but
nearly every pupil who came under his influence had

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 49

the same respect and love foi- him. Day after day, as
the various sessions would open, and Mr. Phillips took
his position at his desk, the countenance of every pupil
beamed with delight. The evil-inclined pupil had no
chance here the enthusiasm of the whole school was
against him ; the dull pupil found just that kind sym-
pathy he had been needing all his life, to wake him
up from his dreaming. As his eye would meet that of
his teacher, he would feel a glow of intellectual enthu-
siasm reaching to the depths of his soul.

Mr. Phillips changed the manner of reading from the
drawling, lifeless monotone to clear, accurate, expressive
reading. This was easily done when the pupil under-
stood the meaning, comprehended the sentences, and
entered into the emotions of the author. There was no
holding up of hands, and saying: "Teacher, John mis-
pronounced this word," or he hesitated, or he let his voice
fall, or he didn't stop at a comma, or, last of all, he
repeated. One was called upon to read as he under-
stood the author's meaning. If another one thought he
meant differently, he was allowed to read and so express
it. It was always a delight to hear his classes read.

Mr. Phillips also introduced Stoddard's intellectual
arithmetic into his school, and Carl never forgot the
fine mental drill he received in the study of this book.

Carl's parents noticed with great pleasure the inti-
macy between their son and Mr. Phillips, and the Doctor
frequently allowed Carl the horse and carriage that he
might drive with Mr. Phillips into the country. During
these drives every bush, and tree, and rock, and bird had
its lesson.

50 SUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

Notwithstanding all these influences thrown around
Carl McKenzie, he was still human, like other boys-; he
had also that keen boy-sense of honor which always re-
sents insult, and which takes the part of the weaker
party in contest. Late in the autumn of Mr. Phillips'
second year as teacher at Griffmsville, one Mike
McCrane moved to town. He had a son named John,
who was ten years old; physically he was the very ideal
of health and strength. He showed his lack of manli-
ness, however, by his habit of bullying the smaller boys.

It was not long before he had an opportunity to test
his strength. He cowardly slapped Lem Dixon, a little
boy but seven years old. Lem's brother immediately
took it up, marked a line on the sidewalk, and asked
McCrane to step over. McCrane began to pull his
coat, and then, chuckling to himself, put it on again,
saying, "I can lick you with it on, " and so he did. Step-
ping over the line he made a feint with his right, and
instantly followed it with a lefter on Dixon's nose that
sent him bleeding to the ground. Dixon could not be
induced to come to the line again, and as the fight had
been a fair one, none of the other boys cared to take it up.

Carl had witnessed the whole proceedings and heard
the reprimand the following morning from Mr. Phillips.
When Mr. Phillips pointed out the evils and cruelty of
fighting, Carl thought he never would fight under any
circumstances; and still his little soul bubbled up in
spite of him, and he felt that somebody ought to lick
that boy. McCrane became more and more arrogant
every day. He had had several fights with the boys, and
they always resulted in a victory for McCrane.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 5!

One evening Carl came upon Zip and Em standing
close together and talking in an undertone. "Hallo,
boys," said Carl, "what is it?"

"Shall we tell him?" said Zip.

'Yes; Carl's a good fellow, and maybe we will need
him to help us out," said Em.

"Well, here it is," said Zip. "You know yesterday
morning when Mr. Phillips opened the lid of his desk he
found it full of rotten eggs. You remember how sick the
smell made him, and how the girls all gagged, and how
little May Simpson threw up on the floor; and you
know what a time we had, and how you volunteered to
carry them all out, because it didn't make you sick-
you had been with the Doctor so much, and was used to
smelling nasty medicines and other things. Well, we
boys think we can prove that McCrane was the fellow
what put them eggs in that desk."

"What's your proof, boys?" said Carl.

"Well, you see," continued Zip, "as Em was a bringing
his old cow home night before last, from pasture, she
turned up the alley past McCrane' s old barn, and, as
Em came along, he smelled something, and as he kind
o' leaned his head against the barn, he heard John say-
ing to hisseif, 'By Jehu, I'll git even with him, thanks
to the old hen.' And as I was coming home night be-
fore last with a string of sunfish from Old Salty, I saw
McCrane sneakin' along the fence close to the school
house. Now, a puttin' things together, I think this is
'prima fisha' evidence, as lawyers say eh?"

"Mr. Phillips shall know about it at once," said Carl,
"and I'll tell him. I don't, believe in telling on other

52 EUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

boys, for little things; but that was against us all
against the whole school, and done by a cowardly
sneak. "

And so it was settled that Carl should be informant,
and Zip and Em chief witnesses. Just after the boys
separated (it was already dusk), Zip saw McCrane
on a run; saw him cross and /across the street, so as
to be in advance of Carl. They at once took in the sit-
uation. McCrane had heard their conversation and had
determined to waylay Carl. They at once climbed the
fence, ran around back of Faust's barn, and slipped
along the alley fence, just as Carl and John came face
to face.

"And so I am a cowardly sneak, am I?" said John.

"Yes, you are," said Carl, "and I'm not afraid of you,
either, if you are larger than I am. I suppose you heard
all that Zip and Em and I said, and that shows again
that you are a sneak; and you thought you'd lick me
when we were all alone, and scare me out of it. You can
lick me if you want to, but I'm going to tell Mr. Phil-
lips, anyway."

"If you say that agin, that you're agoin' to tell on me,
I'll stick your head into the mud, right here and now."

"I said 'I'll tell him,' and 1 will," said Carl.

The words were scarcely out, when McCrane made
at him, but just then four strong hands grasped him,
and both Em and Zip said: "Hold on, sir, hold on; we'll
have a hand in this business. Now, McCrane, since you
want to fight Carl, you shall have the opportunity; but it
must be in daylight, in the presence of the other boys. If
you are not a coward and a sneak, you meet Carl to-mor-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 53

row (Saturday), at ten o'clock, at the brook back of the
school-house; we'll need plenty of water to wash the
blood off of Carl, and so we will meet there. We are
larger than either of you, and we will see that you have
fair play; and if you lick Carl, he shall not tell on you,
but if he licks you, you'll have to own up the whole
thing before the school next Monday morning: what do
you say?"

"All right," said McCrane; "I'll pound him to a
jelly."

Zip and Em went home with Carl, and when they
separated at the gate all the preliminaries had been
arranged. It might be supposed that Carl did not sleep
well, but he did, and when he arose in the morning he
never felt better in his life. At ten o'clock, some twen-
ty boys were under the shade of the trees on the bank
of the little brook. Lem Dixon was among them.

Zip explained the circumstance to the boys, and the
agreement made the night before. The boys agreed to
not cheer during the contest. They also agreed that
there should be no biting, scratching, or pulling of hair,
and no striking the opponent while he was down.

It is but fair to mention that Carl could use either
hand with equal dexterity, and was unusually strong in
his arms. He could chin a pole more times than any boy
he had ever met.

Both boys came to the mark Carl, with a confident,
pleasant smile, and McCrane was the first to lead out. As
was his custom, he made a feint with his right, and,
like a flash, followed it with a lefter directed toward
Carl's nose. Carl received the blow on his right arm,

54 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

and immediately planted a sounder, with his left, on Mc-
Crane'sribs. Lem Dixon started to yell, but Em put his
hand over his mouth and gave him a cuff which silenced
him. The force of the blow staggered McCrane, and it
was near a full minute before he came to the line again.
McCrane was not accustomed to fight left-handed, and
scarcely knew how to proceed, and so determined to let
Carl lead out this time, which he did by making a feint
with his left, and getting a fine one on McCrane' s nose
with his right, which sent McCrane sprawling to the
ground and bleeding profusely. McCrane showed his
pluck by coming immediately to the line. He succeed-
ed this time in getting an under-stroke on Carl's ribs,
and, glancing, hit on Carl's right eye; but Carl gave
him a second blow plump in his mouth, which again
sent him sprawling to the ground.

As McCrane came to the line the third time, it was
evident that he was thoroughly mad and would make his
most desperate effort. Carl saw the fire in his eye, and,
for the first time, his countenance was sober. McCrane
struck straight with his left this Carl dodged; McCrane
then caught him by the hair, and Carl jerked loose, leav-
ing a handful of hair in McCrane's hand. Carl said, " You
cowardly sneak," and at once went at his antagonist, caught
him by his shirt-collar with his right, and with his left
gave him half a dozen blows in quick succession. Mc-
Crane could stand it no longer, and said, "Take him
off."

There was no shouting among the boys. Lem Dixon
rolled over a few times on the ground, but did not dare
to shout. Carl assisted in washing the blood off John's

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 55

face, the boys shook hands, and all sat down on the
bank.

When Carl realized all he had done when he thought
of father, mother, and teacher when he thought of kneel-
ing at his mother's knee that night, to offer his simple
prayer, his feelings overcame him, and, placing his face
iri his hands, he wept bitterly.

Em and Zip tried to comfort him, and John too said:
"Why, Carl, it's all right, and I'll be the better for it;
and when I ask the pardon of Mr. Phillips and the
school, I'll feel like a new boy."

Carl could not rest until he had seen both father and
mother and made a clean statement of it all, and had
received their forgiving kiss.

And when his mother went with him to bed that night,
she said, "Carl, I think I had better leave you to say
your prayers alone to-night. I will close the door a
moment and then return a-nd tuck you in."

What was said in that prayer, only Carl and the
angels know. When his mother returned, he was just
rising from his knees, and his eyes were bright with
tears. She gently and snugly tucked the sheets about
her boy and took his face in her hands; Carl put both
arms around his mother's neck, and, as he drew her face
to his, he felt her warm tears on his cheek. Gently she
raised herself, loosened his arms, kissed him tenderly,
and said, "Good-night, Carl, and God bless m)^ boy."

"Good-night, mother Carl loves you;" and she left
him alone.

John McCrane was true to his pledge. He was for-
given both by the teacher and the school, the latter by a

56 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

rising vote; and just as ail were reseated, Mr. Phillips
broke out in his clear, sweet voice with:

" Let us gather up the sunbeams, lying all around our path;
Let us keep the wheat and the roses, casting out the thorns and chaff;
Let us find our sweetest comforts in the blessings of to-day,
With a patient hand removing all the briers from the way."

All, who could, attempted to sing, and every eye was
moist with tears.

The summer and autumn of 1860 had passed into
American history, showing a record of the most stir-
ring political events ever witnessed on this continent.

Four tickets were in the field, headed by Breckenridge,
who represented the Southern Democracy, Douglas, who
represented the Northern Democracy, Bell, who rep-
resented the old Whig party, and Lincoln, who repre-
sented the Republican party of the North. There were
tremendous gatherings; the most eloquent speakers of
the nation addressed the enthusiastic multitudes; pole-
raisings and barbecues were of weekly occurrence; Ran-
gers and Wide-awakes marched and counter-marched like
drilled battalions; torch-light processions illumed the
streets of the towns and cities.

The Douglas Rangers had had an immense mass-meet-
ing at the neighboring village of R, and the Wide-
awakes had decided to outdo them, in a grand demon-
stration at the same place. Wonderful and extensive
preparations had been made; all the neighboring towns
were to send delegations; massive wagons were built, some
having the weight of log cabins, others, as many young
ladies dressed^in white as there were stars on the flag,
and on still others were men splitting rails out of a
massive log borne upon the wagon.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 57

On this occasion Carl had been chosen as one of
thirty- three boys, who were to represent thirty-three
States in the Union. They were to form part of the
procession, each boy being on horseback. The boys
were all dressed in blue pants, red flannel shirts, and
white caps. Carl was unanimously chosen captain, and
wore a red scarf as the sign of his office.

Promptly at nine o'clock, with flags and streamers
flying, bands playing, horses prancing, and girls sing-
ing, the whole procession started for R, a distance of
six miles. As they marched along, they were joined
by other processions, until they presented a most im-
posing appearance,

Carl rode his father's dappled gray, and the horse
seemed as proud of his rider as the rider did of the
horse. Zack, for that was his name, would do nothing
but prance, and Carl was perfectly delighted, as the
horse, with dainty steps and arched neck, kept his place
beside the column.

At half-past ten they entered the beautiful grove of
sugar maple and walnut, on the banks of Salt Creek,
just above the mill-dam. The town of R had selected
thirty-three little girls who were dressed in skirts of
blue, white waists, and red caps. It was only natural
that the thirty-three boys and the thirty-three girls should
gather together on the grounds. There was one girl,
eight years eld, who wore a red-whke-and-blue scarf.
Carl at once recognized her as the leader of the thirty-
three girls. It was very natural that they should walk
a little way by themselves, that they should occupy two
camp-chairs under the shade of a walnut tree, and when

58 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

*^ ff

they were seated it was natural that Dora Dundore
should say: "My! isn't there just heaps of folks here?
those horrid old cannons just deafen my ears! Do you
like to hear cannon, master? There, you haven't told
me your name, and here I've been with you five min-
utes."

'You may call me Carl, if you like."

"But suppose I don't like but I do; Carl I never
heard that name before. It's a real pretty name, isn't it?"

"And what shall I call you?" said Carl.

"Me? Oh, call me Dora. How many of you folks
came here to-day?" said Dora.

"About five hundred," said Carl.

"All from Griffinsville? I was there once to an Indian
show, and I didn't think there were that many folks in
the whole town; did they all come?"

"Oh, we gathered them up along the road," said Carl.

"You mean you want some of my roses, and you shall
have them, if you will promise one thing."

"And what's that?" said Carl.

"Will you promise?"

"Not till I know what I am to do," said Carl.

"Well, you see that river there Old Salty, we call
it?" said Dora.

"Yes, I see Old Salty/'

"Well now, just down there under those bushes is our
boat, the red one; now you must promise to take me a
boat-ride after dinner, if I give you half my roses."

"Do you think I can manage it?" said Carl.

"Course you can; lots of little boys here, not near so
big as you, row all over the river, and you would look

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 59

so nice, rowing with that scarf and uniform; the folks
would all look at us; now will you promise?"

"I'm afraid I can't manage the boat," said Carl.

"You area little coward," said Dora; "I don't like you
half so well as I did; I'm going away now."

"Not till I have my roses," said Carl.

"You sha'n't have one 'less you promise," said Dora.

"I'll promise," said Carl; "that is, I'll promise to try."

"All right then, here is your roses; come around after
dinner and we'll sail."

Carl wandered around with the boys, looked at the
cannon, the big wagons, saw them raise the pole and run
up the flag, and joined in the cheering. He staid a
little while at the stand to hear the speaker, and then
wandered off to where the band-boys were, and wished
in his heart that he was the drummer-boy. But all the
time there was the picture in his mind of a brown-eyed,
brown-haired, rosy-cheeked girl. And when the other
boys talked to him, they noticed that he frequently
asked, "What did you say?"

The dinner hour seemed a long way off. Carl thought,
can there be a Joshua here commanding the sun to
stand still so the speaker can get through?

At last he was beside the boat, and Dora came a
moment later. As yet there were no boats out in the
river, for most of the people were still at dinner.

Dora had gotten the key of her father; she unlocked
t'ne boat, stepped in, and told Carl to pull the chain in
after him. As Carl stepped in and the boat moved out
from the shore, he almost toppled over. He soon re-
gained his equilibrium and seated himself cautiously, ex-

60 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

amined the oars, placed them in their sockets, and pulled
for the opposite bank. He succeeded in reaching it,
but noticed that he had drifted considerably down the
stream. They pulled a few wild honeysuckles, watched
the people on the opposite shore, ate candy-kisses taken
from Carl's pocket, and read the verses they contained.
All the time they were slowly drifting down the stream.
Presently Dora said, "O Carl ! See how near we are to
the dam! Do take me back!" Carl for the first time
realized his danger. Taking hold of the oars, he
worked manfully, but he soon saw they must go over.

At this moment their danger was observed by the
people on the shore and a great shout of alarm went up.
Everybody ran frantically to the river's brink.

"Lie down flat in the boat, Dora," said Carl ; "I am a
good swimmer, and I'll get you out all right." He suc-
ceeded in turning the boat's prow at right angles with
the dam, just at the moment it went over. It shot like
an arrow down the decline, rose arid sank, rose and sank
again, then whirled round and round, and then with a
mighty plunge, it went end first entirely out of sight.
Scream after scream went up from the shore. Men
turned pale and women fainted.

Two boys with blue pants and red blouses were seen
half way to where the boat went down. A moment later
and the boat appeared in sight, fully twenty yards below
where it went down. A single arm was seen to clasp
the side of the boat just where the oars were fastened.
It was the right arm of Carl McKenzie; with the other
arm he was clinging firmly to Dora Dundore. A moment
later, Em and Zip had reached the boat, and, in a few

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 6l

moments more, all were landed safely. Dora had done
just as Carl had told her to do, and just as they went
over the dam he had placed his left arm around her, and
had taken a firm hold of the iron fastenings of the
boat.

Dora was soon resuscitated, and a change of clothing
was found for the boys. As Carl rode home that even-
ing, his noble horse seemed to realize that his arm lacked
the strength of the morning, and, but for the bowing of
his neck, he might have been taken for a farm-horse.

It is not strange that Carl and Dora both dreamed of
tairy-land and falling cataracts that night.

CHAPTER V.

THE SPELLING-SCHOOL.

Carl did not see Dora Dundore again for a little more
than three years, and then by mere accident.

Among the joyful gatherings of olden times, the
"spellin' -school" was chief; 'wood-choppin'," "corn-
huskin'," "log-rollin'," and "apple-peealin' bees were
the more substantial. The big stir-off at the sugar
camp was sweeter, but nothing equaled the "spell in' -
school," in social eclat and intellectual grandeur.

To "spell good," was the chief concern of an "educa-
tion." . '

These were the days of the Rs, when school-masters
taught Readin', 'Ritin', 'Rithmetic, and the Rod.

In those days the principal branch was birch, and all
scholars were supposed to take it.

At noon and night the "little class," the "middle
class," and the "big class," all spelt for head, and prizes
and honors were lavished upon those who could stand
at the head most of the time.

Fridays were always expected to close with a match,
or a general "spell-down." The students were arranged
in a circle around the room, and when one missed he
was seated, and so on, until none were left standing.
The teacher stood in the midst of the group aud pro-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 63

nounced the words and was supposed to be like the
living creatures in the bock of Revelations, having eyes
both before and behind; for those having fallen in the
first round would soon tire of Vhearin' the master give
out to the rest," and would devise various schemes of
entertainment.

Sometimes, having chosen up and arranged on two sides
of the house, they would "draw over" those that missed,
until one side or the other would be entirely destroyed.
This was lively, as it gave all a chance to continue to
the end, and permitted the big boys and big girls to be
together, as those who missed had to cross over and be
seated by the side of the successful speller.

A kaleidoscope could hardly furnish a larger number
of changes than would be possible at one of these grand
entertainments.

Some students in every school could boast that they
had spelt, "Webster's Elementary clean through, with-
out missin' a word." But having performed such a feat
one winter, would not make it certain that it could be
done a year from that time.

All the accomplishments in the spelling art were the
results of memory. They got it "by heart," but it did
not stay "by heart."

They knew nothing of analogy, orthoepy, or orthogra-
phy, though they could spell every word from "baker"
to "incomprehensibility."

They scarcely knew the meaning of one word out of
twenty, and it is not much better in some of our district
schools yet.

They thoroughly mastered such catch words as daguer-

64 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

reotype, phthisic, ptisan, hautboy, vignette, and belles-
lettres; they knew how to compare, impair, prepare,
and repair, but they knew nothing of any rules for those
pairs, or how to pare a pear, for no two seemed to pair
off; they only knew that one set "spelt (i one way, and
the other was ' 'spelt t'other" way.

When they got over to "grammar," they learned that
the customary fare, was different from the beautiful fair,
but why they should both fare alike, neither student nor
teacher ever knew. The whole of the art was in packing
the words into the mind and retaining them, remem-
bering each word by itself and for itself.

Spelling was not for use, but a training for the prize-
ring.

I fear the absurdity of the past has given way to the
other extreme of neglected orthography. The world nowa-
days tolerates and fondles a superficial refinement that
cuts pie with a fork, though it spells God with a small
g, or County with a K.

The contest which I am about to describe in this chap-
ter occurred at what was known as "Whisky Run school -
house." It was the first district down the river, from
the town of R. Carl was visiting, at the time, a
friend over at Yorkville. The boys thought it would be
a rare treat to visit the school, and they decided to start
early, and go over the hill past "Salt Peter Caves."

When they arrived, they found a great crowd, and also
learned that the "spellin' was a match contest between
the town of R, on one side represented by six spellers,
and one speller each from the following: viz. Pigeon
Creek, Higby's Ford, Brimstone Holler, Tweeds' Point,

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 65

Mud Run, and Whisky Run. Carl's friend, much
against Carl's judgment, plead for Griffinsville to be
represented by one member, and the judges and spellers
finally consented, and Carl was introduced. Before time
to begin, the house was ful 1 , and the yard was full. In
those good old times everything was neglected for these
contests. The honor not only of the family was at
stake, but of the whole neighborhood as well.

And on this particular occasion, if gambling had been
indulged in anything larger than penknives or cheap,
open-faced watches, it would be hard to guess the num-
ber that would have been left bankrupt.

In order to perfect fairness it was agreed that the
teacher from Vigo, James Burke, should pronounce for
the evening, or if he should need rest in the meantime,
Tom Sigler, from Yankytown, should take*his place.

As was customary the "spellin' ' began at early candle-
lightin'." The contestants were arranged in this man-
ner: the six district schools on the north side, the town
of R, on the south side, and Carl in the center between
them.

Dora Dundore had not recognized Carl until the light
fell full in his face as he took his place. When she
recognized him, somehow she felt a dizziness come over
her, and she felt that she would most certainly miss the
first word.

After the fiftieth round there was still on the floor, Jim
Stunkard, Jake Frump, Isabella Lamasters, Susan Cra-
ble, Carl, and Dora.

The pronunciation had been a little peculiar and many
were the complaints on the part of the friends there who

66 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

had been disgraced by the first rounds, and they were
of the opinion that the town teacher was no good in
giving out to the folks in the "Kentry." But there was
no opportunity for loud swearing. They were down and
it could not be helped, and the districts still represented
depended upon their representatives to maintain the
honor of the country districts.

Now the words went faster. Full a hundred rounds
and still the six were on the floor. The room was warm
and the interest was up to white heat. Mr. Burke be-
came hoarse and Mr. Sigler had to relieve him. The
people called for "hard spellin' in order that the con-
test might end before midnight. Finally Isabella went
down on "flagitious" using a "c" in place of a "t" though
she affirmed she was right according to her book. Mr.
Sigler now pronounced the word air, the atmosphere,
which was correctly spelled and then came "are" the
plural of "is," which was missed by Jake, as he had
always heard it pronounced as the preceding word.
There was general dissatisfaction at this calamity, for
Jake was known as one of the best spellers in the coun-
try, and to be sent to his seat on so little a word, of
only three letters, was regarded as a disgrace to Brim-
stone Holler. The remaining four held their places
for twenty more rounds. It was decided to resort to
geography; and so they began with Equator, Quito,
&c., to Buenos Ayres, which sent all to their seats,
save Carl and Dora.

They were the youngest of the contestants, and it
might have been heard whispered around, "them's
trumps." The excitement rose high, for though the dis-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 67

tricts had been defeated by the town of R, all the coun-
try people immediately became Carl's friends. No
jockey-race' ever produced such intense excitement; the
people involuntarily rose in their seats, and once, when
Carl seemed to hesitate for a moment, they leaned for-
ward with eyes and mouth wide open and held their
breath. The long, green and black, navy tobacco lay
unpressed in the cheek. Carl up to this time had not
recognized his opponent. The word Niagara was pro-
nounced to her, and, as she seemed to hesitate, he
looked her full in the face, and actually sank into the
seat behind him. At this instant there was an occur-
rence at the door which gave them both time to recover
themselves.

The Walkers and Smiths had been at misunderstand-
ings for a long time, and they had been thrown together
that night by accident and were having a kind of "your' e
another" conversation out of doors. Finally, Bill Walker
struck Harvey Smith, who thought he might be shot, as
he bumped up against the door and the fire flew out of
his eyes; and concluding he would be dead in a few
moments, he gathered himself into a heap on the door-
step and began to pray for the Lord to have mercy on
him. His voice was recognized by his sisters who were
on the inside and who ran to the door screaming that
their brother was killed. The stampede was general;
the rush for the door was such that everything was in
a general confusion and no one could either get in or
out. Windows were thrown up and many of the }^oung
men were hustled out to protect the innocent, and pun-
ish the guilty. But Walker had fled and could nowhere

68 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

be found. Smith had a fairly good-sized "Fourth of
July" over his right eye.

The fight now being over, nothing remained but to return
and see the spelling through. Some of the young "bloods"
were so disappointed that it seemed that they must have
a row; however, things quieted down, at least on the sur-
face, and the spelling began. During the commotion
outside, Carl and Dora had fully recognized each other
and renewed their acquaintance.

Dora said: "I am to spell Niagara, and had you
thought that only one of us must go over the falls to-
night and down below the chilly waters, and that to
rise no more, surely Carl you will not be so cruel as to
send Dora all alone down the awful precipice to the
foaming, seething vortex below! '

"I cannot relinquish the oars, now, Dora, we are too
near the brink. If you will jump overboard, how am I to
save you? But here they come and we must collect our-
selves for the contest." 'The last word," said Mr. Sig-
ler, "was Niagara; will Miss Dora spell?" The word was
spelled correctly. Finally geographical names were laid
aside, and Webster's Academic Dictionary was taken up.
Such words as the following were selected: till, until,
tyranny, annual, Koran, unbiased, basin, beaux, bayed,
bade. At last the word corolla was missed by Dora and
immediately snatched up by Carl. The judges awarded
him the prize, but he immediately presented it to Dora,
saying, "you have fairly won it. I was a mere accident
in the contest." After congratulations Carl walked with
Dora to the cnrringe, and, while her father untied the
horses, Carl assisted her to her seat and, as her hand

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 69

lingered in his, he raised it to his lips and was gone.

As Carl and his friend wended their way over the hill
that night, Carl seemed to be dreaming; usually so talk-
ative, he was now sc silent.

"Are you ill, Carl?" said his friend.

"Oh, it's only my throat. I shall be all right to-
morrow. "

Will the realm of infinite futurity ever be able to add
a sweeter sensation than the purity and dreaming felic-
ity of early love? It is not earth-like. It is born from
above.

CHAPTER VI.

CARL AT HIGH-SCHOOL.

" Build to-day, then, strong and sure.

With a firm and ample base,
And ascending and secure

Shall to-morrow find its place.

Thus alone can we attain

To those turrets, where the eye
Sees the unreal as one vast Plain

And one boundless reach or sky."

LONGFELLOW.

The spring of '61 found in Griffinsville, as in every
voting precinct of the Northern States, a recruiting
officer. Carl felt that he was losing all his best friends
with the first call for three years' men; both Carl's
orothers and Mr. Phillips entered the field; Em and Zip
both went as drummer boys Em as tenor, Zip as bass.

Carl went with them to the depot, and was the last to
take their hands as they stepped aboard the cars for
Camp Chase. The scenes of excitement throughout the
land at this time have been told by more eloquent pens
than mine, and I will not attempt to recall them in
this narrative; suffice it to say, that Carl entered into
it all with a burning enthusiasm. Every day he read
with increased interest the thrilling accounts in the
Daily Gazette.

He wrote letters full of home news and excited
questionings to the boys, and received replies, describ-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

ing camp and field, march and battles. From the many
letters still in Carl's possession, I select one for my
reader:

"MURFREESBORO, January i, 1862.

"DEAR CARL: Last night I had charge of our advance
picket line, and the Johnnies were right in front of us.
As I was placing my men, the Sergeant of the rebel guard
said 'Hello, Yank.'

"I said, 'Hello yourself, Johnnie.'

"He was advancing toward me, and I met him half-
way. We shook hands and talked a few minutes, and,
as we separated, we agreed to meet again after we had
completed our rounds. It was a beautful moonlight
night. I took the precaution to place Bill Hudson
behind a clump of bushes, near to where we were to
meet, with instructions to keep a sharp lookout.

"Johnnie and I met according to agreement, and had
been talking about the war for some ten minutes, when
suddenly we were both startled by the report of Bill
Hudson's rifle. At the same moment Johnnie threw up
his hands saying, 'My God! he has shot my brother!'

"He asked me to go with him, and I did so; and sure
enough, a few rods down the hill, we found the lifeless
corpse of his brother, with a bullet hole in his forehead.
With water from my canteen I washed away the blood,
and, seeing that I could do nothing more, left the
brothers alone.

"When I returned to Bill, he said, that just after we
began to talk, he noticed the Johnnie slipping up, and,
just as he was drawing bead on me, Bill fired, with the

result given.'

"Your brother, DICK."

72 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

Carl regretted keenly that he was not old enough to
participate in these scenes of danger and excitement.
'Twas not only patriotism and love for his country and
flag that thrilled every fiber of his loyal soul, but he had
all a boy's love of change and adventure; and of all
things he desired most to go to the front. For four
years he accomplished but ilittle in the school. His
interest and attention were drawn from school and school-
life by this excitement of his surroundings. The teach-
ers who followed Mr. Phillips were not so good as he
had been, although Carl attended as a regular pupil
whenever school was in session, and of course made
some progress in all his studies; his chief advancement
was made in United States history and the geography
of the Southern States. Carl built man}'' a fort and in
his imagination fought many a battle during this time.

In after life, Carl always had an enthusiastic history
class, and the place where every great event occurred
was always pointed out again and again, until thorough-
ly implanted in the memory. He also drew, and had
his class draw rough sketches of the forts and battle-
grounds.

I might mention here that the platforms of political
parties were always discussed by the class. No great
political event was allowed to pass without a thorough
investigation, and every pupil was not only allowed, but
was encouraged, to express fully his or her views on
the great questions of American history.

At last the great war was over, and the tented field
and the shock of battle became events of history. The
26th Regiment O. V. V. I. were mustered out at Camp

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL -MASTER 73

Chase. Two days more and Dick and Will took their
seats at the McKenzie table. Carl's old teacher re-
turned to his home in Pennsylvania, where he was after-
ward given the chair of mathematics in an Eastern
college.

Poor Zip was taken prisoner and was never heard of
afterward. Em came safely back to his home, and is
now in business in Columbus, Ohio.

Carl's parents decided to send him away to school. He
was not far enough advanced to enter a first-class college,
and they wisely decided to send him to some good high-
school, where the academic studies could be pursued.
He was therefore sent to Moon's Academy.

This institution contained about one hundred students ;
was located in the Miami valley, in a quaker village
which was surrounded by a class of wealthy farmers.
Prof. Moon, who presided over the school, was one of
the kindest of men. He was one of the few men before
whom you could not stand without the impression that
you were in the presence of one of nature's noblemen.
He had that dignified nobility of character, which always
commands respect, as well as that tenderness of heart
and gentleness of manner that invariably won the love of
his pupils.

As an instructor he was enthusiastic and practical.

The various boarding-places of the boys were designa-
ted as barracks. Carl was located in Barrack No. 6.
There was not the college hazing here that is found in
the College proper, yet the boys always liked an im-
pressive introduction to a new student. Carl's room-
mate was a boy named Nolder. He was a quiet sort of

74 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

fellow, but was a lad of good principles and fine native
ability, and for many years the warmest friendship ex-
isted between the boys.

On the second evening after Carl's arrival, one young
man from each of the barracks was chosen as a select
committee to introduce Carl and his room-mate to all
the boys. Just after dark Carl heard a rap at his door,
and upon opening it five young men entered. One of
the boys, named Ousley, acted as spokesman and intro-
duced the others; they were all introduced under the title
of "Chief." Himself, Chief Ousley, and then each chief
in turn was presented to Carl and Nolder. Just as he
had finished this ceremony, a sixth party entered with-
out knocking. He was immediately introduced as Chief
of Barrack No. 6. Carl began to take in the situation
and was exceedingly amused.

Chief of No. 6 said in a commanding tone, "all the
gentlemen belonging to Barrack No. 6 are commanded,
by the Most High Executive Council of this Barrack, to
assemble in the double room of the third floor of this
Barrack, at once. Thereupon, Freshmen McKenzie and
Nolder, you will at once follow your Chief." Carl said,
"Come on, Nolder, let's follow our leader." All the boys
of No. 6 were assembled in the upper room; they were
chatting and laughing, and paid no attention to the par-
ties entering until called to order by the Chief, who
said, "Gentlemen of Barrack No. 6, I have the great
pleasure of introducing to you Carl McKenzie, who will
begin the entertainment this evening by singing us a
song. Mr. McKenzie, will you please mount the box?"
Carl knew there was only one thing to do and that was
to sing, so he mounted the box and began:

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 75

"One night as the moon was a beaming,
I lay fast asleep and a dreaming,
That the sun was shining bright,
In the middle of the night,
And the boys had collected
For to have a little fight."

He sang the entire song. Nolder was then required to
mount the box and sing as Carl had been obliged to do.
Then each was to declaim. Afterward it was politely
suggested that they engage in a debate, choosing 'their
own subject.

After a moment's consultation, Carl and Nolder chose
this question: "Resolved, that the high-toned Chiefs
Nos. i to 6, inclusive, are a set of asses." Carl affirmed,
Nolder negatived. Before Carl had finished, they knew
something of his keen perceptive faculties, and his gift
of sarcastic language; they declined to hear the nega-
tive.

Chief Ousley then advanced, and took from his inside
pocket what seemed to be a tallow candle and asked
Carl to take a bite. Carl did so, without hesitation.
His quick eye had recognized, in the candle, a piece of
"sweet gum." Nolder followed suit, and then all the
boys took a chew from the same candle. The mysteries
of the order were explained, the two boys were welcomed
as members, and all adjourned to their several rooms.

In his studies Carl's tastes inclined to the natural
sciences, but he excelled only in mathematics, and he
always attributed his success in this line to the excel-
lent drill he had received in the Intellectual Arithmetic.
He was not naturally possessed of superior reasoning
powers, but his mind had been so strengthened and
developed by his early and thorough training, that he

76 BUCKEVE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

easily to ;>k and held first rank in those studies which
taxed the reason and judgment.

Prof. Moon was a master in elocution, not that rant-
ing, gesticulating, ridiculously absurd performance we ,so
often see to-day; but he was clear in enunciation,
forcible in expression, accurate in emphasis and pronun-
ciation. And while imitative reading may not be the
best, and is not, yet his pupils caught from him the
spirit of good reading and always left his school with
improved articulation, and better readers.

Carl graduated fifth in his class of twenty-five, and
after returning home took a trip with his friend Nolder
to Niagara, to Albany, then down the Hudson to New
York City, Washington, and then home. This little trip
added much to his knowledge of our natural scenery,
and gave him an idea of the world about him outside
the little circle in which he had always moved.

When Carl returned from his eastern trip he found
nearly all the schools in the immediate vicinity of his
home had been taken, and he felt the keenest disappoint-
ment, for his whole nature had been aglow with the en-
thusiasm of beginning his chosen ideal of life work.

He believed that he would inaugurate a new era in the
world's history of education, and gain for himself undy-
ing fame, could he but have an opportunity to try his
skill in a country school. A friend of Carl's, who had
been visiting near Centerville, told him of a vacancy in
a school in that neighborhood. Early next morning Carl
set out on horseback, in search of the school.

The average price paid teachers in Clinton Co., at that
time, was forty-five dollars per month. As Carl rode

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 77

along he decided he could afford to teach his first term
for thirty-five dollars, and would, therefore, ask that
price.

When Carl was about ten miles from home he over-
took on the road a farmer dressed in blue shirt, brown
overalls, and white straw hat. He was sitting sideways
on an old bay mare, and whistling, "Paddle your own
Canoe. "

Carl rode up and said: "Good morning, sir."

"Howdy," said the farmer. "You seem to be a stranger
in these parts," continued the farmer.

"Yes, sir," said Carl; "I am looking for a school; do
you know of any vacancies near here?"

"Well, now," said the farmer, "I do that; our own school
is vacant and we want a teacher."

"What wages do you pay?" said Carl.

''Well, we paid forty-five dollars last year."

"I will take your school at thirty-five dollars, as I have
never taught," said Carl.

"Your never having taught makes no difference to us;
the gentleman we had last year had never taught, and he
gave us a good school. Forty-five dollars is the price we
pay, and, if you are our man, that is what we will pay you. "

By this time they were at the cross-roads.

"Now," said the farmer, "my name is George Dronen; I
live right there," pointing to his house a few rods down
the road, to the right. "I am the president of the
board; the other two men are Samuel Thompson and
Solomon Moorman. You see them and, if they are willing
to hire you, tell them I am too. I hope you can get back
to my house by dinner time."

78 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

Carl left with an anxious heart; he saw the other
directors, arranged a meeting at Mr. Dronen's for half
past one, and got back in time to eat dinner with the
farmer.

Mr. Moorman and Mr. Thompson were on hand prompt-
ly at half-past one, and a contract was soon signed, and
Carl arranged to board with Mr. Dronen.

As specified in the contract the school was to open
the second Monday in September.

"Now," said Mr. Moorman, "we are all through except
the rules and regulations; we might just as well arrange
those at this meeting."

"Do you think it necessary to have a set of written
rules?" said Carl.

'Yes, sir," said Mr. Moorman, "by all means. A ship
without a rudder is likely to be lost, especially with an
inexperienced pilot."

Carl thought best not to object further, so the rules
were soon drawn up and signed by the board and Carl,
much against Carl's better judgment. But after all,
the rules bore fruit, and produced what was afterward
known in that community as the "Revival."

The sixth rule read as follows:

"All pupils over sixteen years of age shall be ex-
pelled from school for unruly conduct unless they
voluntarily choose to accept such punishment as the
teacher shall decree."

CHAPTER VII.

THE REVIVAL.

The revival was not a religious revival, but one of
quite a different kind, as will appear further on.

The pupils who attended during the autumn term
were all small children except a few of the larger girls.

Nothing unusual happened during those months. As
winter drew on, "and the frost was on the pumpkin, and
the corn was in the shock," the big boys began to enter
the school, and the enrollment reached fifty-seven.
There were three of the pupils over twenty-one, who
could attend only by permission of the board; but this
was granted, as those young men promised not to make
any trouble, and were not to call on the teacher for assist-
ance only when they got "stuck" in arithmetic.

The school was so crowded that Carl often found it to
his advantage to call on one or another of these three
young men to assist him in his work, and then he often
remained after school-hours to assist them in their work.
They appreciated his kindness in doing this and a friend-
ship arose between them.

Their assistance in the revival far more than repaid
Carl for his extra trouble.

The names of these three boys, were George Fisher,
Tom McFadden and James Hodson. Government in a

8O BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

country school of sixty pupils, to one without experience,
is no easy matter. One fellow named Tom Wright made
his boast that he could lick the master and that he would
do it if he ever undertook to thrash him. Carl de-
termined to he master in fact as well as in name. He
attempted to whip Tom, who resisted, but whose courage
failed him, and Carl succeeded in giving him a severe
and much-needed whipping. This occurrence established
Carl's authority.

One of the rules, above mentioned, was to the effect that
there should be no boisterous playing in the school-room,
during noon or recess. This rule was adopted to protect
windows and furniture, and the board insisted on its
observance.

Carl was invited to Mr. Wright's for dinner one day,
not because of any great affection the family had for
Carl, but that he might compute the interest on a
promissory note of five hundred dollars, on which there
were many indorsements. Carl accomplished this task
and came back in time to call school by one o'clock.

As Carl neared the school-house he heard the "sound
of revelry," and closer examination showed a broken
window pane, a shattered desk, and snow-besprinkled

floor.

Carl called the roll as usual, and then said; "I am sur-
prised to find so many of my large pupils disregarding
one of the rules, by playing in the school-house."

George Fisher held up his hand and then arose and
said, "I for one am to blame for this, and I ask your
pardon." Several other large boys and some of the
girls arose and made similar confessions.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 8l

Carl said: "I am willing to forgive each of you, since
you are so frank about the matter. All who are sorry
will arise." All arose but three bo.ys near the door.

"Did you violate the rules, Thcmas Moore?" said
Carl.

I played in the house," said Thomas, "but I'm not
sorry; I don't see any sense in such a rule, and I don't
want your pardon; if you don't want me here, turn me

1 1

out.

"I say the same," said Bill Moore.

"So do I," chimed in Tom Wright.

"This rule is not of my making, " said Carl; "you may
think the matter over for one hour, and then ask pardon
or stand suspended." At the end of the hour they all
arose, took their books, and passed out. That evening
after school, Fisher remained for some assistance in
arithmetic.

Carl said: "What do you think about my expelling the
boys?"

"It is just what they wanted. Tom Wright has not
felt so happy since you gave him such a decent whip-
ping."

"What will come of this, George?" said Carl.

"That's hard to tell; nothing ought to come of it,
but the fools are not all dead yet," said George.

Next day more than a dozen of the pupils were absent,
and the falling off continued from day to day until fully
one-half the seats were vacant.

Carl had another talk with Fisher. "A storm is brew-
ing, " said George, "and it promises to be a regular twister.
My opinion is that there will be some fighting before
6

82 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

this thing is over with. As I told you, the fools are
not all dead yet."

"George, you are my friend, as I truly believe, and
you are three years my senior; shall I resign?"

"No, do not resign," said George, "that is just what
they want you to do. Either rowdyism or civility is
going to rule in this neighborhood, and I believe now is
the time, and you are the man, to lead the better ele-
ment to victory."

"I shall not resign, at least not until after I am vindi-
cated," said Carl.

That evening Carl requested Mr. Dronen to call a
meeting of the board, and have the matter sifted to the
bottom.

Mr. Dronen informed him that a meeting of the entire
voting population had been arranged for the next day, at
one o'clock, at the school-house.

Carl informed Mr. Dronen that he was amenable to
the board alone. "Certainly," said Mr. Dronen, "the
board will act as court. We wish to give every one an
opportunity to enter complaint. We shall hear the
charges and your defense, and then decide according to
law and testimony."

"That suits me exactly," said Carl; "I want to meet
my enemies face to face."

Mr. Dronen continued; "The feeling against you, Mr.
McKenzie, is bad. Old man Collins is excited because
you scratched Brad's face in trying to button his coat
when you were about to whip him. He is rather hard
to manage when he is angry and will give us trouble.
Wright and Moore are mad and blame .you wholly for

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 83

their boys being expelled. Wright usually gives more
thought to his hogs than to his children, but he is
thoroughly aroused now. Moore is spoiling for a fight.
He is a rough man and thinks fighting is the only way
to settle a difficulty; he will be hard to manage."

"How do Mr. Moorman and Mr. Thompson stand in the
matter?" said Carl.

"They are both against you; Thompson is vacillating
and goes with the current, which is just now against you.
I am surprised that Mr. Moorman has gone over to the
other side; he has always been your friend; and George
Fisher, who boards with Moorman, is a warm friend of
yours. I think Moorman has been deceived by false
statements, and I am certain if we can get him to see
the facts in the case he will be for you with all his
might."

Before sleeping that night, Carl had decided in his
own mind two things; first, that Mr. Dronen was his only
friend on the board, and second, that after making his
vindications he would immediately resign and return
home. Having so decided, Carl packed his valise and
made out his report, ready to be handed in with his res-
ignation.

When school opened the next morning nearly all the
pupils were in attendance, except the three boys who
had been expelled. It was evident that many of them
did not come to study. This, in their minds, was the
last day. Some were insolent, and some seemed to be
sad.

During the noon-hour Carl took a stroll with his true
friends, George Fisher, Tom McFadden, and James Hod-

84 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

son. They passed around Bernard Point and were soon
out of sight.

"Now," said Fisher, "we will tell you what we want.
There promises to be a warm time this afternoon. As
I said before, the 'fools are not all dead;' Moore is
furiously mad, and says the only way to settle this fuss
is to fight it out. He says he will thrash you before
night. Dan Hopper is another one of the fools. He
swears he will cowhide you unless you get down on your
knees and beg for mercy. Now, we three have pledged
ourselves to stand by you; we take no pride in being
classed as fighting men, but we are going to see fair
play. Their talk simply amounts to nothing, but, the
moment they attempt more than that, we shall interfere.-
Go ahead, make your defense, and say what you want to
say and have no fears. You do the talking and we'll do
the fighting if any has to be done."

Carl thanked them for their proffered assistance, but
expressed the hope that it would not be needed

When Carl and the boys returned to the school-house
they found that quite a crowd had gathered. The board
was holding a council at the back of the house. D ronen
was calm and composed; Moorman was excited, and while
he talked he gesticulated wildly with both arms.
Thompson was nodding his little head and saying, as
Moorman rattled on "That's so, exactly; that's my
mind."

By the time to call school, most of the district was
there. Old man Collins looked like he would burst with
rage; Mocre was walking around with his hands in his
pockets and was like the army in Flanders; Dan Hopper

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 85

had his black-snake under his arm and tried to look
fierce as a lion.

When all were quiet, Carl said to the board: "Gentle-
men, the school is now in your hands; proceed in any
manner it suits you."

Mr. Dronen then stated to the patrons of the school,
that, as there had been much dissatisfation in regard to
the management of the school, the board was now ready
to hear any complaints that any one had to make, and
that after complaints had been made, the teacher would
be heard in defense of his cause, and that it would be
their duty as directors to judge according to the law and
testimony.

Moorman blurted out, 'That's what we come fur; " and
Thompson nodded his little head.

Old man Collins was on his feet in a moment. He was
a fat man and wheezed when he talked.

"I have a charge to make," said Collins, "for the man-
ner in which my boy was lick licked. I don't object to
the lick lickin'," wheezed Collins, "mind that; but he
wanted Brad to button his coat, and Brad wouldn't, and
the teacher scratched h i s face; there' s the boy, and there' s
the scratches ahem. I know you will decide that the
whole thing of makin' the boy button his coat was wrong. "
Moorman nodded his head ; and Thompson did the same.

Carl arose, and stated that it had been customary, in
schools where he had attended, to have pupils button
their coats when punished.

Collins jumped up and wheezed out: "I don't keer
what they do in other places; I want my boy licked as
he is when he does the mischief. If his coat is buttoned,

86 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

it's to stay buttoned; if unbuttoned, it's to stay unbut-
toned. Take things as they are, what is your vardict?"

Carl said, "Hold on, Mr. Collins."

"I don't see no use in holdin' on," Collins replied. "Do
you deny the facts? "

Carl still remained standing, and this so irritated Col-
lins that .he again wheezed out: 'Do you deny the facts?
Say yes or no, or own up that you are beat. "

Mr. Dronen said: "Be seated, Mr. Collins, and let the
teacher make his statement; that is fair; he has not inter-
rupted you and you must not interrupt him."

Collins sat down. At heart he was a good man, and he
knew that Mr. Dronen was right, and he had judgment
enough to see that he had been too hasty.

Carl called William Collins forward and asked if he
was present when his brother Brad was whipped. He
said he was. Carl asked him to state to the directors
whether Brad's coat was buttoned or unbuttoned, when
he did the mischief. He answered: "His coat was but-
toned; when he was called to be whipped, he unbuttoned
it."

Collins sprang to his feet once more, saying, "I'm
wrong, men, I'm wrong; I have acted like a fool. I
should have inquired into this matter before I made com-
plaint. I withdraw the charge against the teacher."

After a moment's pause, Mr. Dronen said : "If there are
any other complaints, let them be presented." There
was a painful silence for a few moments; the termination
of Collins' affair had somewhat dampened the fires of
resentment, but the burning was too great to be put out
by that little shower.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 87

Mr. Wright broke the silence by saying: "Our boys
have been turned outen the school fur doin' nothin.' If
they'd been licked I'd a made no complaint, but this
turnin'out business I object to. I think this school ought
to be stopped right now, and this teacher run off; them's
my sentiments."

"Has any one else any complaint to offer?" said Mr.
Dronen.

Moore sprang to his feet and roared out: 'Yes, sir, I
have. I say that any teacher who has a rule about turnin'
out big boys is a cowardly puppy; let him lick 'em or
get licked; nothin' but lickin' some one will ever settle
this fuss. Let that smooth-faced coward give me
any of his sass and I'll lick him quicker than you can
say rats. If he ain't put out of this school before the
sun sets, somebody' 11 git a skinned nose."

Mr. Dronen asked if any one else had anything to
say, and, when no one responded, he nodded to Carl, who
came forward and said: "I shall pay no attention to the
threats just made. There is a saying that those who
are born in the woods are not to be scared by an
owl."

"I'll slap the man's mouth who calls me an owl," roar-
ed Moore; at the same time, springing to his feet and
drawing off h'is coat, he took a step toward Carl; but
George Fisher arose before him and Moore stopped; the
two men eyed each other for a minute and not a word
was said.

Moore was not a coward, but his courage did not run
away with his discretion. He knew that he was no
match for Fisher. Finally, Moore said: "George, what

88 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

does this mean? are you here for a fight?" The response
came with great firmness:

"No, Mr. Moore, I'm here to prevent a fight, not to
engage in one; you and I have afways been friends, but
you can't touch the teacher until you pass over me.
There are others here who feel as I do, and before you
can whip the teacher you must whip us. We want no
quarrel with you or any one else; we will have fair play
and will defend our friend."

Mr. Dronen said, "Men, be seated." Fisher sat down
and Moore followed his example.

Mr. Dronen continued: "I am not only president of the
school-board but Justice of the Peace; and if any man
in this audience makes any more threats I will put him
under arrest. The teacher has the floor." Carl briefly
reviewed all the circumstances connected with the
affair, and showed not only the board, but all present,
that in suspending the boys he had done only that which
he was under contract to do enforce the rules made by
the board.

The board immediately retired and in a few minutes
returned, Mr. Dronen saying, "I am glad to inform
you that we have no trouble in agreeing on this decision.
We sustain the teacher in the course he has pursued. We
could not do otherwise without condemning ourselves,
for he has gone according to the rules we signed with
him." Moorman nodded, followed by nods from Thomp-
son.

Carl said: "I thank you for my vindication; and now I
believe it is best for all parties concerned that I tender
my resignation; and here it is, together with my report."

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 89

This caused the impulsive nature of Moorman to take
fire, and he sprang to his feet and dancing about the
platform exclaimed: |For heaven's sake, men, let's
don't let the teacher go;'what a set of fools we've been ;
if we wasn't so ignorant, we'd a knowed better; let's
try and do better; let's turn over a new leaf; I've done
wrong, so have all of us; let's forgive and forget; I believe
all the scholars like the teacher and want him to stay;
let's have all come up and shake hands with the teach-
er; ain't that all right, Squire?"

Mr. Collins said: "I second the motion, Squire; I done
wrong and I want to forgive and forgit too. I want my
children to shake hands with the teacher to show- that
they have nothing against him. Hadn't we better all
stand up, Squire?"

Mr. Dronen nodded, and all arose. Moorman cried
out: "Come on, children, come on! ' Brad Collins was
the first to reach Carl and grasp his hand; Brad was
crying audibly. Crying as well as laughing is catching,
and in a moment the whole school was crowding around-
Carl, anxious to grasp his hand.

All came forward except the three boys who had been
expelled. They stood back by the door and showed no
disposition to go with the others. All eyes turned to
them ; there was silence for a few moments, save the sob-
bing from the girls. This was too much for Moorman.
Again he broke forth. "For heaven's sake, boys, do come,
it will do you good; come, do come." Thomas Moore,
who stood nearest the aisle, looked at the other boys and
then started, and the others followed.

Moorman clapped his hands and shouted, "Glory to

go BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

God!' Mr. Dronen said, "Good for you, boys." Thomp-
son said, "That's right."

When the three boys reached Carl and felt his warm
grasp they broke down completely. Mr. Dronen said:
"My children shall not go ahead of me;" and, suiting
the action to the word, he walked up and heartily shook
Carl's hand. Moorman followed the example. Mr. Col-
lins, with his kindly face flushed with excitement, came
up and said, with much difficulty for want of breath: "I
hope never to be so hot-headed again; I've learnt a
lesson I'll never forgit."

One after another of the men came up and grasped
Carl's hand. There was no holding back from the "Re-
vival," as the boys afterward called this general hand-
shaking. It seemed to have laid hold upon all present.
When all had shaken hands with Carl and had again
been seated, Mr. Dronen said: "That, as all were recon-
ciled and the past buried, he hoped the teacher would re-
main. "

He proposed that all who wanted Carl to remain and
finish the school shouM rise to their feet. Every one
arose. Carl consented to remain. He finished his first
school without another jar, and also without producing
any great revolutions in the system of education.

He was tendered the same school the next year, at
fifty dollars per month, but declined the offer for a posi-
tion nearer home.

CHAPTER VIII

CARL THE BUCKEYE-HAWKEYEo

" Thus, duties rising out of good possessed,
And prudent caution needful to avert
Impending evil, equally require,
That the whole people should be taught and trained,

"Earth's universal frame should feel the effect;
Even till the smallest rock,
Beaten by lonely billows, hear the songs
Of humanized society; and bloom
With civil arts, that send their fragrance forth,
A graceful tribute to all-ruling Heaven.

" From culture unexclusively bestowed,
Expect these mighty issues; from the pains
And faithful care of unambitious schools,
Instructing simple childhood's ready ear,
Hence look for these magnificent results."

WORDSWORTH.

There was nothing of especial interest in Carl's life,
for several years following the events narrated in the
last chapter. He taught six months each year, in the
district schools, and, as an evidence of his marked suc-
cess, it may be truly said that in every instance he was
offered the same school again and also at an increased
salary. Carl always took the precaution to visit his
school house, and put it in order before the opening of
the term. He saw that the floor and windows were
clean and that the stove was blackened; that he had a
new broom and a clean water-pail; that his blackboard
was newly painted; that the apparatus, if there was any,

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

which belonged to the district, was always in the best of
order; that the seats were arranged, and all the old
papers and other rubbish were removed from the desks.

He possessed two thermometers, one he placed in the
northwest corner, and the other in the southeast corner.
He picked up the rubbish from off the playground and
burned it. His own desk was looked after and was always
adorned on the first morning with a bouquet of flowers.
These flowers formed the basis of an after-dinner talk,
during which he always gained the hearts of a majority
of his school, on the very first day. After talking of the
flowers in general for a few minutes, he would select
some special kind, and give to each member of the
school one of this kind. Then, taking one himself, Carl
would dissect it and show them the various parts, writ-
ing the names of each on the board, etc. In this way
he met his school, around one common center, and wove
with them a web of fraternal feelings: In these informal
talks he reached the hearts of every one, and they helped
him to form his estimate of their dispositions, their
likes and dislikes. Carl believed that there was a key to
unlock the heart and affections of every boy and girl;
that there was some key that would unlock and open,
to vigorous activity and self-exertion, the most sluggish
intellect. And each year's experience only deepened
this conviction.

The talks about plants and flowers were followed by
other talks. Sometimes they talked of the animals with
which the children were familiar; sometimes of the
rocks, the sea, the sky, or the earth beneath their feet,
always having a care to not carry the lesson beyond the

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 93

point where the pupils were interested. And further on
we will see him, Carl, as principal of the high-school,
still farther stimulate the zeal of the boys and girls
under his care, in the work.

Carl, in all his experience, both in the district and
graded schools, never allowed himself to be carried away
by hobbies. He believed it to be the duty of the teach-
er to teach reading, writing, arithmetic, etc., by the most
approved and best established methods. He was a con-
stant reader of his School Journal. And he read Page
the first term he ever taught. He read and studied, care-
fully, Wickersham, Johonnot, Phelps, and others.

Carl always took a hand on the playground, and there
was always an entire lack of profanity and vulgarism in
his presence. One day during his second term of school,
as he and some of the larger boys were engaged in a
game of ball, one of the boys swore at the pitcher, and
then, recalling himself, turned and walked up to Carl
and said, "Mr. McKenzie, I beg your pardon, sir; I for-
got your presence." Carl replied, "I freely forgive you,
James, but there is One greater than either of us, here;
He, too, is offended." This gentle reminder of the pres-
ence of the Heavenly Father bore fruit in after years.

Carl possessed a strong love for truth and a burning
desire to know not only what the Heavenly Father had
revealed in nature around him, but what the great world
had thought and done; and this desire and enthusiasm
he burned into the hearts and consciences of his pupils.

Carl was always a favorite in the social circles. His
acquaintance with nature, with books, and with men
made his companionship most desirable. Although Carl

94 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

was not a dreamer, yet there was a poetic somberness
in his demeanor there seemed something wanting to
complete his happiness. The fact was, he carried in his
mind the picture of a lovely girl whom he had seen but
twice, once in the boat, once in the spelling-school but
they had been sufficient to command his admiration and
win his affections.

Carl's parents had moved to Highland 'County in the
fall of '65. The time of which I write was the spring

of '73-

He determined to visit his former home and see again
the mill-dam where he came so near losing his life. He
spent two whole weeks in and around Griffin sville, and
lived over again his boyhood days. He found John Mc-
Crane and Lem Dixon doing a flourishing business,
manufacturing flour.

The old school-house was gone, and a large two-story
brick occupied its place.

He visited his former cabin home on Coe's Run. The
old cabin had departed. The one landmark he recog-
nized was a lonely pine planted by his sister Jennie,
just above the spring. His brother Will was now the
owner of the farm, and lived in a more modern dwell-
ing.

The last place for Carl to visit was the town of R and
the mill-dam. He arrived in the afternoon, and took
rooms at the Eagle House. After arranging his toilet, he
inquired if a Mr. Dundore still resided in the town. He
was shown his residence. His heart bea^ fast! How
should he introduce himself? Should he send a note?
Should he go to the residence, or to the father's place

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

of business? If to the residence and Dora should be
the first to appear, would he be able to hide his confu-
sion? Was she married or single, dead or alive, sick or
well, at home or abroad, as beautiful as when a child, or
had her face lost its childish sweetness? Why was he
there anyway? He knew no one. As all these things came
rushing into his mind. Carl never felt so foolish in all
his life.

Carl noticed that the landlord observed his confusion.
He returned to his room to look at himself again in the
mirror, to see if he still looked rational. Satisfied on
this point, he sat down and triegl to control himself, but
somehow he became more and more embarrassed. He felt
hot, he must have fever; he put his finger on his wrist
seventy times to the minute. He put his hand to his
forehead he was perspiring. He decided that he
needed fresh air. Putting on his hat, he went out on
the street, and in a direction opposite to Mr. Dundore's
residence. He had gone but a little way when he
heard the sound of falling water. "Ah, that's the
mill-dam," said Carl. He continued his walk and
soon stood upon the pier of the old bridge just
above the dam. Some boys were sitting on the bank
fishing. The barn-swallows were flitting to and fro,
from the eaves of the old mill. A robin was singing
from the top of a sycamore just up the stream. Casting
his eyes up the stream, he saw some boats moored under
the willows. He felt impelled to try the oars and so
turned his steps in that direction ; but when he arrived
he found them all locked. He stood there in disgust.
He said to himself, "I might have known as much; " and

96 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

then aloud he said, "If Dora were here, she could un-
lock it."

"And so she will," said a voice behind him.

Turning around, he saw before him a lovely woman
with a smiling face, and she had a book in one hand and
a key in the other. Carl took off his hat, bowed, and went
forward with outstretched hand Dora pressed it warm-
ly, unlocked the boat, and asked him if he could row?

Dora begged leave to handle the oars herself, at least
until they were out of danger of the dam, and Carl did
not object. "Now you wonder," said Dora, after rowing
a little way up the stream, "how I came to be here
this afternoon? Well I'll tell you. A friend of mine
who lives at Griffinsville, wrote me of your arrival, and
of your business trip (as you expressed it) to R, before
returning. I knew that the first place you would come
would be right here to this old dam. Yesterday I received
another letter, stating that you would be here this after-
noon; so you see I came down to surprise you. When I
saw you on the bridge pier, I was sitting under the old
walnut, where we sat so many years ago when I tempted
you to commit both murder and suicide, and you would
not."

It was almost dusk when Carl assisted Dora from the
boat and accompanied her home; they seemed to each
other like old-time friends. Each had a long experi-
ence to relate, that the other was anxious to hear. Carl
remained several days, and in the evening of each day,
the little boat made its rounds to Tweed's Point and re-
turned. As they reached the landing place on the last
evening of his stay, Carl let the oars rest and, looking

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 97

full at Dora, said: "Dora, you remember Carl McKenzie,
when a boy, asked ) T OU to divide your roses with him
Carl McKenzie, as a man, asks you to divide your life
with him."

"And Carl McKenzie must remember," said Dora,
"how nearly fatal to both was that division; Dora, as a
child, tempted Carl, the boy; but, as a woman, Dora
would not tempt the man."

"I do not understand you, " said Carl. "Every word and
act of yours since I came here has tempted my request."

"Dear Carl, you are hasty," said Dora. "First, I have
not refused you."

"Then you'll be mine?" broke in Carl.

"Wait, Carl," said Dora, "wait till I explain, since
you do not understand me. As a child, I tempted
you to row with me, because I admired your uniform,
and because you were Captain, and I wanted people
to see me; I divided my roses with you, because
you satisfied my vanity; the motive that should
lead me to consent to sail with you over the ocean of
life should be born of the purest love; my heart may
possess it; I do not know, I can not tell yet; but, dear
Carl, I do think the roses are budding, and the sunshine
of the past few days has developed them greatly. Now,
can't you wait till they are full-blown roses? And
should they, from after cause, blight and drop before
they are full of the sweetest nectar, I know you will not
censure Dora will yt>u, Carl?"

Carl sat silent and thoughtful a while, and then repeated
this stanza:

98 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

" Over our hearts and into our lives

Shadows sometimes fall;
But the sunshine is never wholly dead,
And Heaven is shadowless overhead,
And God is over all."

Carl landed the boat, assisted Dora to the shore, ac-
companied her home, and promised to call in the morn-
ing before he took the train. He went slowly and
thoughtfully to his room at the hotel.

At ten o'clock the landlord rapped at Carl's door and
handed him a telegram. It read as follows:

"DEAR SON:- Come home at once.

"F. MCKENZIE."

Carl said: "How long till the first train west?"

"Just thirty minutes," was the reply.

Carl knew it was too late then to call and see Dora;
he sat down and hastily wrote:

"EAGLE HOUSE, 10 P. M.

"Mv DEAREST DORA: A telegram this moment calls me
home; I cannot tell why, as it simply says, 'come at once,'
and is from my father; I fear the worst; I know that in
whatever sorrow the near future may have in store for
me, I shall have the comfort of your sympathy. Oh Dora,
can you not be mine, mine for life? Believe me, I can,
I will, row our boat clear of the fall. Will you not reply
to this and tell me I may try?

"Your own CARL."

Carl sealed this note and took it to the office, which he
found closed; he struck a match and by the light which
it afforded found the slot in the weather-boarding. In
his haste the letter seemed to stick, and would not drop
into the box; the match in his hand went out, but Carl

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER QQ

pushed the letter on, and when he lighted another match
he saw that it had disappeared.

On arriving at home, Carl found no one sick or dead,
but an uncle of his from Iowa, who was passing through
and could only stop for the night and the next day, and
the father knew Carl wanted to see him*

Carl listened with the most intense interest to his
uncle's vivid descriptions of the glowing west, and secret-
ly made up his mind at least to visit that country. He
could go there and make a home for himself and Dora.

He did not doubt what her reply to the letter would
be. He knew he loved her and believed she loved him.
Day after day passed and still no letter came. He could
not understand it. He thought of writing again, but then
he thought, what use? She had, no doubt, the one already
written, and, if she could treat that GO coldly, she would
treat a less impassioned one more so.

He would g> west anyway. But, after his trunk was
packed, he was induced to give it up by the tears of his
parents. However, the spring of '74 found Carl on his
way to the town of D, in Iowa, to take charge of the
schools in that thriving little town. Carl visited for a
few days with his uncle and had his first experience in
shooting prairie chickens on the wing, a sport of which
he became exceedingly fond. When he visited the town
of D, where he was destined to remain for twelve years,
he met the board, signed his contract, and arranged for
a course of study, a thing this school had never had.

He then, in company with the president of the board,
went to visit the school-building. It made an imposing
appearance on the outside, and Carl was much pleased.

IOO BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

But when they entered it, and he saw the falling plaster,
the worn-out blackboards, the broken windows, the pen-
cil marks, the vulgar caricatures, the dirty floors, the
entire lack of apparatus of any kind whatever, (not a
globe, map, chart, or even eraser could be seen not a
clock, or a picture on the walls) when Carl saw all this,
he well knew that no man could teach a successful
school inside such uninviting walls. He turned to the
president of the board, and said: "Sir, do you expect
me to teach school in such a place as this? If you do,
please accept my resignation at once." Before they sep-
arated the president had promised Carl to have the
house put in order. At the next meeting of the board
the contract for repairs was let; Carl's course of stud} 7
presented, accepted, and ordered printed. At this meet-
ing the president stated to Carl that the board had em-
ployed him to have charge of the school ; that so far as
consistent they would comply with all his reasonable re-
quests; that in the matter of government they would
stand by him ; but when he found it was necessary to
call them together to settle difficulties, they would be
glad to receive his resignation.

Carl thanked the president for this frank statement;
said when he found he could not govern the school he
would resign; and hoped they would turn a deaf ear to
any gossip they might hear concerning the school, and
asked them to come to him with any reports against him
or his school-work. He assured them his government
would be mild, but firm. He asked them to not expect
results too soon, as it took time to lay a broad founda-
tion, and he realized that in his work here he must nee-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER IOI

essarily begin at the bottom. He stated further to them
that he had come there to stay; that he felt sure efficient
work would be appreciated here as well as in any other
place; and that he realized that one of the most fatal mis-
takes both to the schools and teachers, was the frequent
change of teachers. Therefore, whether he should re-
main long or not, he came with the full expectation of
remaining. He stated further that his work would al-
ways be open to their inspection, or to the inspection of
any patron of the school, and that he should always
court the fullest investigation of his work, both as
to instruction and discipline; that he would have nothing
to keep from their scrutiny or that of patrons. Finally,
he said: "Gentlemen, I hope you will take pains to in-
troduce me to the parents, whenever an opportunity
occurs, for I wish to know every one who has an inter-
est in the school. "

Among the many to whom Carl was introduced, there
was one, a young physician, fresh from college, by the
name of Corwin. Between Carl and Dr. Corwin there
grew up the most intimate friendship. The Doctor fre-
quently took Carl with him on his rides to the country,
and these trips were most restful and delightful to Carl
after his close application and confinement in the school-
room. Carl always felt grateful to the Doctor for his
thoughtful kindness; and, on the other hand, it was a
pleasure to the Doctor to have with him one so cheer-
ful and talkative and hopeful; for the early experience
of a young physician, just starting in life, is not always
conducive to hopeful and pleasant thought.

Carl was not only a member of the church, but was a

102 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

regular attendant at all Its services, and it was not long
until the Doctor was likewise a member and an attend-
ant. Carl, however, never claimed to have influenced
the Doctor in this direction.

Upon the opening of the school, in September, the
interior of the building presented a striking contrast to
the scene that met Carl's view on his first visit. The
walls had been calcimined, the boards repainted, the
wood- work grained, the floors and windows cleaned; a
clock had been placed in every room. Every room
possessed a new pail and cup, thermometer, erasers,
pointers, and a vase for flowers.

The out-buildings had been carefully looked after, and
the yard had been mowed and raked. Carl had arranged
to board with Ezra and Mary Brown. They were
a quiet, unassuming couple, about fifty years of age,
and resided in a quiet and shady part of town. Mary
was one of the best of housewives, and Ezra had a pas-
sion for good novels and fine horses.

On Wednesday before school opened, Carl met all his

teachers in the high-school room, for a talk about their

work; and, should these pages fall into the hands of

some one about to enter the graded school, let such an

.one read slowly.

When a friendly hand of greeting had been given to
each one, Carl said: "Ladies, I wish to briefly outline the
scope of work we have before us. Some of the things 1
may mention may at first seem trivial and unimportant,
but years of close observation have taught me their value.
First of all: Your rooms have been put in good order for
your reception; see to it that they are kept so. Let the

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER IO3

vase on your desk never lack for flowers. In each of
your rooms you will find a thermometer; look at its face
many rimes each day. Your ventilation registers will
need your careful attention. Study closely the light and
shade of your window-blinds. Your rooms have been
supplied with waste-baskets; allow no waste paper to
find its way into the coal-box or to be left on the floor.
Order, neatness, cleanliness, and a pure atmosphere will
always be characteristic of the successful teacher, and
the lack of these or any of these will characterize the
unsuccessful teacher. Should the janitor at any time neg-
lect any of his duties or become insolent in his' manner,
you will report the same to me at once. Next, as to in-
struction: A printed copy of the course of study you al-
ready have in your possession; keep a copy always in
your desk, for ready reference, and also a copy at your
home. I have carefully prepared a more specific outline
for this term's work for each of you, and I wish you to
carefully carry it out. You will also find, attached to
this outline work, a copy of your daily programme; keep
it always exhibited in your rooms. I have had special
boards painted in your rooms for this purpose. Our
course of study is not to be a dead letter it is to be
spirit and life. We will not be vacillating one month
all excitement on this hobby, and next month something
else and thus ever changing, like the skin of the cha-
meleon. Such a plan could bring only disaster.

"Each room will commit to memory a poem each term,
and recite it aloud in my presence. Sparta conquered
when her sons had learned the poems of Tyrtaeus.

"Third, as to government: We must first govern our-

104 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

selves. By this I mean, let no teacher, under any circum-
stances whatever, allow herself to say aught against any
other teacher in the building. Should you do so, your
resignation will at once be requested. Our trials are
mutual we must be united. The same will hold good in
regard to your pupils; do not say evil of the most refrac-
tory; punish when necessary, but do not speak evil against
the pupil. Believe me, every boy and every girl has a
good side somewhere search till you find it.

"As to corporal punishment: I insist that but one kind
shall be administered, viz: a good switching, with the
natural branch. Pinching, slapping, tying handkerchiefs
over mouths, putting pepper on the tongue, and all such
practices are heathenish, and will not be permitted.
Many of our pupils will come from vicious homes; let us
make their school environment conducive to the devel-
opment of their better natures; if they do not get it
here, they will not get it anywhere. Our regular teach-
er's meeting will occur each Monday evening, and, at our
first meeting next Monday evening, we will decide upon
a text book in Mental Science, and we will form a class

in that delightful study. The school on Monday even-
ings will be dismfssed at 3.45 o'clock, and thirty minutes
will be devoted to teacher's meeting proper, and thirty
minutes to Mental Science.

"In conlusion, I wish to say, ladies, your first and great-
est duty is to interest the child in himself. Begin to do
this the first day, and keep on doing it every day in the
year. Lead him day after day to see more clearly that
the life he builds here, he must take with him into eter-
nity that he can never put away from self. Let us re-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 105

alize as teachers, that the child we mold and fashion
awakens into this life like Adam in the garden of Eden,
and finds himself in a paradise, higher than the bloom
and fruitage, higher than the streams and embalming
shades can create. He finds the earth a vast and per-
fect apparatus of means adapted to ends. And God
created it all for him. Every tint, and every harmony, and
every impulse nature gives, is for the development of
the children we teach."

There lived, in the town of D, a man by the name of
Barney Strong. He is introduced to these pages because
year after year he met Carl, on his way to school, and
always had a passing greeting. He was an old North
Carolinian, tall and bony, with shaggy beard and long
hair silvered with age. His pants of blue jeans, his
"wammus", and broad-brimmed white hat, were as famil-
iar as his face. He was known for miles around as the
"weather prophet." When he was first introduced to
Carl, he looked him over and said: "Wall, you're a likely
lookin' chap. Take keer, boys, that ere Eph of mine's a
smart 'n. He never causes the teacher any trouble. I
say, take keer now, boys, he's a writer I I see, but he
writes with the best of them. So school begins a Mon-
day? wall, you'll have a nice day moon don't full till
Thursday."

There are no scenes that linger longer in our memories,
or sink deeper into our hearts, than those of September
morns, when old Nature is rallied in the fruitage of the
opening autumn. The air is cool and freighted with
the pollen of the corn and golden-rod. The sound of
the school-bell, the bustle and hurry of the home, the

106 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

filling of the dinner-pails, the gathering up of the books,
laid aside since spring vacation, the joyous voices of the
merry children, upon every road and street, buoyant with
life and vigor, all conspire to develop the best and pur-
est elements in our natures. The teacher stands in the
school-house door, with pleasant face and outstretched
hand, greeting all alike, rich or poor, white or black.
What a blessing that warm grasp and that bright smile
to many a pinched, dwarfed life, that has known only
kicks and cuffs at home, and cursings on the street.
May there not be here an opportunity for Galilean mir-
acles eyes to be opened, ears to be unstopped, dead pos-
sibilities to be resurrected? Such were .Carl's thoughts
as he stood in the open doorway at the beginning of the
first day's labor in the Hawkeye State. When evening
came, Carl felt well satisfied with his first day's work.
He had learned the names of the pupils; formed a kind
of classification, subject to changes; and made friends
with most of his pupils. He had convinced them of one
thing, that the fault should be theirs if there was not
cheerful, pleasant work for them all in the future.

Carl made careful preparation for what he called his
"morning talks on general history." These talks occupied
twenty minutes after the opening exercises every morn-
ing. With a map, in full view of the school and pointer
in hand, Carl led his pupils on, day after day, through
the history of the centuries. At the same time an outline
of the subject was made on the board, and copied by
the pupils. The degree of interest awakened was won-
derful; soon the pupils were asking for books of refer-
ence. Carl immediately arranged for a school entertain-

BUCKEVE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 107

ment. He offered a prize of a silk flag to the room sell-
ing the most tickets. As a result every seat in the town-
hall was taken. The entertainment was first-class, as
was every one that followed. Thus the people became
anxious for their school entertainments. Not a cent of
the money was wasted; a large library was soon gath-
ered; pictures were put upon the walls, apparatus of
every kind was secured for every grade. Go, teacher, do
thou likewise! thou canst.

The books were read, at home and at school, by the
pupils. The desire to read the best books became con-
tagious, and the older people organized a Historical So-
ciety, and afterward a C. L. S. C., of which Carl him-
self was an active member, and became a graduate.
There was no trouble in governing such a school the
school governed itself!

I do not mean to say there were no misdeeds and no
punishments; but such occurrences were rare, and every
wrong committed was promptly met and punished.

Every day Carl met his old friend, Barney, and learn-
ed of the weather.

When the first snow came, Carl said: "Barney, what do
you think of this snow will it last long?"

"Wall, ef it fell in the dark of the moon it may last
some time; I've allers noticed that ef you throw a board
out on the dark of the moon, it'll go down, and ef you
throw it down in the light of the moon it'll turn
up."

"I suppose, Barney," said Carl, "every man ought to
tell the truth?"

"Thar's no man/ 1 said Barney, "but w-w -what' 11 vary a

IO8 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

leetle; I-I-I'll bet all I'm wurth that any of our preach-
ers'll vary a leetle. I-I-I've tried 'em."

"But a man may not choose to tell everything, Bar-
ney," said Carl.

"T-t-take keer there now, boys, the Good Book tells
us to be prompt in all things."

"That's right, Barney, I do not believe you would
lie."

"T-t-take keer there now, boys! No, if-if-if a man
asks me anything, I'll tell him the truth, every whack."

Year after year, the school at D grew and prospered;
year after year, the same teachers were employed at in-
creased salaries; year after year, pupils from other dis-
tricts flocked in, until the school-board was compelled
to build additional school room. The outside attendance
added wealth to the town, vivacity to the school, and
pleasure to the social circle.

Carl labored on with a double purpose in view, viz.,
the good of mankind, and a home some day, somewhere,
with dared he hope Dora, "some sweet day, some
sweet day."

CHAPTER IX.

THE LOST LETTER.

" The tender trouble of her eyes

Is burning hope deferred: the tears
In witness of her grief, arise
From day to day, through all the years."

Dora Dundore had been born and reared in the sub-
urbs of the town of R. Her father was a wealthy farmer.
There is, perhaps, no more fertile spot anywhere in the
world than the Scioto valley. Mr. Dundore was the pos-
sessor of four hundred acres of this productive soil, and
his possession touched the corporation line of R.

He was one of the few farmers that could oversee a
farm successfully without doing its drudgery.

His wife was a literary lady of fine culture, and was
always foremost in every enterprise of philanthropy.
Her parents were both "Quakers," and in the home circle
the whole family used the plain language of the
"Friends."

Dora had two brothers and one sister, all younger than
herself. Her sister, who was the youngest, was at once
the pet and plaything of the whole family.

When Carl first met Dora, her dark expressive eyes
and her sprightly imperious manner were her chief at-
tractions. The slight willfulness, which was displayed

109

HO BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

when a child, gave energy and self reliance to her char-
acter as she appproached womanhood. Both pride and
ambition, as well as a sense of duty, impelled her to do

well whatever she undertook to do. Nature had given
her more than average mental ability, and no pains were
spared by the loving parents in the development of her
intellectual faculties. During her school -life, Dora
learned the most valuable lesson that any student can
learn, and that lesson was, to study from love for study.
She did not however allow her school -work to cause her
to neglect physical exercise. She enjoyed riding horse-
back and frequently made half-day excursions to the
country, with her father or brothers for company. There
was no form of outdoor exercise that gave her so much
pleasure, as a quiet row on the river. Almost any pleas-
ant day she might be seen sending her boat swiftly up
the stream. Sometimes she would land under some
shady tree and read or dream an hour or two; but more
often she would row until tired, and then, turning
the boat toward home, would slowly float with the cur-
rent.

But Dora Dundore did not live the life of a dreamer.
She could not; the life blood that coursed with such
strength and vigor through her veins, imparted too
much vitality, too much energy, to permit an idle life.
Trained to habits of industry by a careful, Christian
mother, Dora found, as every oldest daughter may find,
that many of her mother's cares and duties were passing
into her hands, and, being an unselfish, loving, conscien-
tious girl, their discharge was a pleasure rather than a
burden to her. The influence of a Christian home, and

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER III

daily reading of God's word had early, led Dora to
see the need of spiritual development, and so carefully
was she taught and trained, that her religious life had
grown as her mind grew. She took delight in the reading
of her Bible, in secret prayer, and in the public wor-
ship, because it satisfied the demands of this faculty
that an allwise Father had given her to develop.

These she felt to be just as enjoyable as the row on
the river, or the studies of some new subject. Nor is it
strange, that she should enjoy them. She had devel-
oped the capacity for their enjoyment. Her parents fully
appreciated the truth, that we can enjoy doing only
those things which we have strength to do; and so, little
by little, all her life, they cared for the spiritual nature
of their child, and taught her to do those things that
would add to her spiritual strength. She enjoyed the
row on the river, because she was physically strong; she
enjoyed the mastery of new subjects, because she had
mental power, and she found delight in the performance
of religious duties, because the development of the
highest and best part of her nature had not been neglected.
Dora was not perfect; she was simply a healthy, happy,
conscientious, Christian girl, who loved home and pa-
rents, laughed and sang with her brothers and baby sis-
ter, and did each day the duties nearest to her hand,
and trusted her heavenly Father for the. morrow.

After her adventure on the water with Carl, when the
gratification of her childish vanity came nearly not only
costing her her own life but that of another, for a long
time she was more serious and thoughtful than ever be-
fore in her life. No thoughtful mind can realize that

112 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

they have been so near eternity, and not be sobered by
the thought.

All through her childhood days she loved to wander
down the street to the old mill, and although, for years,
she would involuntarily catch her breath at sight of the
dam, and a feeling of fear would thrill her whole being
at sound of the waters falling over into the current
below, she could not find it in her heart to wish that
the circumstance had not occurred.

The time of roses never came but she remembered
that she had once shared them with the playfellow who
saved her life.

As years passed, Dora formed the habit of comparing
Carl with the boys who were her playfellows. Knowing
so little of him and admiring him for that one act of
bravery, she did just what every girl and woman in this
world does at one time in her life forms an ideal char-
acter and invests a poor, imperfect piece of humanity with
its characteristics. Happy the man who has manhood
enough to try to live somewhere near the ideal created
for him by the woman who loves him; and happy the
woman whose blindness continues through life, and who
never realizes that her idol is clay common clay.

When Dora met Carl at the spelling-school, he in no
way disappointed her. She was too honest to disguise
the pleasure that meeting of him gave her, and too young
to ask herself why every incident connected with that
meeting was recalled over and over again with so much
enjoyment.

No school exhibition, church or Sabbath-school socia-
ble was quite complete without Dora. She was a favor-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 113

ite not only with her young companions, but with older
people as well. She had a clear, sweet voice and, whether
heard in recitation or song, it never failed to please
those who listened.

I insert a little poem composed by her at the age of
twelve years, and declaimed at the school exhibition:

THE FARMING MAN.

11 Who may with the farmer vie?
See his fields of wheat and rye:
Harvest yields a rich supply
To the farming man.

When the autumn winds appear,
See his corn with golden ear;
Welcome seasons of the year
To the farming man.

See the orchard's fruitful trees;
Apples lie among the leaves,
Peaches better still than these
For the farming man.

And to make the sweetest wine
Plucks the grapes from off the vine;
Everything is done in time
By the farming man.

Horses fine may farmers keep,
Cows and hogs, and fleecy sheep;
Everything is here complete
With the farming man.

He has buckwheat, oats, and hay;
Fowls of many kinds alway;
Plenty crowns the autumn day
For the farming man.

Blest are they who own a farm,
For the country has a charm
Pleasing to the heart that's warm-
Like the farming man."

While not an artist, Dora dearly loved to use her pen-
cil; and many an overhanging tree or rugged bluff along
8

114. BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

the bank of her favorite river, had been reproduced by
her on canvas. But, among all her pictures, there was
not one in which she had put so much of patient work
and tender memories, as the picture of the old mill-dam.
When Dora learned of Carl's intended visit to R, her
heart told her at once that he was coming to see her;
she then believed what she had long hoped, that she
still lived in his affections. She was now in her early
womanhood. She had known nothing of Carl during all
the years since the spelling-school. She could only re-
member the boy. She knew she had admired the boy;
but would she love the man? Would he be educated and
refined? He would mark the changes in her as well
would they please him?

Her affections had been sought by other young men,
but their proffered love was not reciprocated, although
at one time she had tried to persuade herself to care for

one who seemed in every way a most estimable young
man.

She tried to think calmly of Carl's intended visit and
to prepare herself for it. Possibly, he would make only
a formal visit. Possibly he had not remembered her with
the same warmth of feeling that she had rernembered
him perhaps, after all, it would really be a business trip,
and he would return without even visiting her.

On the other hand, should he offer his love and
in spite of her effort, her face would flush when the
thought came could she reciprocate it? Was he not,
after all, a stranger to her? Certainly she could not trust
her future to the keeping of one who was so nearly a
stranger.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE ' SCHOOL-MASTER 115

Should she receive him in a cold, formal manner until
she knew more of his feelings and purposes?

When all these thoughts had passed through her mind
a thousand times and more, she decided that, if he was
aiming to see her, the first place he wpuld visit would
be the old mill-dam. She would meet him there; she
would take this as an index of his feelings toward her,
and she would meet him kindly and, if he offered her his
protection and his love, she would not refuse them.
Carl had always been a factor, uninvited, yet ever mys-
teriously present, in all her schemes of future life. When
he came and she met him at the boat, she did not feel satis-
fied that she knew her own heart as she had thought she
would. And long after Carl had gone to his own rooms,
she sat by her window not dreaming, but with every fac-
ulty alert, reviewing the hours of the afternoon and even-
ing and trying to plan her future, for she knew, now,
that sooner or later, there would come to her a question
which she must answer. And from her inmost heart she
wanted to be able to decide for the good, as well as the
present happiness, of both herself and Carl.

She did not, she could not, decide it now; and, kneel-
ing, she prayed earnestly for wisdom and guidance in
this one of the most important events of her life.

Day after day, during Carl's visit, Dora learned to re-
alize the depths of her affection for him. And she had
almost determined when the supreme moment came,
when he should ask her companionship for life, that she
would give the answer her heart prompted, and Carl so
much desired. But when it came she was not ready, she
would be sure of herself, would know more of Carl be-

Il6 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

fore she would bind herself by any definite promise. Carl
had seemed so sure of a favorable reply, perhaps, she
had unconsciously encouraged him to believe that she
was to be had for the asking. His slightly confident
manner touched^ her pride, and she determined to
not give him just the answer he most desired. Dora,
however, was not a little disappointed, when Carl
bade her a kind, almost a tender, good night, but did not
once allude to the thought that each knew to be upper-
most in the mind of the other. Before they reached
home she would have given all the world, had she an-
swered him as her heart dictated. Had Carl really
called that night at ten o'clock, he would have found
Dora still awake, and his dark forebodings would have
been lightened, and his heart cheered and comforted by
what her eyes, if not her lips, would have told him.

Her first awakening thought, the next morning, was
that Carl would call early to bid her good-bye. Would
he renew his request could she reasonably hope that he
might?

She gathered the choicest flowers and arranged two
tiny bouquets, in each of which she put a rose, a pansy,
and a dainty sprig of heliotrope; drawing a single strand
of hair from her glossy braids, she bound them together
in such a way that they would separate easily. When Carl
came, he should have one, and she would keep the other
she knew that he would understand. Much has been
said of maidenly loveliness; pen and brush, in the hand
of poet and painter, have vied with each other to pro-
duce a picture, that may impress the heart through the
eye or ear, as does the vision of budding woman-hood.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 117

But father, mother, and lover know that no poet's dream
or painter's canvas ever rivaled for one moment, in sweet-
ness or beauty, the dainty, girlish creature, who is all
the world to them. Such was the thought of Mr. and
Mrs. Dundore, as Dora, in a pale pink morning gown,
passed lightly from room to room, with a smiJe on her
lips and light in her eye. She was happy, and that
happiness beamed from every feature of her expressive
countenance. Nothing of this escaped the mother's no-
tice, and her smile was not all joy, as she heard the
sweet, full tones of her daughter's voice, singing an old
love song which she learned to please her father.

But the moments flew by, and no Carl came. She
heard the whistle of the train; it was now too late to
expect him, and with anxious face and heavy heart she
went about her daily duties. As the day wore away, she
felt that she must be alone; she could not longer appear
indifferent. The weather was delightful, she would go
to the river. She walked slowly down to where the boat
was moored, she unlocked it, stepped in, and pushed out
from the shore. As she took up the oars, the events of
the past few days, and especially the conversation of the
day before, came vividly before her. Her eyes filled
with tears and, as she slowly pulled up the stream, she
wondered if it were possible that he had misconstrued
her answer into a positive refusal. She felt that this
was hardly possible she had but asked him to wait and
waiting, he might hope. The thought that Carl had been
base enough to win her affections to gratify his vanity,
and really cared nothing for her, was one unworthy of
herself and dishonorable to a friend. Her woman's heart

IlS BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

was wrought upon by fears, of she knew not what. Sud-
denly the thought came that he might be sick in his
room at the hotel. Reproaching herself for her thought-
lessness, she would go at once and inquire. She turned
her boat toward home, but before she reached the shore
her heart failed her. Why should a young lady be in-
quiring at a hotel for a young gentleman? What expla-
nation could she offer to the landlord? Heart-sick and
sad she returned to her home, and, without seeing any of
the family, went at once to her own room. She removed
her hat and, tossing to one side her roses, threw herself
upon the couch and wept long and bitterly.

When the supper hour came, her place was vacant.
She did not respond to her mother's call. Somewhat
alarmed, the mother ascended to Dora's room and found
her still weeping.

A few broken words and her daughter's tears told the
loving mother more plainly than the clearest explana-
tion could have done, the cause of the sudden change
that had come over the happy girl of the morning. With
loving words and tender caresses the mother bathed the
aching head, and cheered the heavy heart of her child.
As Dora grew calmer she laid her head upon her moth-
er's knee and told her all that there was to tell, both of
childish dreams and girlish love.

Then she told her mother of the question asked the
day before, and the answer she had given. The moth-
er's breath came quickly but she said quietly, as she
passed her hand lovingly over the waving brown hair,
which shadowed the pure white forehead: 'You did
quite right, my dear, in not deciding quickly; and

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

whether this experience brings thee all joy, or subjects
thee to trial, thou hast a loving Father's care, and
'all things work together for good to those who love
Him.' Dora soon became quiet and the mother left
her.

It was decided that her father should go to the hotel
and ascertain if Carl was still there; if not, at what time
he left. Upon making inquiry he was informed that Mr.
McKenzie had received a telegram the previous even-
ing, the contents of which the landlord did not know
that he seemed much excited asked the time of the
first train, paid his bill, hurriedly wrote a letter, asked
for an envelope and stamp, took it to the post-office and
went immediately to the train. Mr. Dundore turned
his steps towards the post-office expecting to find the
letter for Dora, that would make the necessary explana-
tion. So he walked leisurely down that way, talking
with one and another he met on the street. As he came
within a block of the office, he met Deacon Smith who
lives just across the river and was known far and wide
for his acts of charity, and staunch nobility of char-
acter. Dundore and Smith had known each other from
boyhood ; they were members of the same church and
used the plain language; both were staunch Republicans.
After chatting a few minutes about the crop prospect,
Smith said: ' Neighbor Dundore, I would like to have a
little private talk with you, and, as soon as I mail this
letter, I will return."

"I will go with you, neighbor," said Dundore, "as I
have not been this morning."

The two stalwart farmers walked together down the

I2O BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

street to the post-office. Deacon Smith mailed his let-
ter, and Mr. Dundore asked for his mail.

"Nothing for you, Mr. Dundore," said the postmaster.

"Have any of the family got the mail to-day?" said
Mr. Dundore.

"No, there has none come for you."

"May I ask if thou wilt be so kind as to look into
the box, receiving the mail from the outside slot?" said
Mr. Dundore.

"It is not necessary, as I have already looked in there
once to-day," said Mr. Dewey, dryly.

Dundore and Smith walked out of the office, and when,
a few minutes after, they were seated on two boxes, in
the back-room of Arment's store, Smith began : "Neighbor,
Dundore, thee and me have known each other for a great
many years, and I have always found thee a faithful
friend one in whom I could confide my secret thoughts."

"And I can say the same of thee, neighbor Smith,"
said Dundore.

"Now," continued Smith, "what I am about to say
concerns the man we have just left, Michael Dewey,
our postmaster. Some time ago I mailed a letter to
widow Smolton, whom you know is needy, and as the
Bible says 'Let not thy right hand know what thy left
hand doeth,' I put the letter through the slot on the
outside. I asked the widow to acknowledge the receipt
of this letter, which she never has done. But this is not
all, neighbor Dundore others have been losing letters
and money in the same way. The good Lord knows I
do not wish to judge anyone wrongfully. Mr. Dewey has
always seemed like a straight-forward man; he pays his

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 121

debts; he is temperate and frugal. I signed the petition
to Abraham Lincoln, asking for his appointment. I have
not mentioned my suspicions to anyone but thyself, and
I have come to thee for advice and counsel."

"What you say indeed seems strange, neighbor Smith.
Michael Dewey has always seemed to me like an up
right man, and we have not a better Republican among
us than he. Suppose we let the matter rest for awhile,
and await further developments. We have no positive
proof at present, and I am a firm believer in the state-
ment 'murder will out.'

Deacon Smith concurred with Mr. Dundore, and so
their conversation ended.

Mr. Dundore thought seriously of the matter as he
walked homeward. Arriving at home he related to Dora
and her mother all that he had learned of the telegram,
and the sudden departure of Carl McKenzie.

For a long time Dora looked daily for a letter from
Carl, but as the time lengthened into weeks, and then
into months, she no longer expected it. She heard,
through the friends who had written of his intended visit
to R, that he had gone to Iowa; and then, except as he
lived in her memory, he had dropped entirely out of
her life.

While attending the Friends' College at Richmond,
Indiana, Dora made many warm friends; among them
was one to whom she was especially attached. This
friend was the daughter of missionaries who had spent
the best part of their lives in trying to Christianize the
Indians of Montana. Mary Martin had lived among these
people until she was twelve years of age, and loved her

122- BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

home and the work of her parents \vith a feeling that
was almost devotion. About the time that Carl came to
R, Mary had written Dora to come to the mountains,
and spend the summer. It was talked over in family
council, and decided that Dora could not be spared, but
a pressing invitation had just been sent to Mr. and Mrs.
Martin to allow Mary to come to Ohio and spend a few
weeks, at least, with her school-mate. Mary came and
won all their hearts with her pure, sweet face, and gentle,
loving ways. The visit of weeks grew into months, and
snow was on the ground when Mary Martin started for
her western home. Besides the loving remembrances
and kind wishes that Mary took with her, she carried
the heart of a tall dark-eyed cousin of Dora's. The next
spring, investments were made in some mines not far
from the reservation, and a new home was made in the
delightful little valley where Mary had always lived.

Dora was losing sprightliness and vigor. She was
not sick, but the daily round of simple duties was be-
coming wearisome to her; she longed for a broader field
and harder work.

Two years had now passed since that memorable even-
ing in the boat, and she had heard not a word from
Carl, nor did she know anything of his whereabouts-
only that he had gone to Iowa. Mary, in her far-awpy
home, had written repeatedly for her to come to them
and enjoy the benefit of the mountain air. The feeling
of dissatisfaction with her life grew stronger and stronger ;
she knew that she had powers for usefulness that were
unemployed, and, after consultation with father and
mother, she wrote, offering herself as a helper to Mr.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 123

and Mrs. Martin, in their work among the Piegan In-
dians.

The offer was gladly accepted and all the preliminaries
being settled, Dora began her preparations for her jour-
ney. These were few and simple, and soon completed.

Many were the loving admonitions and bits of advice,
given by father and mother, in the quiet evening talks
with this dear daughter who was so soon to try her
wings outside the home-nest. Never had home seemed
so dear, or home-companionship so sweet, as in those
last few days. And had Dora not felt that she must
have employment to occupy both hand and brain, and
have no time for thought of self, she would even now
have given up the work which she had undertaken. But
there was too much persistence in her nature, and the
sense of duty which urged her forward was too strong,
to permit her to waver.

On the morning previous to Dora's departure, the town
of R was thrown into a fever of excitement. Deacon
Smith's suspicions grew in his mind to certainties.
People no longer whispered their suspicions, but talked
them broadly in the street. The feeling became so
strong this time that there was a petition, with many
hundred signers, asking for Mr. Dewey's removal. The
Post-office Department at Washington had frequently
been notified of the missing letters, and, at this very
time, had one of Pinkerton's detectives in the town, at
work, although he was not known to the citizens. For
a long time the detective was completely baffled. He
found that whenever he mailed a letter in the office,
it always reached its destination; but twice out of five

124 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

times, when mailed through the outside slot, the letters

were lost.

Taking with him the officials of the town, he called
at the post-office, put Mr. Dewey under arrest, and pro-
ceeded to go through the contents of the office. Here he
found everything all right. He then examined the let-
tei-box. He handed a gentleman half a dozen letters
and sent him on the outside to slip them in; when the
lid was raised but four could be found. It was the work
of a moment to tear off the box. All was plain: the lit-
tle slot between the plastering and weather-boarding
had slipped from its place, and, unless care was taken,
the letters would fall down inside the plastering, instead
of into the box on the inside. In a few moments, the
lath and plaster were removed, and there were found
more than one hundred letters which had failed to reach
their destination. Among the many was one containing
five dollars, addressed to Widow Smolton, and one which
Carl McKenzie had written to Dora Dundore.

CHAPTER X.

A DAY'S EXPERIENCE COPIED FROM CARL'S DIARY.

Needful instruction; not alone in arts,
Which to his humble duties appertain,
But in the love of right and wrong, the rule
Of human kindness, in the peaceful ways
Of honesty and holiness severe.

This is a glorious morning never felt better in all my
life. I hope for a good day's work. Not a cloud in the
sky outside. Mary's coffee, steak, and waffles, all seemed
to taste extra nice this morning. Someone is knocking

"Good morning, Mr. McKenzie."

"Good morning, Mr. Gillam."

"I don't want to bother you in your work or find any
fault with the school, but them Thornton boys keeps
cloddin' my Freddie, on the way home from school. I
know Freddie is a good little boy, and always wants to
do what is right; and I never knew him to tell a lie in
all his life. I don't allow him to fight, and we always
tell him he must mind his teacher. I thought I would
just tell you about it. It must be stopped or I' 11 have to
take Freddie out of school; I can't have him crippled."

"Very well, Mr. Gillam, I shall look into the matter.
Will be glad to have you visit the school, Mr. Gillam."
It is eight o'clock passing down the street I meet my

old friend.

195

126 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

"Good morning, Barney. This is a glorious morning;
How about the weather to-morrow, Barney?"

"T-t-take keer now, boys. It'll be playin' another
tune now, mighty quick I-I-Itell you old Barney hain't
watched them ere stars all his life, for nothin'. It'U
snow before ten o'clock to-night. T-t-take keer now
boys. Thirty-eight years ago to-morrow morning, and
old Barney would be a goin' out with his gun after a
buck, and I'd git him, too."

' Barney, how did you like Johnson's sermon yesterday?"

"Johnson is a mighty smart man. H-h-he is a calm
man and can keep this thoughts together. That's what
it takes to make a smart man."

"What do you think of the legislature, Barney."

"Both sides is wrong. T-t-t-take keer there, boys;
they ought to be doin' something else besides dividin' the
spoils. "

Here comes ten year-old June.

"Good morning, Mr. McKenzie; I brought you a bou-
quet."

"O, thank you, June those are very beautiful; shall I
kiss you for them?"

"No, indeed, papa would be jealous if you did; and,
besides, if you kissed me, I'd kiss you; and you see you
would be still more in my debt than you are now, for
you know, although flowers are sweet, that kisses are
sweetest."

I reached my office.
"Good morning, Mrs. Smith."

"Good morning, Mr. McKenzie; sorry to take your time,
but the W. C. T. U. have arranged for a grand mass-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 127

meeting in the hall, to-night. The mayor and all the
preachers are to speak, and we want a speech from you,
also just a ten minutes talk."

"I never make speeches, Mrs. Smith, and, really, I can-
not grant your request."

"But they told me you was for temperance and the
home. "

"Well, so I am, but I don't make speeches."

"Well you'll be there anyway, and I know you'll
announce it through all the school."

"Certainly, I'll do that, Mrs. Smith."

"Well, I'll not take more of your time Good morn-
ing, Mr. McKenzie. "

"Good morning."

"Well, sir, what can I do for you?"

"I do not wish to trespass upon your time, but I am
here to represent Jones' Brothers, and am selling the
'Wonders of the World.'

"Can't buy you know the laws of this state forbid
agents to vend their goods in school-buildings."

"Good morning, sir."

"Well, Nellie, what can I do for you?"

"Here's a note teacher sent you."

"MR. MCKENZIE: I am unable to take charge of my
room to-day. Will you please send a substitute?

TEACHER FOURTH GRADE."

"All right, Nellie tell her I'll send a substitute."

"Jimmie, you come next, my fine boy what is it?"

"Mr. McKenzie, please, teacher wants a box of cray-
ons."

"And here it is, Jimmie."

128 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

"Delia, let me see your note."

"MR. MCKENZIE: Sir: My children was sent home
for scarlet fever, and they are out a pensil and a Scratch-
Book. Yu'll hunt them up and send them this noon.

"MICHAEL MAYHO."

"All right, Delia; I'll look them up."

On my table, two notes:

No. i. "TEECHER, please let my little Henry Change his
seet claud Romic sister have just got over scarlet fever
and He is apt to take it eny time a most and Oblige

"MRS. E. J. EVANS."

No. 2. 'MR. PROFESSOR: This thing of children a study-
in' drawin' i don't see no sence in, and i don't want my
boy to study it tech him his numbers, readin'and ritin',
that's enough fur him to lurn. THOMAS SNODGRASS. "

"I see I still have one occupant in the office beside
myself may I inquire your name?"

"Joan Headly,"

"And you wish to enter school?"

"Yes sir."

"How far have you been in arithmetic, Joan?"

"Through Ray's Third Part, three times."

"Oh, can you tell me the amount of 150 pounds of hay,
at $4.00 per ton?"

"How many pounds?"

"One hundred and fifty."

"At what price?"

"Four dollars per ton."

"Why, we never had anything like that I never heard
of such a problem."

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE. SCHOOL-MASTER

"Well, take another one: three-fourths of twelve is
three-fifths of what number?"

"I'd have to have a pencil for that."

"Have you studied grammar?"

"Oh yes, but I don't know whether it is the same
kind you have here or not."

"Will you analyze this sentence for me Washington
crossed the Delaware in the middle of the night."

"I can diagram it "

"But can you not analyze it?"

"We only diagrammed where I went to school."

!: Who was your teacher, Miss Headiey?"

"Miss Jane Simpson."

"I remember her quite well, she was in the Normal
last year and she holds a first-class certificate. It is
now my class-time, Miss Headiey. There is the morn-
ing paper; entertain yourself until my return."

Geometry class recited well, yet, I must confess a
feeling of disappointment because in studying the lesson
myself, I had Oscar Knell epecially in my mind, and he
is absent this morning. In my office again, and Miss
Headiey assigned to seventh grade. Sat down and just
began to look over mental science lesson for teachers'
meeting. A loud rap.

"Good-morning. Mrs. Baker, I believe?"

"Yes, sir, that's just who it is."

"Will you be seated, Mrs, Baker?"

"I haven't time to set down, but I believe I will
anyhow, for I see I am a little nervous."

"Climbing the stairs, no doubt. Take this easier
chair Mrs. B."
9

130 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

"Well, sir, I just can't stand this any longer that
teacher in seventh grade a-beating my boy. 1 just hate
her; she ought never to have had a position in the
school. "

"Have you visited the seventh grade, Mrs. Baker?"

"No, sir, I have not."

"Possibly if you visited the grade you might find
things different from what you suppose them to be."

"I do not wish to visit the room, and besides I am so
thoroughly provoked with the teacher that I don't wish
to even speak to her."

"You say that the teacher has beaten Kee; when did
this happen?"

"It happened last Friday."

"Where did she strike him, Mrs. Baker?"

"Over the head, sir, and bruised it terribly."

"I am sorry, indeed, if such is the case. Remain here
a moment until I see the boy."

The boy, the teacher, and Mrs. B. all in the office.

"Kee, did you have any trouble with your teacher on
Friday?

"No, sir."

"None whatever?"

"No, sir, only she slapped me with a blotter for being
down between the seats."

"Kee Baker! what did you tell me?"

"Well, mother, I guess part of what I told you wasn't
so; you know I said 'that she struck me,' and then I put
my hand to my head where the bruise was; and you said,
"the wretch;' and then I cried, and that's all there was

f . it

of it.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 13!

"But how did you hurt your head, Kee?"

"Well, Mr. McKenzie, I see you know all about it, so
I guess I'll tell the truth. Jim Snider and me didn't
want to speak Friday, so we played hook, and I fell off
the top of a car and banged my head. Jim said I was
senseless for awhile."

"Oh, my goodness you, Kee Baker! '

"Never mind, Mrs. B; I hope you are satisfied, and
that you will have a more kindly feeling for the teacher,
and a closer watch over your son. My class is waiting;
so, good-day, and call again."

A fine recitation in Algebra.

Recess the Ones beat the Twos at football, and I
am the worse of a bruised shin.

On my way to dinner met Mr. Owen. He says that
his children never learned so fast in their lives. Says,
he will visit the school in a few days.

Met the president of the board; he smiled and shook
hands, and said he guessed everything was running
nicely, as he had heard no complaints.

In my office, just after dinner Willie sobbing-
"Well, what is it, Willie?"

Willie begins to tell. "Sit down, Willie; I think,
from what you say, you have told your teacher an un-
truth, When you think it all over please tell me just
the whole truth about it." At end of first half -hour.
Willie is uneasy.

"Well, my boy, what have } 7 ou to say?"

"I did tell my teacher a lie; and may I go down and
tell her so, and that I am sorry?"

"Yes, and your tears and manner tell me you are sorry."

132 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

3:45 P. M. All the teachers present at teachers' meet-
ing. The first fifteen minutes devoted to the discussion
of Kindergarten work in the primary grades. Unani-
mous opinion of the teachers that the work in solids
and clay-modeling should be carried forward, through
all the primary grades. And an outline of this work
was promised for our next meeting. The last fifteen
minutes devoted to synthetic reading. The discussion
was very spirited, both pro and con. At the conclusion
the principal gave his opinion as follows:

"To the synthetic system in the hands of a skillful
teacher, and combined with other methods, I have no
objections. As has justly been said here this evening,
the system requires study to understand it, and work to
succeed with it. It seems to me the synthetic system
is but a rounding out of McGuffey's speller. Along expe-
rience with McGuffey has taught me that to follow his
idea, exclusively, is to perfect in articulation and pro-
nunciation, at the expense of expression and thought, and
I am satisfied that the synthetic system, used exclusively,
would lead to the same result. I wish to say further,
however, I would not recommend any person to the
school-board, for a position as primary teacher, who had
not mastered the synthetic method."

The first half of chapter five, Porter's Psychology,
taken up and discussed for thirty minutes.

All alone in the office. Can hear the janitor whistling
down-stairs. Good! I see Dr. Corwin driving up this
way that means a ride in the country; and then supper,
and the temperance meeting, my mail, my lessons for
to-morrow, and finally, sleep, blessed sleep!

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 133

And so ends one day's experience, taken verbatim et
literatim from Carl McKenzie's diary.

This may seem an exaggerated day's work; but every
one who has had even a small experience in graded-
school work will recognize it, perhaps as an off day, but
as one which frequently comes. It was always said of
Carl, by his assistant teachers, that he was always the
same not easily excited, and never allowed himself to
become "fussy." He was always polite, and, no matter
how his work crowded him, he was always cheerful and
hopeful.

This tended to make every one around him cheerful.
No teacher ever went to Carl for aid or advice but she
received the kindest treatment; yet he was positive.
He could say "no" so firmly, and yet so kindly, that all
respected his decision, whether they believed it for the
best or not.

Carl was likewise pleasant and affable with the patrons
of the school. He was very often found in the homes of
his pupils. On Saturdays it was his custom to visit the
stores and business houses, and speak a pleasant word
with the proprietors. Carl was liked by the business men,
not only for his sociability, but from the fact that he
always paid the cash for whatever he bought. He never
allowed his name to be placed on their ledgers. He
claimed that a man on a salary could, if he would, pay
for his goods when he bought them, and thus have at
least a month's wages at the end of the year *o carry
him over through vacation.

Carl's high-school boys always came to him for ad-
vice, and out of many hundred talks I choose a brief one.

134 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

The boy, whose given name was Thomas, was from
the country; he was about sixteen years of age, and was
a member of the Baptist church. His parents were well-
to-do farmers. He said:

"Mr. McKenzie, you seem to take a great deal of
interest in us boys and girls, and as I want to get
as much out of my life as possible, I wish you would
outline a course of action for me to follow."

"Well, Thomas," said Carl, "that is a pretty large
request, but we will see what we can do with it. Let
us get our bearings first a kind of invoice of yourself.
Physically, you are strong plenty of bone and muscle;
you are attending school, and t^ing to educate your-
self; you already know that an education is not mem-
orizing, but an awakening of your whole intellectual life
to self-exertion and activity, and you are willing to toil
to secure this, because it will make you useful to your-
self and to mankind. You have learned that Christianity
is not believing some dogma or creed, but that it is the
active development of the soul in works of philanthropy
and love, and the copying of your life after that of the
Nazarene.

"Now, let us look into the future. Care well for your
physical body, and see to it, Thomas, that no act of yours
ever degrades it. Continue your course at school, if
possible, until you graduate from the college; be ever
active in your work for cJiurch and Sunday-school.

"But, Thomas, there is a business world, and you must
mingle with it. Select you twelve men, and make it a
point to show yourself particularly pleasant and polite
to each of them; seek to do them little kindnesses; be

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 135

in their society whenever you can do so politely; in
short, interest those twelve men in yourself. Do not
lose your interest in other men, but be especially inter-
ested in these twelve. There will be many advantages to
you arising from this: First, if they are men of char-
acter and you should select only such their silent in-
fluence, aside from their companionship, will lend you a
dignity of character. Second: When you are older they
will introduce you into business circles, and will give
you a prestige you would not otherwise have.

"Should you wish to enter a professional or political
career, their influence will be a wonderful force in your
behalf. Try this, Thomas, not in a half-hearted way, but
persistently, and you are sure to succeed. Interest your-
self in others, and others will interest themselves in
you. Do not believe all men rascals, Thomas, but rather
believe all men honest, until you find them to be dis-
honest. Like Barney said to me this morning, 'T-t-take
keer there, boys; we're all good men, and only once in a
while a bad one; t-t-take keer there, boys, you shouldn't
think every man a thief.'

" 'If what shines afar so grand,
Turns to nothing in thy hand,
On again; the virtue lies
In the struggle, not theorize.' "

As the spring of 18 approached, Carl felt his health
failing. Dr. Corwin advised him to do less work but
how could he? He toiled on day after day, feeling many
an evening like he would rather lie down on the office
floor than go to his boarding-place. At times like
these there came to him a longing for a change of oc-
cupation, but the door of no other vocation was near at

136 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

hand. The Heavenly Father had especially fitted him
for and called him to this work, and Carl believed

" That failing the appointed task,
No further service he might ask.'

In March of this same year, Carl prepared and read
the following paper before the students of Dexter Nor-
mal School:

"THE TEACHER A FACTOR IN PROVIDENCE."

There is much in our existence here that is indefinite
and uncertain; but there are some things that are posi-
tive and do not admit of uncertainty. We are sure of
our existence; we are sure that the earth exists, and
that it is only one of many planets. We are sure that
order and harmony exist in the manifold works of
nature around us.

Reason is acknowledged by all scientists to be the
highest faculty of the human mind, and reason can ar-
rive at but one conclusion i:i respect to the above facts,
viz: that the worlds, with all their beauty of system and
harmony, must have come into existence through design,
and not by chance, and that design implies a designer;
and that design also implies purpose, for to design an
existence of any kind without the element of purpose
would be idiotic and ridiculous. The element of pur-
pose in creation, as well as in construction, means that
the minutest part has a purpose.

The old statement, so often made, "that the idea of
God is intuitive in the human soul," is pregnant with
truth yea, // is the truth. The history of all peoples
proves it.

There are two corollaries which necessarily follow the

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 137

proposition "that God exists." The first is, that God
created, understands, and upholds the universe by a
ceaseless putting forth of divine energy. Second, that
an ideal creator would not thus create, and uphold, and
control, without a mighty, omnipotent purpose a purpose
coextensive in magnitude with our highest conceptions
of love.

It should not be thought inconsistent and unreasona-
ble with this conception of God and the universe, that
the highest earthly intelligence, the human mind,
should attempt, by reason, by history, and by revela-
tion, to catch glimpses of the golden thread of divine
purpose, interwoven into the fabric of human existence.
Neither should it be considered presumption if, from
data of the past and a clear conception of the present,
one should step a little way into the future and see this
golden thread of providence in our own country's history,
and be able to see the human leaders of civilization,
the common school teachers, as factors in the hands of
the great Master and Teacher. To make such an attempt
is the object of this paper.

In the line of history, what can we say of the divine
hand of providence? As to natural position, we are in
the right latitude and under the right stars.

It is an oft-repeated fact that the history of the
world has been written between the parallels that
bound the north temperate zone. That wonderful
history of human discipline, The Forty Years' March
in the Wilderness," was in this latitude. Jesus of Naz-
areth wrought his miracles by this temperate sunlight.
The ancient tower of Babel stretched its unfinished sum-

138 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

mit toward the clouds within this zone; and we find the
most intelligent art of that scattered people, after a
lapse of years, rising higher and higher into intellectual
grandeur, in the peninsula of Greece. Homer first recited
the Iliad in this latitude. The battles of Marathon,
Plataea, and Salamis were fought between these lines.
Beneath these temperate stars was written that brilliant
page in Grecian history, in which Pericles fostered the
fine arts; and Grecian mothers gave birth to Socrates,
Plato, and Aristotle.

If we cross the Adriatic, in the same latitude, we may
see the temperate sunlight kissing the hill-tops of Italy.
Then will come rushing to our mind her wonderful
history a marble city, queen of the world, a Caesar and
a Cicero. We cross the Alps, and after the fifth century,
a Charlemagne gathers together the)' splintered fragments
of the western empire and binds i them into one. And
then comes the Norseman, disintegrating his empire
and infusing that heroic blood into the veins of Central
Europe, making her stronger and more invigorated.
Then follow the Crusades, the Reformation, the growth
and civilization of England all of which is written within
the boundaries of the north temperate zone, the latitude
and the climate which has fostered the civilization and
written the history of the world.

Now, is it not providential that our country lies with-
in the same latitude and is warmed by the same tem-
perate sun? This divine thread can be seen in the de-
velopment of the nations. Nations are developed just
as individuals are. Every individual who reaches nor-
mal maturity passes through five distinct stages of de-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 139

velopment : First, that o.f infancy, in which the child
necessarily depends entirely upon the wisdom of the parent.
It is a despotic existence. Second, is childhood, or disci-
pline of conscience. Third, youth, or development of
personal liberty. Fourth, discipline of will under social
law. Fifth, development of philanthropy.

It can be shown that our present civilization has
passed through all five of these stages of development.

Oriental civilization was one of absolute power. The
Hebrew civilization was one of the discipline of the
conscience. The Grecian civilization was one of per-
sonal liberty. The Roman civilization was a development
of will under social law. And, fifth and last, Christian
civilization corresponds to the full ripened manhood, the
age of active practical philanthropy.

These \vonderful facts could easily be bounded by
dates and fully illustrated by examples, and let it suf-
fice to say they stand out on the face of history so
plainly that we are compelled to admit that complete
Christian civilization is an element in the divine concep-
tion of the ages.

The history of our own country furnishes examples of
the divine hand in our own destiny.

Near the close of the fifteenth century, and during the
famous Moorish war of the Spanish peninsula, there had
settled in Lisbon the man who gave to the world a new
continent. While Ferdinand and Isabella were planning
campaigns against the Moors, Columbus was drawing
maps and bringing into existence the idea of the rotund-
ity of the earth. He was planning a campaign across
the Atlantic. There were some things connected with

140 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

this voyage which make transparent the hand of provi-
dence. The first volume of Irving' s history of Colum-
bus tells of that wonderful and mysterious swelling of
the ocean, the turning of the prow of the Pinta to the
southwest for almost a whole night. Had they kept
directly west at this time, they must have struck the
main land, and this country have been given to Spain.
Can you map out the history of our country if such a
thing had happened? Would not the noble civilization
which Christianity hcts achieved been bound and fettered
by an ecclesiastical priesthood? I believe that it
was the providence of God that sent that swell in the
ocean, and those birds in the air, and that directed the
hand of the pilot to turn the prow of the Pinta until
that little fleet looked to the southwest from west on
the eve of September 25, 1492.

The butchery of the Aztecs and the unhappy reign of
Montezuma seem, indeed, repellant to our modern civ-
ilization; but when we remember Jericho we can but see
the hand of providence wiping out forever the abomi-
nation of human sacrifice. Surely the nation has exist-
ed long enough, which can pile up in one ghostly heap
a hundred thousand human skulls as a monument of her
bloody altars.

God sent Joshua over the Jordan and Cortez across the
Gulf. There is a combination of circumstances inter-
woven into the history of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries which shows the handwriting of divine provi-
dence more clearly than that seen by the Babylonian court
of Belshazzar. Two hundred years before the landing
of the Pilgrims, type-printing was invented, and im-

BUCKEYE -HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 14!

mediately the presses of Gutenberg, Faust, and Caxton
are multiplying printed copies of the Bible. Just at
this time Constantinople was taken by the Turks, and the
Greeks are driven to the west, and with their language
they furnish the West the key to the proper understanding
of the New Testament. And thus Central Europe in the
early dawn of the new era began to see the chains bound
around her by the power of Rome. Then Martin Luther
appears, and you all know the history of the contest.

This is the time in the world's history when a new civil-
ization is bursting from embryo. Shall the new civil-
ization be left to develop upon the barren soil of Europe,
among the traditions and superstitions of the ages, or
shall we find it a new home?

New scenes, new associations, and travel are necessary
to broaden the intellect and give vivacity to action.
No two civilizations have ever occurred in the same
region. Abraham was called out, and so were the Pilgrim
Fathers.

A new civilization was born in Europe, but cradled in
America a land than which there is none other so lavish
and munificent in all the varied gifts which nature can
bestow in climate, fertility, and scenery. To suppose
that God has had no hand in all this is to suppose that
the greatest intelligence of the universe has forgotten
and neglected some of the mightiest conceptions of His
own handiwork.

There are two master ideas enthroned in the mind of
man. These are God and Liberty.

I wish to attempt to show that these two master ideas
have had unfettered growth only upon American soil.

142 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

God is love, and in its widest, deepest sense in the
sense of universal brotherhood.

Let us trace it down the ages through the muse of the
poet, and the fruitage will ripen only on American soil.
There is not a line in all the "Iliae" which expresses
that fine conception of love " Love your enemies." We
may call the poem a masterpiece of human genius, and
the poem of the ages, and yet it does not begin to grasp
that high ideal of the universal brotherhood. The
"Odyssey" is no better.

Virgil says: "For love is lord of all, and in all the
same;" but the next half-dozen lines betray his lack of
any holy conception of love.

Dante talks of love, but we know his world of love
was no larger than his passion for Beatrice,

Milton both "Lost and Regained Paradise," but in all
that beauty of language, and thought, and figure of
rhetoric, we do not find an exemplified "Golden Rule."

"Paradise Lost" may be called the sublimest epic, but
it is too rigid to be gentle, and too self-doctrinal to be kind
and brotherly.

And the world's greatest dramatist, Shakespeare!
But did Shakespeare ever write a drama equal to the
good Samaritan? But the conception of the good
Samaritan was not in American soil. True, it was not
conceived here, but here it fruited. Pll prove it by his-
tory. Who first gave the world this high ideal of love?
Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus was humanity at its climax,
plus the eternally divine. He was the great factor in
the divine purpose.

Before the seed which he had sown could develop, it

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 143

was seized by the strong arm of civil power and severally
bound to the state.

This, as you all know, was done in the time of Con-
stantine. I attempted to show that the human intellect,
so far as we can see, is the noblest work of the Creator;
that He has not neglected that work, but has a ceaseless,
watchful care over it. These facts were shown by his-
tory. And this civil power of the state nevre let
loose its grasp upon the church until Roger Williams
said on American soil, "Let every man worship God
according to the dictates of his own conscience."

Then and there was set free that noblest impulse of
the human soul, love love to God, love to humanity.
It still grows.

It has rooted out slavery, and as soon as we think as
much of our fellow-men and of humanity as we ought to
think, it will root out the rum power and make woman
the peer of man.

To return once more to our poets, and this time on
this side of the Atlantic. Longfellow comes to us all
with his balm of Gilead, and says:

"There is no death; what seems so is transition.

This life of mortal breath
Is but the suburb of the life elysian
Whose portals we call death."

How grandly sublime is Bryant's "Forest Hymn! 1
Here is a quotation from the "Song of the Sower:"

" The love that leads the willing spheres
Along the meandering track of years,
And watches o'er th&sparrow's nest,
Shall brood above thy winter's rest."

144 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

And our grand old seer, of whom every American is
proud- -John G. Whittier says:

" I know not where God's islands lift

Their fronded palms in air,
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care."

I have given these quotations simply to show that
American poets come into our homes, into the palaces of
our souls, and decorate the wall?, and put therein real
plants, with odor and blossom, so that when we look
out of the window, the landscape is softened and the
light is mellowed. And this is not strange, for Christian
themes and Christian ethics furnish the poet a wider
scope, and a purer air, and a holier light, than were fur-
nished before love and liberty were unbound.

If what has been said thus far in this paper is true; if
the universe is the handiwork of Omniscience, and not
of chance; if God is a God of purpose; if this "whole
creation moves toward one far-off divine event" -then
surely the American teacher, living as he does in the
best land under the stars, under the best government
known in history, and in the most enlightened world's
progress, becomes a factor in the hands of providence to
assist in bringing about the consummation of the divine
purpose.

We need a higher conception of the scope of our work.
We need an education of the heart and conscience, as well
as of the mind. We have been cowards in the past: we
have been afraid to hold up to our pupils the illustrious
characters of the Bible for fear we would be called sec-
tarian. We speak of Alexander, of Pericles, of Socra-

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-PIASTER 145

tes, of Plato, of Cicero, of Hannibal, of Napoleon, of
Homer, of Milton, of Byron, of Shakespeare; but we
blush if we happen to mention the name of Moses, or
Joseph, or David, or Daniel, or Paul.

I want to say, / believe it is all wrong, radically wrong.
Of what concern to the children of to-day are the battles
of Rome and Greece, and of how infinitely less concern
to them are the vain and false philosophies of the
buried ages?

The Bible gives us living characters. No classic is
the peer of the Bible, no system of ethics its equal, no
philosophy equal to the Sermon on the Mount.

If Jesus is divine, if he is the son of God, then his life
above all others should be impressed upon the lives of
the children of this nation; and we cannot leave this to
the home and the church; for many homes are depraved,
and the churches are creed-bound. Why should we leave
this to the home and church? Our objects as teachers
can only be to make better citizens; and what a nation
this would be if every citizen was doing his best to imi-
tate the Nazarene.

Answer me this: Did Jesus utter the truth or a false-
hood when he said, "I am the way, the truth, and the
life;" "I am the Good Shepherd;" "I am the door; "
"lam the vine;' "I am the resurrection; ' "I am Alpha
and Omega." The religion of the Bible stands as the
bulwark of this nation. It is the bone, fiber, and muscle
of this republic; and as American teachers we shall fail
to carry out our parts of the divine purpose unless we
build our work upon this basis.

This nation is destined to stand till the end of time,

146 BUCKEYE -HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

unless it falls by its own sins. The life of the republic
does not depend for a single day upon the tariff question,
or any other financial issue.

The great heart of humanity is heaving with the hope
of a brighter day. All the holier impulses of our better
natures prophesy of its near approach. We as teachers
are factors to help it on.

We are not to be discouraged. The cycles past teach
us that the "mills of God grind slowly, but they grind
exceedingly fine." I repeat that we are not to be dis-
couraged. All the combined evils of both earth and
hell cannot equal the power of the cross of Christ.

I remember standing on the back platform of a speed-
ing train as it receded from the base of Pike's Peak.
The glories of a setting sun bathed the mountain-top
in a flood of mellow light and tipped its summit with
a golden tinge, but the valleys were shrouded in dark-
ness.

The light from the Son of Righteousness has fallen
upon a few of the higher heads and hearts on the sum-
mit of humanity, and the foot-hills are still in the dark-
ness of ignorance; but the foot-hills are rising, and the
glory of the sun is rising too. The last fifty years have
marked more progress intellectual, scientific, political,
social, and religious than half of the centuries since
the beginning of the Christian era.

It takes time to work these changes; but time is a rel-
ative term. "To the boy frolicking in childish sports, a
thoughtless spendthrift of the golden moments, a cent-
ury is an eternity; but to a nation it is the babyhood of
existence the gray dawning of the morning of a day."

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 147

Former nations have given this world much in language,
much in art, much in bloodshed and cruelty. America
has set free the twin ideas of love and liberty, and
the blessings which flow from these, viz: free schools,
free church, free ballot, free speech, free press, charita-
ble institutions of all kinds, a liberal heart that knows
how to send food and clothing and money to an unfor-
tunate Dakota, to a burned Chicago, to a racked
Charleston, to an "inundated Johnstown. And why is
this? Simply because the power of the Nazarene is
felt in the hearts of the people.

I do not plead for sectarian dogmas in the school-
room, but I do plead that the life and character of Jesus
should be held up as the one great life of the ages.
And if this can be done by the American teachers in
connection with the other potent factors in the hand of
providence, this nation will be seen coming up out of
the darkness of the past ages crowned with beauty,
with perpetual fruitage, and with eternal sunshine.
And so the kingdom of Christian civilization growing
up through the ocean of sin and sorrow will come out at
last redeemed and glorified. And then will the American
teacher who has f :tthfully done his duty reap his re-
ward, whether in tfe^s life or in the life beyond, and
shall finally enter- into the enjoyment of "splendors
and symphonies and loves which eye has not seen,

nor ear heard, nor the heart felt."

CHAPTER XL

IN THE ROCKIES.

"Your peaks are beautiful
In the soft light of these serenest skies;
From the broad highland region, black with pine,

Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise,
Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves behold
In rosy flushes, on the virgin gold.

BRYANT.

When school closed in the spring of 18 Carl was
easily persuaded to take the advice of his physician and
personal friend, to spend the summer in the Rocky
Mountains.

Procuring a ninety-days' excursion ticket over the
Union Pacific road, he set out early in June for Denver.

After spending a few days in Denver, by the merest
accident he met his former pastor, Dr. J., who was on
his way to visit a brother at Camp Celestial, twenty-
five miles back of Boulder. Carl received and accepted
from the Doctor an invitation to accompany him on his
visit. They found his brother in a comfortable summer
residence at Camp Celestial.

After a few days of rest, the two brothers and Carl
and a guide started by team to Arapahoe. They had a
splendid team and were well equipped with blankets,

provisions, and fire-arms. Captain Mac acted as guide

148

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 149

and teamster. The route lay over mountains, through can-
yons, through the most beautiful groves of fir and pine.
Through almost every ravine a mountain torrent ran,
foaming, dashing, and rushing over its rocky bed, tell-
ing of the rapid dissolution of the mighty snow-fields
by which these streams are fed.

Arriving at Caribou in the middle of the afternoon,
they are informed by their guide that it will be neces-
sary to perform the rest of their journey on foot. Each
carried provisions or blankets. Carl carried two blank-
ets in a shawl-strap.

After some hard and rugged climbing, they reached
the timber-line, at an elevation of eleven thousand feet,
this being the limit of perpetual snow. Rare, delicate,
beautiful flowers bloom in rich profusion, where neither
snow nor rocks cover the soil. It was often possible to
reach forth the hand and gather enough of these blossoms
to form a bouquet while the feet still rested on the snow.

Here, where winter claims an eternal reign and
ever wears his snowy crown, nature puts him to defi-
ance driving the snow by mighty winds from the
mountain-ridge, and weaving over its face the richest
carpet of flowers. Snow Lake lay across the canyon
from the trail a beautiful, clear, crystal lake, which, by
the sun's last rays, mirrored in its bosom the rocky
mountain peaks, and sent forth from its side a silver
stream, which fell over the precipice and was lost in the
canyon below.

The raging waters, the snowy peaks, the murmuring
of the winds in the pines below them, and the setting
sun, gave, to a nature like Carl's a sensation of the

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

most ecstatic delight, mingled with awe and reverence
to Him who said: "Let the floods clap their hands, and
let the hills be joyful together."

As they proceeded up the mountain-side, the air grew
thinner, and more frequent rests were necessary.

During one of these resting-times, Carl could not re-
sist the temptation to enjoy a bit of boyish fun. So,
throwing down his bundle, he proceeded to roll down a
few bowlders; these went leaping, rushing, careering,
thundering down thousands of feet, until lost from sight
below timber limit.

The guide had cautioned Carl to watch his bundle.
Just as he and the others are starting on, suddenly a
mighty shout is heard, and they turn to look for Carl,
who is a hundred yards or more in the rear and in rapid
pursuit of an object which went leaping from rock to
rock. With almost equal celerity Carl followed, while
peal upon peal of laughter from the guide and his com-
panions made the mountains ring.

Smaller and smaller grew the moving objects as they
descended, until at last they disappeared from sight be-
hind an intervening precipice. They were not more
than out of sight before the quick firing of a revolver
was heard. They gazed intently down the mountain-
side, and a moment after saw Carl, several hundred yards
below them, appear around the precipice. And then
there came, wafted to the ear, Carl's voice, as he shouted:
"I have found it! I've found it!"

When Carl again joined the company, they declared
his blankets contained several bullet-holes, and pro-
nounced him a success after mountain-sheep.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 151

The moon had climbed above old "Baldy" ere the
company reached Lone Cabin, a rude structure formed
of pine logs and covered with bark and moss. "Hal-
lo! " said Captain Mac, and immediately the rude door
swung open, and ahead appeared. It was the head of the
'Wild Man of the Mountains." Captain Mac and he were
old-time friends. They had been together in the rebel
army, had repented their enlistment, deserted, and come
North.

Carl did not wonder that he was called the "Wild
Man of the Mountains." He was unshaven, unshorn,
and dressed in buckskin pants and red flannel shirt.

He gave them a hearty welcome, and, after a warm sup
per prepared by himself and Captain Mac, they spread
their blankets and lay down to sleep.

Every member of the little company was up before
the sun, on the following morning, and went forth into
the morning air to breathe its .freshness and listen to
the songs of the spring birds.

Breakfast over, the} 7 proceeded to execute the most
difficult part of their journey.

Captain Mac took their dinner-basket on his arm and
beckoned them to follow, and, with feelings of mingled
hopes, expectations, and fears, they obeyed. Up, up, they
toil; now they reach a great snow-bank, and crawling to
its edge, look down, down, over the awful precipice,
thousands of feet below. The thin air of the lofty height
is too much for Carl, and he is compelled to stop and
rest, and when he shuts his eyes he sees visions of him-
self tumbling down the sides of the mighty mountains.

Still onward and upward they press, leaving far be-

152 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

low them forests of silver pine, dizzy precipices, a pan-
orama of majestic peaks, whose heads were capped with
clouds. They reach the summit. Ah, when did man
ever purchase a richer reward at a smaller cost than they
had purchased in the sublime scene which spread out
before them ! Carl was aroused as never before in his
life. The man who could behold such a vision as was
now spread out before them in all its loveliness and
grandeur, unmoved, would certainly be of the earth
earthy.

To adore the Creator, to praise Him for His mighty
works, to feel an ineffable reverence for His holy name,
seemed only the natural emotion of the soul. After
drinking in the grandeur in one general view, Carl began
to question the guide.

"That lofty peak to the north," said Captain Mac, "is
Long's Peak; now look to the south, and those snowy
caps are the summits of James and Gray; look to the west-
ward you are looking at north, center, and south
parks. That blue line to the far west is the crest of
the Wasatch, three hundred miles away." Turning
again, "Yonder," he said, "is Denver, seventy-five
miles distant." The morning was clear and the atmos-
phere in the best condition possible to take in an
extended landscape. Toward noon they noticed a sin-
gular appearance upon a loft)'- mountain to the west.
It looked like a column of smoke Mac said they were
going to have a storm. He continued: "We are in the
home of the storm-king he sits on these mountains as
his throne. Out there the cloud not bigger than a man's
hand begins. These mountains are all electro-magnets.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 153

That mountain where you see the cloud will form the
storm and pitch it over to yonder peak. James will
toss it over to Arapahoe, which in turn will send it on
to Long's Peak. Long will give it a mighty cast down
to Pike, and Pike will send it to the plains." The clouds
grew, became dark, and illumined with lightning. It
stretched eastward until it spread like a mantle around
James' Peak, hiding it entirely from view; then it reach-
ed over until it was beneath their feet, shutting out the
scene below.

Carl marked how the upp'er surface resembled the
mighty ocean tumultuous with waves. They could
see the lightning and hear the thunder, but they were
above the storm, and on them the sun was shining
brightly fit symbol of those souls which in purity of
motive and action rise above the storm-clouds of
life's tempest and bathe in the sunlight of Heaven's
love.

When the company returned to Camp Celestial, Cap-
tain Mac was handed a letter mailed at Fort Benton,
Montana. It was from a brother whom he had supposed
dead, but who was alive, well, and wealthy, and who
wished Mac to come to him at once.

Mac decided to start for Helena by rail the next
morning, and Carl consented to accompany him.

Bidding adieu to the Johnson brothers, they set
out on the following morning, and, after a tiresome ride
of several days, reached Helena. Here they found it
would be necessary to stage it the rest of the way to
Fort Benton, a distance of one hundred and forty miles.
A ride of thirty-six straight hours in a regular tally-ho

154 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

coach ana four was to Carl's mind a delight he could
scarce have hoped for.

They learned that the road would take them through
Prickly Pear Canyon. After the first flush of pleasure
at thought of taking such a ride had passed through
Carl's mind, stories of stage robberies, road agents,
Younger brothers, and the like passed before his vision.
Then came thoughts of home, of parents, of loved ones
far away, of Dora oh! what would he not give to know
why she had never answered his letter!

The day for their departure at last arrived. Several
days in advance they had secured a seat on the outside
with the driver. Their fare amounted to twenty-three
dollars each, and no extra charge for sleeping accommoda-
tions, as they partook of that luxury as best they could,
either sitting, standing, or doubled up, as the case
might be. Carl had hopes of securing sleeping-quarters
in the boot, which lies under the driver's seat, and
which he was told by old-timers was quite comfortable.
When the day for departure arrived, Carl was ready
long before the hour of starting came.

Several stages were standing before the office in proc-
ess of loading, which is as mysterious as it is incom-
prehensible, for more can be stowed away to the square
inch in a coach, by an old hand, than tongue can tell,
or the mind of a tenderfoot conceive. Carl and Captain
Mac having discovered their coach, mounted beside the
driver, the good-natured, jolly, weather-beaten Jack Mc-
Dugal, famous as a story teller not liar as they dis-
covered after starting; and also quite a beau along the
lines.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 155

Captain Mac had laid in a large supply of cigars for
himself and driver; for all who smoke know what an
open sesame to a smoker's heart a good Havana is.

The summer morning was quite cool, and there were
some indications of rain, but Carl was provided with
both overcoat and water-proof. Car] and Captain Mac
were the only passengers on the top, the others having
been stowed away among boxes and packages inside.
Two of the passengers were ladies, who, Carl learned
afterward, were a mother and daughter from Cincinnati,
Ohio.

All things were ready, and Jack had clambered to his
seat, lighted a cigar furnished by Captain Mac, took up
his whip, and with a crack like the report of a "42,"
they were off like the wind. The motion of the coach
swaying on the long leather thorough-braces, is not un-
like that of a monstrous cradle, although more un-
steady and uncertain. The motion is much more pleas-
ant to those on the outside than to the inside passen-
gers the latter often suffering the worst pangs of sea-
sickness.

Swinging down around the foot of Mount Helena,
they were soon winding through a canyon, over a wild
and broken highway, toward Silver City afterward the
scene of one of the most cruel and cold-blooded mur-
ders, and one most quickly avenged.

Before arriving there they met the incoming coach,
and were notified that a lady passenger awaited them at
Silver City.

Carl noted the mutual friendship arising between Jack
and Captain Mac, as each spun his story for the benefit

156 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

of the other; but Carl himself was thoughtful and mel-
ancholy.

Captain Mac noticed this fact with much concern,
for it was so unlike Carl's usual buoyant spirits. He
knew that something unusual must have happened, and
he awaited an opportunity to make inquiry of Carl as
to the cause of his sadness. In the meanwhile his con-
versation with Jack did not lag, nor were the cigars left
unlighted.

Soon they espied the houses of Silver City, nestled
among the foot-hills, but offering scarcely space for
them to stretch their legs and walk about a little, pre-
paratory to another fifteen-mile ride, while a change of
horses was being made.

The new passenger proved to be a lady of the straw-
berry-blonde order fat, fair, and forty, if a day; she
was arrayed in Mother Goose ecru straw hat, with dark
blue ribbons and a pink flower, apparently all in the
first stages of newness, and of which she was evidently
very proud. Mr. Jack, as the ladies called him, man-
aged to stow her away somewhere in the already well-
packed coach. As they rolled away, they could hear a
voice like that of the grave-digger in Hamlet, exclaim at
every violent motion of the stage, "Oh, my hat ! oh, my
neck!" but where the neck was, Carl had failed to dis-
cover.

They were now entering the canyon, and the scenery
was grand beyond description. High above them on
either hand towered the lofty mountains, nature's bul-
warks, and from out the crevices where it would seem
no vegetation could exist, grew tall pines whose tops

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 157

seemed to pierce the blue of the summer sky. Below
them, now on the right and now on the left, glittering in
the sunlight like a band of burnished gold, again like
shimmering silver, ran a mountain stream, clear as crys-
tal. Carl's heart leaped within him, and his face bright-
ened, as he contemplated the beauties by which he was
surrounded; and his soul was filled with the deepest
reverence as he gazed upon the ever-changing landscape.
" The mountain ridges against the purple sky

Stand clear and strong with darkened rocks and dells:
The cloudless brightness opens wide and high

A home aerial, where thy presence dwells."

Still on they went, winding along the side of a mount-
ain, over a road so narrow that it seemed as though they
must be capsized. And as they looked down below them
upon the rocks and pines, Carl could not repress a shud-
der now and then. But Jack was a skillful driver, and
Carl soon threw his fears to the wind, and drank in the
beauty and grandeur about him. Occasionally, how-
ever, he was compelled to descend from his heights of
rapture, to listen to the narratives of Jack and Mac for
one who has for years driven a stage-coach through the
mountains has a wonderful fund of information, both
amusing and interesting, and Jack was not an Irishman
without the native wit.

From Jack's lips Carl picked up many choice bits
not found in history, which in after years he related in
the class-room, much to the refreshing of his classes.

The sun had now completely gained the mastery over
the clouds, and was rolling his way across the flecked
sky, scattering and dispelling the clouds, until soon the
heavens presented one unbroken dome of blue.

158 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

Carl sat silent and thoughtful; Captain Mac and Jack
had dispensed with their cigars, and each seemed
wrapped in his own meditations.

Finally Carl broke the silence by turning to Captain
Mac and saying:

"Captain, do you believe in dreams?"

The Captain was so absorbed in his own thoughts, that
it was necessary for Carl to repeat his question, which
he did hesitatingly, as if ashamed or afraid of being
considered superstitious.

"I cannot say I do/' said the Captain. "Why do
you ask?"

After a moment's thought Carl answered: "Let me
relate to you an incident, for I am certain you will be
interested."

"When I was a boy," continued Carl, "I knew and
loved a brown-eyed, brown-haired girl. Once I saved
her life. In youth my love grew stronger, and when
manhood came, I offered my ripened love for love. I
had every reason to believe she would accept it, but my
letter to her was lost; she never received it. Last even-
ing, in looking over the 'Helena Daily,' I read, under the
title 'A Defective Letter-Box/ a history of how through
a defective slot more than one hundred letters had been
lost among the dust of the old building. It was at that same
office that I mailed my letter. When I went to my room
I could not sleep; I lived over again all the scenes with
Dora, and thought how heartless she must have thought
me to leave her so abruptly and never to have written.
I sat down and wrote to her at once telling her all,
and cutting out the notice in the Daily to inclose with

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 159

my letter. Then I remembered she might be married,
and so I destroyed my letter.

"Again I threw myself on my bed, and vainly courted
the sleepy god. Toward morning I fell into a heavy
slumber and dreamed. I cannot tell where I was, for the
surroundings were new and strange to me; unknown
faces were about me; the sky became darkly overcast,
and the mutterings of a storm were heard in the dis-
tance; birds were fluttering about, calling to their mates,
and exhibiting the unmistakable signs of fear and im-
pending danger.

"Suddenly, above the tumult of the storm, I heard a cry
of one in distress. I listened, but no one else seemed to
hear; again I heard it, and this time I could distinguish
the words, 'Carl, Carl! save me!' I could move neither
hand nor foot. It was Dora's voice calling to me, but I
seemed riveted to the spot. In my struggles to move I
awakened; and I was sitting up on my bed trembling
from head to foot, and great drops of perspiration were on
my forehead. Such a hold did my dream take upon me
that sleep was now impossible, and I arose and dressed
myself, but could not banish it from my mind. I
firmly believe that I shall see Dora soon."

With this recital, Carl lapsed into silence, and Cap-
tain Mac, after looking sharply at him for a moment,
turned his face toward the snowy peaks on their left.

Jack was the first to speak. Taking out his watch, he
informed them they would soon be at Mitchell's Ranch,
where they would eat and rest.

Before reaching there, however, he pointed out to his
companions a beautiful little spot and said:

l6o BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

"There is where Captain Clark was massacred by the In-
dians. Captain Clark had come to Montana in a very early
day, and, like many others, had married an Indian wife, from
the Piegan tribe, and had settled in the Prickly Pear
Canyon. He had in a great measure supported his wife's
family until patience ceased to be a virtue, and he drove
them away. Becoming incensed at this treatment, a
party of them returned one day and shot him dead in the
presence of his wife and children. This was in 1869.
Helen P. Clark, one of his daughters, is probably one
of the best teachers and best educated half-breed women
in Montana. For many years she has been superinten-
dent of schools in Lewis and Clarke County. She is
now studying for the stage, and is quite an elocutionist."

"Mitchell's Ranch! All unload for dinner! ' was the
welcome call of Jack as he alighted from the stage; and
never was a call more welcome or a dinner better appre-
ciated. After an hour of rest they resumed their seats
and were off again. The day continued beautiful and
the scenery none the less magnificent, and Carl felt in
sympathy with the one who penned this sentiment:

" I live not in myself, but 1 become
Portion of that around me, and to me
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
Of human cities a torture."

This day, like all others, had its close, and they were
near ing Rock Creek, where they were to change horses
and drivers, eat supper, and take a little rest. The last
was much needed, for the passengers were sadly fatigued
from their long ride.

Within a few miles of the station, as they were travel-
ing leisurely along, each intent upon his own thoughts.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER l6l

a rattling, as of a vehicle being driven rapidly over the
rocky road, broke upon their ears; but they could see
nothing, as the road wound around the mountain.

"We're in a pickle," said Jack, "for we can't pass any-
body here."

Carl had not thought of this; but he at once saw the
truth of Jack's words.

The rattling now became louder and more distinct.

Suddenly there dawned upon them a sight which al-
most caused their hearts to cease beating; for directly
in front, and coming toward them, they saw a pair of
horses, wild with fright, attached to an open buggy in
which was a lady.

."Great Heavens! " said Carl; "she will be killed! "
And before a word could be said in reply, he was on the
ground and running at full speed toward the runaway
team.

Jack called to the ladies to jump from the coach, which
they did, and at once clambered upon the projecting
rocks out of the reach of danger. On came the madden-
ed creatures, while Carl stood like a statue awaiting
their approach.

Suddenly, above the tumult was heard the cry:

"Carl! save me!"

Carl grasped the bits of the near horse, and was
lifted from the ground.

Then horses and man went to the ground together.

Captain Mac was on the spot in a moment, expecting
to find the brave fellow killed; but Carl sprang up im-
mediately, and leaving Captain Mac to quiet the trem-

l62 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

bling, foam-covered horses, he was by the side of the
buggy, assisting the lady to alight.

"Carl!"

"Dora, you are safe."

But the shock was too great for her nerves, and she
fainted. The contents of a flask from Jack's pocket
soon restored her.

: 'Am I dreaming? Carl, where are you?"

"Here, Dora you are not dreaming, but you have had
a narrow escape."

Dora explained that she and her cousin had stopped
at Rock Creek for a drink, and while he had gone down
the hill to get it, the team became frightened at a flock
of sheep, and she could not hold them. Carl volun-
teered to drive her back to Rock Creek.

When alone, Carl said:

"Dora, how is it that you are here, and alone? I can-
not comprehend it."

She replied: "I am on my way to the Friends' Mission
to teach the Indians;" and after a pause she continued:
"Oh, Carl, I owe my life to you! How shall I ever repay
you?"

"I am already repaid," said Carl, "in knowing that
I have helped to prolong such a noble life. Here comes
your cousin, and I will relinquish my seat to him."

As the coach came up, Carl refused his seat, prefer-
ing to walk the rest of the way to Rock Creek, which
was now very near.

After supper Carl and Dora walked down the mountain
road alone. She clasped her hands around his arm, and
allowed him to assist and support her, as she was still

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 163

nervous from her fright. Carl felt that never before in
his life had he been so happy.

They reached a shelving rock on the hill-side, just
above the spring, and both were seated for a quiet talk,
and as the setting sun hone over them and glorified the
look of happiness on Dora's face, Carl had no words
with which to express the emotions that filled his heart.
So the sun sank lower, and the air from the mountain
grew chill, and Carl drew the fleecy shawl, which he had
carried on his arm, closer around Dora's shoulders.
Words were hardly needed, for eye and tone had told
the old story that is ever new, in the first few moments
that they were together.

It did not take long to explain all. Dora told him of
her anxious hours, and he told of his work in the West.
The air grew cooler, and they started to retrace their
steps.

As they came to a turn in the road, a wild rose-bush
hung, full of bloom, over a projecting bowlder. Dora
unclasped her hands from his arm, and plucked the in-
viting flowers, and with a few fern-leaves made a bou-
quet, and turning to Carl, she held them up and said:

"How beautiful! Shall I divide them with you?"

He stepped forward, and as he received them he kissed
the hand that presented them.

It was now time for them to return, as the stage would
start again in a few moments.

When they arrived at Rock Creek the coach was al-
ready in waiting. Carl bade Dora a hasty good-bye, and
was soon out of sight, around the mountain cliff.

Captain Mac found Carl more cheerful, but not more

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II' > .11

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:.' n ',',111' I Inn:' '( ' M!)J'. li;> j/j,,i |>n,

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feathers might easily have been f:<i'.'j f<>r ,-ii ) .. i ;ili;ilf
',/ <'! A-, t)j' / ' ;jnie i'' Hi'- }i'/i< I where I'M !>'<' ''^ )i;''i

i';f;ii'fly h';;ifl'-'l, ^,;itl CXJ)CCtcd linn lo HtOJ) ; hul .1'
ill'- I^'vtfyf -.liov/' '! HO '.!',"' '>J 'l'H/i;'_ '.'/, ^.;nl i/i'jmf'!

if li: ii;i'l changed In-, boarding pi;"- '1 1-' Doctoi

-'l, pirJntj;^ In'- )i;it on t)i \>:n V <>\ \n', |J-;M| ;>. l.<

'J |, y ,, I ':\\t)\i\<\ '.:>/ I }i:.'l l|i;.t c,, i }j;< ," ' t up
kf:^|)in^ fny.'Jf, :i/i'l t;il^-/i j/i ;i Mn."J' \,',:>t''.<t

.-it ' y>u married? ^M;I ott! us y^n
hand!"

WinJ't t}j-/ ivere shaking lj:n')-., -,\\< l \\' r,am< i;

Strong, :<n'J ;*) li'- \<-'.<t\' i \\ \/.<<\ Carl, )j ( - reached out In-,

}j;i/j'l, -,;iyi: "I t t;ilc- I" r there, bo 'I ' 1^1' I''/,

i v/.r. t-IJjn' ill' oJ-l

108

l66 EUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

you'd be back all safe, as the stars were all right when
you went away. T-t-take keer there, boys! I've been
a visitin' too, since you was here. I was in Des Moines,
a visitin' Uncle Jimmie DeMott. T-t-take keer there,
boys! They're the same eld couple yet."

Ezra and Mary welcomed Carl as though he had been
their own son, and that evening at supper he enjoyed
the waffles and tea with infinite delight; and when the
shades of evening had come and he ascended to his cham-
ber, he knelt down in the silence and poured forth a prayer
of thankfulness for his safe return, and for all the joy
that had come to his soul during his absence. And then he
added a petition for strength and vigor to carry forward
the work of the school-year to a successful termination.

When the old school-bell called again to duty, there
was not a vacant seat. The work for the term had been
carefully prepared by Carl before he went West; there-
fore the first day's work was just as effectual as any.
Carl felt his renewed strength and vigor, and also that
he had largely increased his stock of general knowledge.

It would be well if every teacher could find the time
and money to spend a vacation, now and then, as Carl
spent this one. It would add new life and vigor both
to mind and body. And that school board would be the
wisest who would pay such wages as would warrant the
teacher in making such summer tours.

To enter into the details of this year's work in
school would be but to repeat what has already been
written in these pages. That the work was well done,
I need but to mention that Carl was offered the position
again, and accepted it at an increased salary.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 167

When the May cherries were blushing again, and the
peonies were dropping their petals, Carl thought of his
long absence from home, and decided at once to return
and visit it. It would not now seem the same old home,
for a mother would not be there to greet him; but there
were other loved ones there; and the rocks, and hills,
and streams would be unchanged, and he would renew
their acquaintance once more. They would have for him
a thousand recollections, a thousand refreshings and
blessings. Carl's cultivated taste in perceiving the
beautiful and the sublime in nature had led him to be
favorably influenced by their ministries.

He had been led to see the supreme relation these
tastes and sensibilities bear to moral and spiritual life.
He could not tell the psychological reason why nature
made these ecstatic impressions. He had studied some-
what the laws of light and shade, and the mechanism of
vision; but he had learned that beyond this science
does not conduct us. The deep secrets, the divine
mysteries of our life and being, are forever hidden.
Carl could see that of proximate causes he knew noth-
ing. Even within the domain of consciousness and in-
tuitiveness, he found himself shut up within the limits
of observed and registered phenomena. He could not
get beyond their chronological relations and dependen-
cies, but on this account he did not love philosophy
less, but revered his own being more, and admired with
a deeper intensity universal nature, instinct with diver-
sity, and full of the secrets and mysteries of God.

Carl's psychological studies in trying to understand
hi c own being had led him to see, not only in himself,

1 68 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

but in every one, that long before the capacity to reason
is developed, or habits of reflection formed, deep-seated
in the soul of infant man is the love of the beautiful mani-
fest. Attractive objects to the infant eye, and simple
melodies to the infant ear, are as old as Cain, both to
civilized and uncivilized life.

Oh, teacher, here was Carl's greatest success leading
upward, upward, along God's pathway of endless beauty
and symmetry.

The Indian heard the roar of the great cataract, and
named it Niagara, " T/ie Water Thunder." He looked by
night into the bosom of a quiet river, and called it
Shenandoah, "Daughter of the Stars." The plashing of a
western river sounde i in his ear like the voice of mirth
and gladness, and he called it Minnehaha, "The Laugh-
ing Water."

What testimonies are these to the great fact that the
love of the beautiful is first, is always, is everywhere!

Carl believed that in childhood this love of the beauti-
ful was ever trying to gain despotic sway over the en-
tire soul. This to him was the supreme law of taste.
It demands that all things with which the human soul
has to do, material or immaterial, animate or inani-
mate, shall conform to some ideal of beauty; and it is
only after a continued warfare against this esthetic ele-
ment of our being, that it yields, and leaves the soul
a prey to selfishness and lust. In taking this view, Carl
could not conceive of a greater misfortune, save the utter
abandonment by the spirit cf God, that could befall a
human being in this present life, than that this love of
the beautiful should remain undeveloped.

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 1 69

Thanks to the Heavenly Father, this capacity of the
soul to drink in the beautiful has no relations to dol-
lars and cents, to interest-tables or discounts. It has
ao immediate relations to our animal life. We look
upon an opening rose-bud and feel that it is beautiful,
without thinking of its ultimate purpose in the economy
of the plant. This element of the soul is not the herit-
age of the rich alone. Thank God, beauty and sub-
limity, the soul's needed good, unhedged lie open in
life's common field, and bids all welcome to the vital
feast. Oh, teacher, wander with the children in this
common field! It is the river of life in this world;
its waters are for the healing of their child-troubles
and sorrows.

The morning for Carl's departure came, and as he
passed down the street, grip in hand, he met his old
friend Barney.

"Hello, Barney! I'm going away again; how are the
stars this time?"

"T-t-t-take keer there, boys! take keer S Dog my cuts,
Mr. McKenzie, if I didn't tell the old woman last night
that something unusual was goin' to happen, and here it
is. T-t-takekeer there, boys! there's a weddin' in it too,
somewhere. I know a thing or two. Old Barney hasn't
always had his eyes shut. I-I-I haven't lived always for
nothin'."

"Thank you, Barney; but I fear all you predict will
not be true at least in my case."

"T-t-take keer there, boys! the stars never lie mind
that, now! "

1 70 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

Carl gave Barney a warm shake of the hand, and bade
him good-bye.

The first man whom Carl met as he stepped off the
train at Cincinnati was Charles Dummond. He in-
formed Carl that he owned and operated the largest art
gallery in the city, but that he had long since ceased to
paint pictures in an old wood-shed, with pokeberry-
juice for paint.

Carl changed cars at Cincinnati, and as he took his
seat a fine-looking gentleman offered him his hand, and
said:

"You do not know me? Well, I am the boy who
swore on the ball-ground when you taught at Glady. "

Carl shook his hand warmly, and during their con-
versation he learned that James was traveling agent for
a school-furnishing company.

Dr. McKenzie met his son at the depot. It seemed
so long to them both since they had met.

He drove Carl to the country home of his daughter
Bess. The Doctor made his home there since the death
of his wife Jane. Carl marked the silver in his father's
hair, the lack of elasticity in his step; but the spirit
was as buoyant as ever, softened a little in a gentler
love.

During those happy June days, Carl and his father
lived over again the former life with gun and rod. But
Fido was not with them; he had died from snake-bite
long since.

The Doctor took infinite delight in hearing Carl tell
of the great West, and many times expressed a desire to
visit it; and Carl determined in his own mind that, if

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER I'JI

the Heavenly Father permitted, that desire should be
fully realized.

Carl spent a day at the academy at M. He learned
while there that Prof. Moon was president of a college
in Eastern Ohio; that his room-mate, Nolder, was a
practicing physician in the city of Chicago; that Mr.
Ousley was in the employ of the United States as civil
engineer.

The first Sabbath morning dawned with a cloudless
sky. The trees were perfect, robed in their new foliage
and fair luxuriance. The bees hum about the clover.
The bob-white, from his perch upon the rail, calls to his
mate. A solemn stillness reigns. It was

"A morn when all the hedgerows glimmer white

With summer snows, scattered by hawthorn flowers;
A morn when Nature trembles with delight,

And love is lingering in the golden hours,
And hiding 'mongst the purple shades that lie
Where the dim forest fringes meet the bending sky."

Carl and Bess have woven a garland of smilax and
pansies, and are wending their way across the field and
through the woodland to a quiet little cemetery, beauti-
fully located on a mound of more than an acre, and
neatly kept. There their mother sleeps. As they walk
along Bess relates to him all the story of her sickness,
suffering, and final victory in death.

As they approach nearer they walk in silence. Carl
lifts the latch to the little gate, they enter, and Bess
takes his arm and leads the way. As they approach
the grave both kneel down, and the garland is placed on
the head of the grave. The thoughts that come to Carl
at this hour are too sacred for these pages.

172 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

There is a chamber in life's halls where God and
self alone may enter and commune together. The doors
to that chamber are widest open to the Father when
sorrow is the deepest: "Behold, I stand at the door and
knock." May it not be that sorrow comes often because
we will not hear, and will not open?

The grave was overgrown with myrtle. Carl gathered
a few leaves to carry away and keep. They start back
to the little gate, and not a word is spoken; before they
reach it Carl stops and turns around to look again.
He puts an arm around his sister, leans his head on her
shoulder and weeps.

Again they turn, and pass out the little gate, silent at
first; but gradually the veil of sorrow lifts. The spirit
has mellowed and sweetened the soul, and life is more
blessed. "Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be
comforted." They stop on the way to enjoy the cool
breezes under the shade of a spreading chestnut. Carl
related to Bess the incidents connected with his journey-
ing in the mountains, and his strange but happy meet-
ing with Dora; and Bess enters into full sympathy
with him in all his experiences. He informed her that
he expected Dora to come to Ohio in a few clays and
that she might guess the rest.

Again they wandered on, and it was high noon when
they reached home. During the afternoon of that Sab-
bath, Carl accompanied the Doctor in a visit to see a
patient; but when evening came Carl felt that he would
like to be alone, and recall the events not only of the
day, but of the long, long past. On the hill-side he
found a jutting rock and sat down. It is well for the

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 173

soul at times to claim a season of meditation when
evening folds her drooping wings, and let your soul be
won to reverence and love by the subdued glories of the
dying day. No hour like that which immediately succeeds
the setting of the sun on a calm summer evening! The
shadows gradually deepen in the woodland, and darkness
gathers in the valleys; the birds close their vesper hymn;
one by one the bright stars appear, and slowly and gently
the night, cool and dewy, comes down with a holy
stillness upon the world. It is hard to conceive how
Heaven itself can be more divinely beautiful!

Carl sat wedded to the beauties of the stilly night
long after the lights went out in the home he had just
left.

He sat and listened to the voices that whispered to
his soul of the days gone and of those to come. They
were not specters, those voices, but angels with mes-
sages of love; and as he sat and listened to the night
wind that murmured among the trees near by, or the
hoarser moaning through the swaying trees of the dis-
tant forest as the wind arose, he thought of the infinite
and omniscient spirit whose presence was his safety
and his life, and his enfranchised soul ascended to claim
its part in the rejoicing suns and circling worlds that
chant their battle anthems in the deeps of heaven.

On the following morning Carl received this missive:

"HOME, June , 18
"DEAR CARL:

"The roses are in bloom, and the placid waters of the
river await the disturbing oar. DORA."

Carl answered this note in person the same evening.

174 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER

For the few following weeks he was often at the Durh
dore home. Then there was a quiet wedding, and,
shortly after, Carl, accompanied by Dora, returned toD.,
where a neat little cottage home awaited them, and
where Dora was a constant help and sympathizer with
Carl in all his school -work, and where evening after
evening they entertained Carl's senior class, in their so-
cial and literary efforts. It was a home where all found
their welcome, and where the sad at heart found bur-
dens of care lifted by kind and sympathetic words. So-
ciety at D. found in Dora just that friend it needed not
an arrogant, selfish, flippant daughter of fashion, but a
warm-hearted, cultured, earnest Christian worker, whose
mind and heart was ever fertile with helpful word and
practical suggestion.

Next morning after their return to D., as Carl was
walking down town, he was startled by the voice of a
person not seen but near by: 'T-t-t-take keer there, boys!
Takekeer! I knew them 'ere stars wouldn't lie. T-t-t-take
keer there now, boys! Last week, when the old woman and
me was pullin' a mess of roastin'-ears, Old Barney just
wheeled right over, and the old woman thought I'd gone;
and when she turned me over, I opened my eyes and
said, 'T-t-take keer there, boys! Old Barney han't a-goin'
yet.'"

"Well, Barney, will we have an early winter?"

"T-t-take keer there ! The sweet potato vines are in
full bloom, and that's a sure sign of late fall and winter."

Carl and Dora labored together for many years in this
happy home in D. But Carl felt the need of a change
of climate and occupation. They had been frugal and

BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER 175

saving, and had amassed enough to build them a comfort-
able home on the property owned at Los Angeles, Cali-
fornia.

And now, my reader, as I approach the last pages of
this little volume, I ask you to pass over several years
and go with me to a beautiful home a little south of
Los Angeles. Picture to yourself a high table-land, fer-
tile as a garden, with orchards of pear and quince, grape
and apricot, peach and plum. Look to the north or to
the south, and snowy mountai-peaks meet your gaze.
Look to the east, and long avenues of orange trees invite
your steps, and their golden fruit tempt your appetite.
Look beyond the beautiful lawn in front, and to the
west, and "old ocean's gray and melancholy waste" meets
your view. Bring your eyes back to the lawn. In the cen-
ter is a fountain sending its silver spray high in the air.
From its base white pebbled walks radiate in eight di-
rections, as if to meet the angles of an octagon. These
walks are lined with the most delicate flowers and foli-
age plants; oleander and rhododendrons are interspersed
here and there, and the closely mown sward feels like
a carpet to the feet.

The residence is modern in structure, but is more con-
venient than palatial, more useful than elegant.

This is the home of Dora and Carl. Here is where
they hold sweet converse with nature. Here is where
they look out on the beauties of God's world, when the
morning breaks and the curtain of night is slowly lift
ing. Here is where they hear the first notes of the robin,
and inhale the sweet odor of the orange blossom. This
is not a home of luxuriant, dissipated ease, but it is a

176 BUCKEYE-HAWKEYE SCHOOL-MASTER.

home of cheerful, active employment, interspersed with
the comforts of repose.

As I sit and pen these lines, and look out upon old
ocean and hear its distant dashings and murmurings as
the tide comes in, the white sail upon its bosom is a
silent reminder that we are all, all, on the ocean of time,
and these lines of VVhittier come to me most forcibly:

"I know not where God's islands lift

Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care."

And a sentence comes down over the centuries and
cheers my soul: "In my father's house are many man-
sions."

And now I hear the patter of childish feet on the stair-
way; the door is gently pushed aside, and Blanche and
Paul have come to call me to the evening meal. They
take each a hand, and we descend.

Dr. McKenzie, with his cheerful face and silvered
beard, stands at the head of the table. I take my place
On his right; Dora, with baby Lavinia in her arms, oppo-
site to me, with a face radiant with the bloom of health,
contentment, and love; Blanche goes to my right, and
Paul to Dora's left. We sit the Doctor raises his voice
in simple thanksgiving. The last rays of a sinking sun
throw a mellow light upon the happy group. Let us
leave them to the enjoyment of their repast and the rare
delights of a happy home.

THE END.

JUN 4 ' 44