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sad occurrence. My mind wandered off to
the lonely little ranch, hid away in the
hollows of the valley beyond. I saw the
tired, overworked mother, battling with her
accumulation of domestic cares—too busy,
too weary, for the time, tn think of the lit
tle one, who had, perhaps, been thrust un
timely from her arms in order to make
room for a lesser one. I imagined the con
sternation with which she, with her mother
instinct, at length realized the unusual ab
sence of demands upon her which she was
wont to deem irksome. Missing the accus
tomed patter of little feet, and the clatter of a
restless little tongue, she had found time,
during a temporary lull of her ceaseless
toil, to look up and .ask in dismay—
“ Where’s Totsy? ”
“ Pshaw ! ” I laughed in grim mirth at
the name I had invented. “I am growing
morbid! ” and I turned in, hoping to drown
my painful thoughts in sleep—that ever
present resource of camp-life; but, this
time, even sleep forsook me! No sooner
did I fall into a restless doze, than I was
aroused by a cry from the ghost of my own
creating:
“ Go! go out and find Totsy. Totsy is
out in the cold; quick! go and save him
from the hungry wolves.”
At length, weary of tossing, I dressed
and went out into the night; several hours
after, reveille overtook me, wandering aim
lessly about the parade.
So soon as practicable, I made inquiries
at the office and learned—what I might have
well known, but for my restlessness—that
no report had as yet returned from the
scouts. I immediately made application for
a permit to join the party, but was advised
to await the report, which must inevitably
come in during the course of the day.
Forced to content myself, though with an
ill grace, I set about my routine duties in a
listless, perfunctory sort of way. Ever and
anon throughout the tedious day, thoughts
of the missing child would intrude upon
my every occupation, despite my deter
mined efforts to banish them.
“He will be found, he will be found! ”
I urged, again and again, endeavoring to
reassure my distressing misgivings. “He
will be found; so small a child could not
wander far,” and I smiled to think how
completely I had identified the child of un
known age with my own little ideal
“ Totsy.” Many a tramp did I take,
through the dull morning, to the hill be
yond the barracks, hoping to catch the first
glimpse of the laggard courier, whose con
tinued delay bred mingled hope and dis
trust.
If was well nigh night, and I was well
nigh sick at heart, when the report finally
came in bringing its discouraging tidings.
The chief of scouts had only to report
the discovery of a few tiny foot-prints as
the result of his day’s untiring search.
Again I proffered my application for per
mit to join the scouts, and was met by the
prompt order, that I, together with two
more officers and forty men, and all of the
remaining scouts, were to start at daylight
to join in the search.
As soon as it was light on the following
morning, our little band set forth; volun
teers of Indians and cowboys attaching to
us at every turn, as the nature of our
errand became noised abroad. Once ar
rived at the ranch, it needed but one look
of mute appeal from the tearful eyes of the
jaded mother, to fan to white heat the zeal
for rescue already kindled in the breasts of
our gallant men. G athering the little that
was known of the missing child’s flight, we
proceeded, with military promptness and
precision, to institute the search. A circle
with a radius of five miles, centering at the
ranch, was thrown out, and each man as
signed his several duty.
The conviction was uppermost in every
mind, that so small a child (he proved to
be only two-and-a-half years old) could
not have wandered far, and no one doubted
that ho would be found sooner or later;
perhaps, alas! too late! in some cleft, under
some heap of grass or bushes, or at the foot
of some cliff, within a few miles of the
ranch.
A little dog, owned and petted by the
child, was also said to be missing, and it
was thought the two truants were together,
wherever they might be. * We relied much
on the agency of the dog as a means of
finding the child, believing that its atten
tion would be most readily attracted by
approaching parties.
Though every heart was thoroughly en
listed in the search; though no literal stone
was left unturned; though no step flagged,
no zeal wavered, the day waned, and no
trace of the boy could be found, save a few
more foot prints in the neighborhood of
those discovered the day before. The light
step of the child had left no impress, except
upon soft, sandy soil, which was rare in
this rocky region. In one place, near
where the foot-prints were seen, was also
visible the fresh trail of a wagon, that had
been drawn off the main road for a dis
tance, and returned to it further on. In
the utter absence of any other trace of the
child, we were forced to accept this circum
stance as evidence that the boy had been
A
H
picked up by emigrants or hunters; barring
the harrowing possibility of his having
been carried off by wolves, whose tracks
were also discovered in the locality.
We projected the search far into the
night, but, finding nothing to hinge a hope
upon, we returned to the post, reluctant
but despondent.
Scarcely had we time, after reaching the
post, to tell the story of our unsuccess, ere
there came, in hot haste, a cowboy, bearing
the report of fresh traces of the lost child
—found still further out from the ranch.
Whereupon, the commanding officer
promptly ordered out all the men that
could be mounted.
At daylight on the morning of the third
day, our little command took the field,
swelling to the proportions of a small army
as we proceeded, by the gradual accretion
of curious Indians and kindly cowboys.
Silently, almost sadly, we took our way
down the winding, rocky road, back to the
desolate ranch, back to the scene of our
former defeat.
Once more the circle of search was
thrown out, now to the extent of twelve
miles, in order that it might reach the
utmost limit of possibility, and we resumed
the search with renewed zeal and vigor.
If our quest had been diligent before, it
was exhaustive to-day; for in every mind
lurked the conviction, that, if still alive, the
boy must be rescued now, or his frail being
would succumb to the rigors and privations
of protracted wandering.
Climbing, scrambling, floundering down
rocky canyons, among banks of tangled un
derbrush, through seas of matted grama
grass, ever calling to the child, or whistling
to the dog, went the members of our troop
on this raid—so novel in its nature, so dis
tressing in its cause and character.
“O, little Totsy! ” I cried, in the bitter
ness of disappointment and suspense, “does
some dire misgiving of this vast army of
‘sojers’—at once the admiration and the
terror of your boyish baby heart—follow
ing in urgent pursuit of your little fleeing
feet, cause your tender heart to quail, your
tottering steps to quicken, or your ex
hausted frame to shrink within some un
suspected hiding place ? ”
Tracks of animals we found in places,—
of coyote, wolves, prairie-dogs,—but not
even the practiced eyes of our Indian
scouts could distinguish one that might be
long to the little dog. In places, were
found remains of recent Indian bivouacs;
and it needed but to note the crafty, snake
like creatures, following us in enforced
allegiance, to divine the fate of any hapless
babe who might chance to fall into the
dastardly clutches of that treacherous
tribe.
Night came on, and still the fate of un
success was depicted on each face as we
gathered for a final consultation. All, with
one accord, agreed that the search must be
abandoned permanently, accepting through
force of our only evidence, the hopeful
theory of the rescuing emigrant wagon; or
if must be, the more cruel one of the
wolves. Silently I acquiesced in the gen
eral decision, but, when the final prepara
tions for return were completed, I an
nounced my intention to remain and con
tinue the search alone, for I could not
bring myself to give up a second time, un
less something more than circumstantial
evidence could be produced of the boy’s
ultimate fate. Stoutly withstanding all
efforts at dissuasion, I proceeded to equip
myself for what was deemed my Quixotic
expedition. Several of my faithful men,
unwilling to desert me, insisted upon re
maining, though they thought me unwise,
and strongly I urged them to depart.
“ Faint, yet pursuing,” non-plussed and
disheartened, but undaunted, our little
band of half-a-score, again took the field,
after resting an hour to await moon-rise.
Striding on through the darkness, look
ing this way and that, intent alone upon
the object of my search, I soon found that
I had outstripped my companions, or else
lost sight of them in the surrounding gloom.
Wandering thus, alone, through this wild,
weird region, ever and anon would a sense
of the uncanny steal upon me, irresistibly.
What a haunt were this for witches, gob
lins, demons! Think of the tender babe,
exposed for such a time to such terrors!
Yet ’twas no childish superstition that held
my hand ever ready to grasp a weapon.
Devils, no doubt, entered into my conjec
tures, as I stealthily loosed my pistol from
its belt at every crashing of twigs or rattle
of stones, as I proceeded; but, ’twas of the
kind that war against the body; the kind
that wears a redskin and wields a toma
ha wk ever ready to crash into the brain of
any hapless white man who strays alone
into the presence of the noble (?) savage.
Rambling on, turning to right or to left,
as some possible hiding place invited me, I
was finally brought to the brink of a
gloomy, forbidding canyon. The moon was
now high overhead, and every threatening
crag along the precipitous sides, intruded
itself boldly on the sight. At the bottom,
the dismal gorge appeared a mingled mass
of rock, stubble ana brush. Standing for a
moment irresolute, I pondered—reluctant
to brave by night a descent that were
perilous even by day, yet unwilling to pass
by a spot where success might await me.
Then, turning abruptly aside—
“ Baby feet never scaled that steep! ” I
exclaimed aloud, in the strength of final
conviction. Suddenly, a scudding sound
in the underbrush at my feet, startled me,
and I retreatd a step, my hand grasping
my revolver. The noise ceased and, after
a moment’s intent listening, I started on,
saying, again aloud:
“Some prairie-dog, or coyote, perhaps,
frightened by the sound of my voice.”
Instantly came the scurrying again, and
a white object flashed before my eyes.
“White!” I exclaimed, “an unusual
color for this locality!”
W hile I spoke, the little animal, such it
proved—with a swerving movement,dashed
up in front of me. Involuntarily I uttered
a low whistle; it ran to me, whined and
rubbed against my leg.
“The child’s dog!” I cried, in mingled
ecstacy and dismay. “What now ?”
As if startled by the vehemence of my
cry, the dog sped off into the gloom of the
canyon. With one precipitate bound I fol
lowed. Down, I tumbled I and which
reached the bottom first—l, the dog, or the
great stone that crushed my foot, I never
knew; but I did know that the search
must be continued on all-fours! Again, I
whistled to the dog, meanwhile fumbling
about in the dark for my lost lantern. He
returned, and I devoted several minutes to
caressing him, hoping thus to insure his
allegiance.
Quickly recalling the dog’s name, as we
had learned it at the ranch, and also the
real one of little Totsy, I tested the force
of these familiar epithets to arouse the ener
gies of the poor famished animal, who
now, the spur of fear removed, could only
cuddle against me for comfort.
“Where’s the baby, Tim ? Go and find’
Danny!”
As if with one last spurt of vital force,
he disappeared again in the bushes, while
I crawled in his wake as best I could. By
dint of repeated setting on and recalling, I
managed to make out a course of sufficient
directness to inspire confidence in the dog
as a guide; though I found it hard to be
lieve that any human foot, far less that of
a little babe, had ever tracked the rough,
desolate wild through which I, perforce,
clambered.
Painfully I labored for more than one
hour; then, falling upon a bank of grass,
I surrendered myself for a moment to des
pair; the little dog crept up and I nestled
against me as if in sympathy. Suddenly
he started up, sniffed the air, and with a
peculiar yelp, dived into the clump of
grass. With one superhuman wrench I
parted the knotted snarl, and there, lying
just beyond—
“O, my God! the child! dead, dead,
dead!” and I sank down exhausted, the
stimulus of hope renewed, but for a mo
ment only. A slight rustle aroused me.
Was it the dog ? I bent over the insen
sible form, my hand upon the heart; there
was warmth and a feeble pulsation. I
gathered the babe to my breast, praising
God!
Well, we all have our foretastes of
heaven; that was mine, but not my only
one.
It was but brief work to summon my
men with several shots from my pistol—a
signal that might have availed me much,
had I only thought of it sooner. We
were soon on our way to the ranch, ly
ing on a rudely constructed litter, with the
still unconscious babe gathered closely in
my arms, while the faithful Tim cuddled
confidingly at my side.
When I really saw heaven open, was as I
laid the boy in the arms of his mother—
I saw it in her eyes! I. S. H.
For Woman’s Work.
DIOGENES.
“Tat in a tub, Uncle?”
“Just so.”
“Was he dirty?” asked Nell, aged four.
I laughed and made a stroke through
her yellow curls. “He was a freak,” said I.
“A what?”
“A freak, an oddity. He used to carry a
lantern, and go hunting around for an
honest man among his acquaintances.”
“My! that would make me mad if I
knew him,” cried Ned, hotly.
“I wonder how you would have relished
being treated as the great general, Alexan
der, was ?” said I.
“How was that? Oh, Nellie, let him
alone; how can he tell it if you keep platting
his whiskers? Put her down, Uncle.”
But Nell and I were not disposed to
part.
“Goon the best you can then,” said Ned,
resignedly, tying a bit of paper on Timothy
Totadoodle’s tail, as a quiet way of decoy
ing Nell.
“Alexander,” said I, watching poor
pussy’s antics, “was tremendously fond of
his pets, Ned. Ho had a horse and dog
which he loved so well that he named
cities after them. Catch him tying things
on to worry them I”
“Oh!” shrieked Nell, suddenly discover
ing what was being done to her treasure.
“Neddie, please don’t. I’ll give you the
wooden soldier with the red coat if you’ll
please stop. Oh! and I asked him so
pretty,” this to me, with appealing, indig
nant eyes, as Ned grimly kept his hold.
“Come get it then,” he said.
I felt the little arms tighten round my
neck. She wanted her cat, and she wanted
me. Ned squeezed gently, and a plaintive
mew went to the little mistress’ heart and
I was deserted, but only for a moment;
then she, Timothy Totadoodles, paper and
all, were deposited on me again, with a
great sigh of comfort—and 1 laughed at
Ned’s cloudy brows.
“That kind of teasing never pays, Ned
my boy,” said I, pulling at his curly pate.
“It was the sort of honest man that never
did mean things to his neighbors that old
Di went searching for. Now if you will,
get a smile, double quick, on that little
face of yours, I’ll tell you how he treated
Alexander.”
The corners of his mouth screwed up a
little, and dear little Nell, watching him,
smiled genially, and pouted her red lips
lovingly, and even extended Tim’s yellow
and white head as a mark of perfect recon
ciliation. Being a repentant little Chap at
heart, he caressed them both and peace
was restored.
“Well,” I continued, placing my limbs
a little more comfortably, to hold the added
weight of master Totadoodles, “Alexander,
as I said, was a mighty General. He sub
dued so many nations that, at last, he
sighed because he hadn’t more worlds to
conquer. Think of that, little fellow. Os
a'SUU.O everybody made a tremendous fuss
him. Philosophers, and astrologers,
J wise old men, flocked to do
hh.-inonor, but not a bit of an appearance
did Diogenes put in. So, bless your hearts,
Alexa?.'Ser’s curiosity couldn’t stand it,
and he batook him to see the old cynic
for himself”
“What’s a cynic?” asked Nell.
“A cross grained old fellow, with very
strong opinions of his own.”
“Were Dodgees grains crossed?”
“Crossed and recrossed. Think of him
saying to the magnificent hero who had
had kings and princesses to bow before him—
in answer to his question ‘what service can
I render?’—‘stand from between me and
the sun.’ '’
“Mercy ! what did he mean ?”
“Simply that Alexander, halting before
his old tub, to put his very civil question,
happened to throw a shadow over him.”
“I hope Alexander let fly at him,” said
Ned with more vigor than eloquence.
“Did he?” asked Nell.
“Not he; he was so tickled at the oddity
of it, that he said ‘lf I were not Alexander
I would wish to be Diogenes;’ they made
friends on the spot, and, being a lavish fel
low generally, he heaped all sorts of gifts
on the old Diogenes.”
“You like Mr. Alexander the best, don’t
you?” asked Nell gravely. “Now I think
Dodgees is nice, ’cause he’s so funny; I
guess I’ll change Snap’s name to Dodgees.
Dodgees made himself snap, and if I make
Snap Dodgees they’ll be alike, won’t they?”
The little maid received my shouts of
laughter half doubtfully.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, only why not call Snap Peri
tas, after a real dog of Alexander’s?”
“Oh! tell us about that, and his horse,
Uncle, please do,” cried Ned.
“Not to-night. Here comes Marie, little
wide-awake, to take you to sleepy town.”
“I’d just love to stay a little longer,”
said Nell wistfully.
“And I’d like to hear about the horse,”
said Ned; “what’s its name?”
“Bucephalus; its a fine story; I’ll tell
it to you some other time—kiss me now and
pleasant dreams.”
Anna Whittier Wendell.
Bane of good housekeeping, from whence com
estthou?
Thy infinitestimal atoms are formed when and
how?
Thou art older than man, in the good book we
learn
Man was made from dust and to dust must re
turn.
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