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A BAPTISM OF FIRE.
(Continued from page 7.)
sound around my head and limbs this
increased to a wild, poisoned hate.
Then so rthe first time I remember
ed my revolver. With bungling fin
gers I unholstered it, and, turning,
fired six rapid shots. One man clap
ped his hands to his face, screamed
shrilly like a child, and pitched to
the earth, his pigtail swinging up in
the air as though it had been a black
whiplash. I had it in me to have leap
ed on that man had I been near him
and crushing the remaining life out
■of him with bare hands, arid then
have kicked and offered insults to his
dead body. I was no longer a French
gentleman then; I was a savage beast,
lustful to tear my enemies’ throat.
I turned and fled on, the breath
-coming in thick, sobbing pants. A
whole fusilade of vengeful shots were
exchanged in return, but none of them
found a billet in me, and I laughed
aloud in triumph. Whatever happened
now, I had killed my own weight of
■enemy.
But, as I say, I wanted desperately
to do more, and now that the paraly
sis of terror and excitement had flash
ed away my mind was beginning to
work with craft and cunning. Ahead
of me, and running athwart my course,
was a muddy wallow they called the
road, and wh ; ch our troops had pass
ed along barely three hours before to
the capture of the village. To the
left were the French lines and safety.
Tn front, and a ball’s throw beyond
the road, was the yellow, turbid stream
■of the river.
It was impossible to reach the camp
even had I wished it. The Black Flag
had anticipated the move and had de
tailed off a party to outflank me in
that direction. By turning off to the
r’ght I might very well bring down
the enemy upon our expeditionay force
•on their march back from the village.
They might be prepared to receive
them, and again they might not, and
I would have died ten times sooner
than any move of mine for my own
safety should bring disaster on my
comrades. Our branch of the service
gets-sneered at enough as it is.
So I raced on for the road and
passed it and labored down to the
river. The shots came fast and thick
now, and two more bullets grazed me,
but I waded through the shallows
without further hurt and gained the
■deep, tawny river beyond.
A sampan was moored a hundred
yards out and a little downstream. I
made for it with long, bursting dives.
There were half a dozen men on board,
jumping, gesticulating and crying
warn’ngs, and once when I came up
from an underwater swim one of them
let fly a matchlock at me. I saw him
blow his smoking fuse and fire. It
was loaded with birdshot, but I was
too close for the charge to scatter and
so it all missed me.
Another dive and I was upon them
and they me with knife stabs
and how the fight turned here I could
not tell. But of a sudden, with a blink
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and a gasp and a downward blow, I
came by my wits again, and found that
I was on board the sampan with a curv
ed Chinese sword in my hand; and one
man lay dead and bleeding at my feet,
another was dead and floating face
downward with the current astern. And
the rest were swimming to the shore,
and twenty Black Flags were firing
over their heads as fast as they could.
My pistol was gone ants I could do
no more on the offensive. The wish
for fight had left me; the lust for life
alone remained. I cut the printer and
lay on the sampan’s bottom, whilst
she drifted down with the current
into our own lines.
And yet my officers were pleased to
call me brave, and the general gave
me the war medal. Itried to refuse
it, but they laughed at me. A vedette,
it seemed, had watched me through a
glas sfrom the moment of the first
shot being fired, and they said no man
could have behaved more pluckily.—■
Anon.
AMELIA’S PRESENTIMENT.
FOR forty-eight hours preceding the
fifteenth day of April—Amelia’s
wedding day—rain had fallen in tor
rents, swelling Willow Creek —a deep,
narrow stream, until it flowed over its
banks and almost out to the high,
rocky terrace from which projected
the two bridges that spanned the
gorge. One of the bridges, recently
built, was a light iron structure, the
others was old, strongly built and
seemingly sound, but it was feared
by some that its timbers were de
cayed.
The morning of the fifteenth dawn
ed brightly. The sun rays parted the
clouds and a light breeze bore them
away. The flowers, freshened by the
rain, lifted their heads skyward, the
birds trilled out from among the wet
foliage.
Amelia looked from the open window
towards the swollen creek. Her face
was pale and anxious. Her girl com
panions gathered around her, trying
to cheer her.
“See; what a good omen!” cried
Mary Brownlee, her closest friend.
“The sun shines out, the clouds are
departing. Let the cloud vanish from
your face too, dear. Forget that idle
presentiment. Randall will be here
within an hour; don’t let him find his
bride on the verge of tears.”
Amelia turned from the window and
faced her friend. “I wish I could be
lieve it is an idle presentiment,” she
said. “I cannot. The sense of ap
proaching calamity grows on me. It
points to the creek —the bridge.”
Her agitated tones attracted her
two brothers, and they came to her.
She turne dto the older one and laid
her hand on his arm. “Go to the
creek,” she said. “Meet him there.
As you love me do not let him at
tempt to cross on the wooden bridge.”
He put his arm around her and
chided her with playful tenderness.
“What a superstitious child to be
frightened over a day-dream born of
your imagination! Randall can take
care of himself. He knows Willow
Creek and its two bridges as well as
1 do. And it’s all nonsense about the
wooden bridge not being safe. It is
as strong as the iron one.”
But Amelia pleaded almost with
tears until her brothers, with several
of their friends, went off to the creek
to watch out for the coming bride
groom and warn him.
As they approached the stream, they
saw Randall on horse-back ride up to
the wooden bridge on the opposite
bank. They shouted to him to stop,
and he, wondering, obeyed. They
came on to the wooden bridge, and
as they saw how the current surged
and foamed around the supporting
The Golden Age for May 1, 1913
a 1 t 1
it > 418
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pillars, a thrill of the fear that pos
sessed Amelia came to them and they
shouted to the young man to go back
and cross on the iron bridge, as this
one, it was feared, was unsafe.
< STEREOPTiC ON S
A 6reat Soul-Winning Campaign for the
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If elhiM-wn The Christian Lantern Slide 4 Lerture Bureau
*(V- 30 W. LAKE ST., CHICAGO. ILL
15