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THE MIDNIGHT CROSS.
IN IDYLS.
Tha Orest.
To the tender Love and fiery Valor, led and
illustrated by
John 13. Gordon.
valiant to the van !
M jl For here the contest lies!—
The focal path of battle-wrath,
f Where, whoso buffets, dies l
The red-ripe star of central war
Signals the bravest, “ Rise! ”
Ye far-off prairie flowers !
That deadly hush, ye know,
When the swift midnight lowers,
And the black “Northers” blow I
And here the prairie flowers
Looked down upon the foe!
Braves, from the Rio Grande —
Knights from the Shenandoah—
Sons of the central land
With the Stone-Mountain core,—
A hand-lull in the hand
Os Glory, and no morel
The flowers of Valor’s wreath, —
Around the Crest, they form,
Like stars that smile on death
From Heaven’s eternal calm —
Shining, though all beneath
Rocks to the bursting storm !
“ Now! by your Land’s last claim,”
‘ On Life’s last Loyalty,”—
“ Go down ! ” —and the gray flamo
Leapt downward, joyously 1 —
And, in the van, the foremost Man,
Fell hush upon the line !
Came halt to the attack !
Then burst the War’s great “ mino”
Os Glory—“ Lkk ! Go Back!”
And by God’s love divine,
They bore the Cheietain back !
And then ?—through blacker gloom
Thau shrouds the charnel corse,
They swept with stainless plume
And bore the Starry Cross!
And not the trump of Doom
Shall bring that triumph, loss !
Braves ! of the Rio Grande! —
Knights ! of the Shenandoah !
Sons ! of the central land,
With the Stone-Mountain core!—
In that proud deed ye stand
Star-Laurelled, evermore!
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
THE YOUNG EXPLORERS;
OR, BOY-UFE IN TEXAS.
BY JOHN C. DUVAL,
Author of “ Jack Dobell; or, A Boy's Ad
ventures in Texas," “ The Adventures
of Big-Foot Wallace," etc
CHAPTER XV.
Cudjo Chased by Mexican Hogs—Badly Scared
— "Dundefunlc” Uncle Seth's Yarn; or,
The Race between “ Roarer ” and the “Lit
tle Male,” in ichich “ Roarer ” is Distanced,
_
had scarcely disappeared
X&fshS in the thicket, before he came
rus ]jj n g w ith a couple of
Mexican hogs in close pursuit of him.
He was so badly frightened that he for-
BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
got all about Henry and myself, and
made a “bee line” for camp, never
looking back, nor slackening his speed
for an instant (although the hogs fol
lowed him but a short distance), until
he pitched head foremost against the
scaffolding on which Mr. Pitt and Law
rence were jerking the venison.
We could see the astonishment and
confusion that was created by his sud
den and unexpected appearance in
camp, and we laughed rather more
heartily than was prudent under the
circumstances, for our laughter drew
the havalinas upon us, and we had to
take to a tree as quickly as possible, to
get out of the way of the enraged ani
mals. Uncle Seth and Lawrence came
speedily to our rescue, however, and
the havalinas retreated into their thick
et. We then descended from our perch,
and gathering up our fish, all returned
to camp.
“ Well, I declare, Cudjo,” said Henry,
as soon as we got in speaking distance
of that valorous individual, “you beat
the havalinas a fair race.”
“Yes, 1 did dat,” said Cudjo ; “but
dey run me mity close, I tell you. I
hear ’em tush snap ! snap! right behind
me like ’cushion caps ; and jess as I
tumble over de meat rack here, one of
’em snatch me right by de heel.”
“ Well,” said Uncle Seth, “I know’d
you had a purty long heel, Cudjo, but
that beats all natur.”
Lawrence, “ Have you the impudence
to sit there and tell us such a whopper
as that, when you know there wasn’t a
havalina in a hundred yards of you
when you got to camp? ”
“Cudjo,” said I, wishing to make a
diversion in his favor, “I left my poc
ket-knife down at the creek, and 1 want
you to go back and get it for me. You’ll
find it right by the old stump where
you broke your pole, on the left hand
side.”
“Oh, yes,” interrupted Cudjo, “I
knows de place berry well; but I jess
tell you, Mass Dobell, if you nebber
gits a knife till 1 fotch dat one from de
creek, I ’spec your toe-nail grow purty
long some of dese days.”
“Don’t be such a coward, Cudjo,”
said Willie ; “ but go get Mr. Dobell’s
knife for him.”
“ I tiint, gwying to do it,” said Cudjo,
emphatically; “ ’spose I go down dar
and get chawed by dem Maxican hog
like peccan, who gwying to pay ole
massa tree hundred dollar for dis nig
ger, hey ? jess tell me dat.” And Cudjo
went to work scaling the fish, as much
as to say that any further discussion
of the subject would be a mere waste of
time.
In a little while, Cudjo announced
that supper was ready, and while dis
cussing his nicely fried fish, hot coffee,
and “ dundefunk,” we all unanimously
agreed, that, though “ not much in a
bear fight,’’ he had nevertheless some
I redeeming traits of character. “Dun-
defunk” especially was his forte, as the
novelists say. It is a favorite dish with
all frontiersmen, and is prepared in
this way : A sufficient quantity of hard
tack is broken up fine, and saturated
with, but not soaked in, water. This is
emptied into a pan, with enough bacon
fat to fry it crisp and brown, and when
nearly done, it is highly soasoned with
salt and red pepper. Even old, musty,
worm-eaten hard tack, when “fixed
up” in this manner, makes quite a
'palatable dish, and besides, a little v of
it goes a long way in satisfying hunger
—which is a great recommendation
when “grub” is scarce.
After supper, we stretched ourselves
upon our blankets around the fire, and
as it was too soon to go to sleep, Willie
suggested that Uncle Seth should be
called upon for a yarn. But Uncle
Seth, just at that moment, was very
busy at work with his pipe—the stem of
which Willie had mischievously plugged
up with a small piece of wood.
“Well, I declar’,” said he, sucking
vigorously at the stern, “if this don’t
beat all natur. I can’t get a smidgen
of smoke through it; and I never could
talk worth a cent, without my pipe was
going.”
“ Oh, if that’s the case,” said Willie,
“give it to me, and I’ll soon fix it
for you; my eyes are younger than
yours.”
Uncle Seth passed the pipe over to
plug with the point of hnPPQHJp?, and
handed it back to him.
“Ah! that works right now,” said
Uncle Seth, as he puffed a thick cloud
of smoke from his mouth, “I kin talk
now as fast as three women at a quilt
in’. But what shall it be about, boys?”
he asked meditatively kicking a chunk,
which rolled down and came in contact
with the bottom of Cudjo’s foot, who,
for a wonder, had gone to sleep on this
occasion with his feet to the fire instead
of his head. The hide on the bottom of
Cudjo’s foot was exceedingly thick and
tough, and the heat did not penetrate
it for some time, but when it did get
through, the pain was so great that
Cudjo bounced up like an India rubber
ball, and went hopping around on one
leg, much to the amusement of Willie,
who for the moment forgot all about
Uncle Seth’s yarn. At length, how
ever, Cudjo ceased his “ground and
lofty tumbling,” and settling himself
in his old quarters, in five minutes he
was fast asleep again.
“Now, Uncle Seth,” said Willie,
“ let’s have the yarn.”
“Well, boys,” he resumed, “I was
jest a-going to tell you about the time I
run a race with Bill Smithers, and he
beat me ‘far and squar,’ though I was
riding a regular racehorse, and he was
on a little Spanish mule.”
“What!” said*JkVillie, “you don’t
mean to say that a mule beat a race
horse, fair running?”
“ Nothing shorter,” said Uncle Seth ;
“ and it all happened jest as I am going
to tell you. You see, last summer, me
and Bill Smithers went up on the Co
lorado to look at the country round
Austing, whar they have moved the
Government to lately ; and a few days
arter we got there, we concluded we
would go out and have a little bufferler
hunt; so we fixed up our shootin’
irons and put out towards Brushy—
Bill on his little mule, and me on my
fine racehorse. I told Bill I thought
he was mity venturesome to trust him
self in an Ingen country on sich an
animule; but he said there was a heap
of ‘ come out ’ in the critter, if any one
only knowed how to get it out’n him,
and that he wouldn’t be fur behind
when the race ended.
“ * All right,’ said I, ‘ Bill; but I kin
tell you one thing—if the Ingens should
git arter us, you needn’t expect me to
wait on you.’
“ ‘ Nus ced,’ said Bill; ‘you jest take
care of your own bar, and I’ll take care
of mine.’
“So the subject was dropped. Well,
as I was saying, we crossed the big
perarie between Austing and Walnut
Creek without seein’ a single bufferler,
though their sign was plenty. We then
struck up four or five miles to the left,
and jest as we were turning short round
a pint of timber, we come in sight of
about thirty Comanche Ingens, mounted
on their ponies. The minute they seed
roe and
a'straight wake for us as fast as
ponies could lay it down.
“‘Bill,’ said I, ‘there aint but one
chance fur you. Drap your gun, and
jump up behind me at once. Maybe so
my horse kin carry us both fast enough
to keep ahead of their ponies.’
“ ‘No,’ said he, ‘he can’t do it; the
weight will bn too much for him ; and
they’ll overhaul us in the long run. I
must take my chance on the mule.’
“ ‘ You are crazy, Bill,’ said I; ‘jump
up at once behind me, before it’s too
late.’
“ ‘ No,’ said he, ‘ I wont do it; I told
you I’d trust to the mule, and I’m going
to stick to him to the last.’
“By this time the Ingens were in
two hundred yards of us, and seein’ it
wan’t no use to stay with Bill any
longer, I gouged my spurs into my
horse, aud left him sitting stock still
upon his little mule, that jest then had
took the ‘ studs,’ and wouldn’t budge a
foot one way or the other.
“I hated mightily to leave Bill in
this way, you may depend ; but what
could I do? For it was foolishness, I
knowed to stop there any longer, as
there was no show for us to make fight
in the open perarie agin thirty Ingens.
So I jest let out ‘Roarer,’ as I called
my nag, and never once looked behind
me, as I didn’t want to see the devils
murderin’ Bill. In a few minutes, I
heard a great firing of guns, and a ter
rible screechin’, and I said to myself—
‘Poor Bill! he’s catchin’ it now on