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32X

A BRUSH WITH THE HALF-BREEDS.

-n

• • i^H Ev • •

YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

An iiitere^itiiijT narrative of .• i boy'w nrl
ventiirets in the Northwest durinj^
the Kiel Rebellion.

KORRESl" ORISSEY.

\A,

Author of "A I.ODI GiRL," *' THK YOUNG EXPLORER,"

• • • I-' I v^ • • • •

CHICAOO:

W. R. CoNKEY CorvmANY.

1805.

•O v--" >w'

O'^

R 6>'yf yc.

by
MID-("ONTlNKNT PUBLISHING ("QMPANY.

W. B. rONKEY COMPANY.

PREFACE.

THIS book is written by the author in the belief
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 juv^enile wisdom and courage who finds
iiimself 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 oiihvard 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

PREFACE.

# I

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 diflficulty, 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.

CHAl'.

II.

III.

IV.

\l.
\ 111.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

VAC.E

In Desi'f^ratk Stkaits \)

A Ni:w IIoi'K 14

FoKTUNic OK Wak '2(i

Pkoud Pki:i'Akati()N's 'X\

A liRUSH WITH THK I Ialk-Ukkiids ,

A FiKRCK Battlk at Fish Ckkek r)2

The Lost Child (54

A Foraging Expedition 77

An Indian Am hush 92

Under Double Fire.
Camp Scenes

101

109

The Rout of the Rebels 117

In at the Capture 127

On the Trail of Big Bear l.'J4

The Cache,

14.3

The Night Alarm 15:J

The Return ir)2

An Independent Venture

A Small Footing

A Great Triumph

,170

179

.188

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

A Brush with the Half-Bkeeds Frontispiece.

Rescue of the Lost Chilo ^.j

The Foraging Expedition 9,j

'Hands Up!" j.,.

Pink-eve's Revenge ^n

The Great Find j,y

The Camp Scene on the Traii. oe Bk; I^kak i.-»9

Rodney Shows his Mother Old Pink-eve and his
Rifle and Saddle i.^o

lirj

Rodney and the Chicago Newsijovs 177

"Dear Sir -Come at once; will pay you S200 and
expenses" ,(,.,

CHAPTER I.

IN DESPERATE .t TRAITS.

IT was almost sunset of an April day in 1885, when
Rodney Merton came a^ain in si^lit of Ft. QirAp-
pellc, after the first nights of absence from home that
he had ever experienced. lie 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 tja/.ed 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

THE YOUNG NEWSFAPKR SCOUT.

'!!

i I

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 IJalm 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 w.iter of the Qu'Appclle 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 has 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.

If the object of his expedition to Grcnfell 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
w hich bore heavily upon nearly every poor family in
the Saskatchewan and Ou'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

!!l

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.

•I

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 Rodn'^y 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.

ii;:i

I'll

ill

I
iil

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 realized 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.

B'lt as he turned away from this fascinating sight

A NEW HOPE.

5pell-
half

sight

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 cither 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 Riel 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.

THE YOUNG NEWSI'APKR SCOUT.

!ii

RckIiicv simply shook his hc.ul.

"h^li-ha! sorry!" meditatively {ijruntccl the apjcnt,
as Rt)dney passed on up the hill toward home, think-
iu'^ that it' Leveque were really very sorry he would

^"ive him work.

As Rodney came around the corner of the cabin,
Mrs. Merton was dipping spoonfuls of yellow corn-
meal dout^di from an old basin on to the board which
lay in front of a populous hen coop, and stood
watching the downy balls of chickcnhood 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
tlic 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.

"WeliK' said his mother, in the hopeless tone
which plainly implied "I know the worst has hap-
pened."

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

A NEW HOPE.

cjiicss it'll come out all ri^lit, somehow. Any\\a\'
they've had an awful firjht at Duck Lake, and Rii I's
men cleaned out everything. I broucjht you a Win-
nipeg paper that's ^ot all about it in."

Mrs. Merton looked at him in dazed astonish-
ment, wondering what he could possibly mean i)y
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 oUl
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 anc^
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

U):

THE YOUNG NKWSrAI'KK SCOUT.

!i':'

!l:!

Ill

I ■' .'

Ihi,'

1;::
•!i

lIMl

i ii'

ill-

I'l I

iii

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 want 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 'sposc 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 doUais 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'U 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.

"Ma! I'm goin^ clown by the fort. Mcbby 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 Hying feet .ere 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

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

li'ii,!'

li'll:!:

m
!li I:

i|:r

i!-

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.

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

"Well, my son, did you find anythinjj^ to do?" in-
quired the shoemaker, as he deftly "stropped" his
thin, pliant knife-blade on the leather alontj the ed^e
of his bench and proceeded to pare the edj^es of
the tap.

"No, sir; nothincj."

"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 ^^'ho has fought with
Riel 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.

TllK YOUNG NEWSI'AI'KK SCOUT.

Illll'i

I'll

"How much did you say the Govcrnmcrit 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 thou<^di he e.xpected to
be rei)roved for the audacity of the thought which
his question would surely betray to the shoemaker.

"Twenty-one, of course. Hut 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 coura^^e to press his inquiry directly
in regard t(» the possibility of his securing a i)osition
as drummer-boy, but said:

"Don't you 'spose there is .sv?;;/iV///V/^ that a boy
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 wliich
comes of settled purpose.

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

,;^lil

A NEW IIOI'E.

enfja^cd inside the fort. A j^roup of scouts were
loun^nn^ about an open fire, story-tellill{.,^ j(jkin^\
lauj^liin^ and sniokin^, as tlioui^h their prospective
danj^ers were mere bu[j-a-l)oos, and scouting the best
sport in the world.

He listened intently to what they were sayiiij^
and final])' ventured nearer the j^roup, that he niij^dit
miss nothiuLj of their talk.

"Foutid a man yet? I should say not!" exclaiiuid
a younyf man who did not seem to ha\e exactly a
soldierly air. "An* I've ^ot to ^et hold of some sort
of fellow who knows enouidi about this valley to
carry my dispatches without gettini^ lost or cap-
tured. Every able-bodied man around here is either
with the rebels or getting a scout's {)ay 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 road 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.

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

Ill,'

I'jif

k
III'

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.

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.

It'
111

CHAPTER III.

liiii'

n'v

■ 'hi 'I

A FORTUNE OF WAR.

Rodney was awakened early by the drawling
crow of a neigbor's rooster, for the monarch of Mrs.
Morton's flock had long since been sacrificed to the
family necessity along with such of his feminine
followers as were not promj'lt 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 bo}^ 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 juvenilo 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.

abandon, not

leap(

)oyi

slackening his speed until at the very door of the
shoemaker's shop.

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

A FORTUNi: OF WAR.

rawling
of Mrs.
d to the
cminine
ontribu-
chicks.
is pants
to dress
g of in-
i antici-

silence,
lis haste
I offices

I stacks
3, about
£^ to and
thrilling^
n scouts
m dress

on, not
)r of the

cent," as he saw the boy's ae^itation. "Anythiii<^
the matter with your mother?"

"No — I — I— I just came to talk with you about
something that I had heard down at tlie camps last
nii^iit," 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. l^ut he
hasn't found anybody yet, for he says that the '^len
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. Ikit 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 lie
knew the country like a book, he'd be willing to pay
something extra out ot 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 pnrts. I don't
see why you wouldn't answer his purpose as well as

IIIM-
I'-
ll

ini!-!

liiliHy

1111;''

P
1 li

M ii ,'

in:

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.

■1

Hii

A FORTUNE OF WAR.

"That's him, leaning against the door jam," re-
pHed tlic 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 TranquMite — 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 Mojitrcal
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-

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

ii!

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.

:>u don't

in' then

' *M

: it over

dcd the

cw rods

issmcnt,

•1

had yet

confcr-

ic lad's

ne back

)nc with

■ M

t a prob-

■■[i

d hardly
/orablc.

-f

as Rod-

"What

ir young
2, but, of

■i\^

c. "Un-

thc lad

y to you,

:'s cquiv-

man and

r several

■V

king his

.:-:^

A FORTUNE OF WAR.

"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."

" V/ithout waiting for a reply Gilroy turned and

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

^ II

iii:'

ifV

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.

i!! lilt ,

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."

Fvodney 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.

THE YOUNCl NF.WSrAPF.R SCOUT.

"I've liad ati offer of three dollars a day."

"Three dollars a day!" she rei)eated in astonish-*
ment, her face flushed with j;r:ater animation than
he had seen it exi)ress in years. Then a quick
shadow passed over it as she iiuiuired, " 'Taint to
join the scouts, is it, Rodney?"

"No — not exactly. It's to carry messaj^fcs an'
wait on a news[)aper man, who is ijoincj alonj^ with
the scouts, to write up the Rebellion for the Toronto
and London papers. Mr. Trani[uilite ^ot the chance
for mc an' I'm to get three dollars a day and all
expenses — horse an' cverythincj, 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

ijlji I

PROUD PKKPAKATIUNS.

thoui^ht, it must l)c confcssod, toiichctl his pride as
well as liis aflccticjii. It hurt him to think that lie
should be t/(tii(///v i\vini^ fo icar without even his own
mother reali/iii^^ the di<^niity and the danj.jer (jf the
occasion, which, it seemed to him, should impress
everybody.

y\s he turned to ^^o 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 L,^entle one."

lie found Gilroy in front of the fort looking at a
collection of horses. They were not as slightly 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 Compcinion, 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

Tlii; VoUNd NEWSI'AIT.K SLUUT.

I''rcncli who liad (luictly joined tlic spectators to the
nej^^otiatioiis. "1 know that liorse. He used to be
ill the mounted police. I le'll thrive where a com-
mon horse will starve. (), he's a stayer. Knows
more than lots of police I've seen, and is just as
handsome, too!"

This brought a liearty lau^di from the scouts and
made Rodney feel that he was getting on well for a
bei^dnning.

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

"Oh, he's of age, anyway. 1 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 remaina 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

PROUU rkKl'AKATIONS.

of many thin{.^s and that lie would be fjreatly ashanieil
to report lor duty without shoes and stockinj^s and
dressed in his present "best clothes" which were
little better than a faithful and variegated collection
of patches. Consecpiently he was oblij^^ed 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 ^o to bed until late that ni^dit, 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,

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

I'iili'iii.illli

|!!i(i!l'!'i'"!ii

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. Theu 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.

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

!!!lp":!!!

"■%

CHAPTER V.

A BRUSH WITH THE HALF BREEDS.

iiiiii'ii;!!!

^|liii;!l?i !!

■i||i|!IMl)l|i

!ll&^*'!l

ALTHOUGH Gilroy had told Rodney that they
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 ]iad given him, the entire company of scouts
was ready to move forvva^'d.

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

Rodney strained hi.5 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 doches, 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.

at they
me, the
)rise to
sd that
-bye to
jih'oy's
lis em-
scouts

troops,
id they

apse of
should
scouts.

the old
and go
turned

ick the
even a

;ee her

itement
lections

The sight of thirty mounted horsemen is alone
sufficient to chase all other thoughts out ol; 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 ut
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 chafing 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

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 it. 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 THF. HALF BREEDS.

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

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

Ijll

, >.|,

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 tor 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.

was

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 he
about eight in number. The latter did not even
pause to fire an opening r.?1'itr 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 mamly 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

the scouts

problei

upon tl

speed and fire.

^ean

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

"Crack! — crack! -crack!" went one repeater after
another.

Rodney watched the fleeing Half Breed?, expect-
ing to see f^everal of therfi 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 ae 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

■k

A 15KUSI1 WITH TIIK HALF nKKEDS,

er after

ixpect-
addles;

operate
iselves
;s to a
with a
Breeds'
igained
than

the l)it of the hiUcr's liorsc, he ct)ukl briiiij the ter-
rified animal to a halt in time to save its rider.

The f^reat question now in the boy's mind was
not how he should stoj) his own horse, but whether
he could overtake Gilroy before they were fairly
upon the heels of the Half l)reeds. He jabbed his
spurs fiercely into the sides of Pink-eye and the
latter responded with a sudden ex[)enditurc of
reserve speed which well ni[(h took Rodney's breath.

In less time than he had dared lo 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 Malf
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 sure.

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.

THK YOUNG NKVVSPAPER SCOUT.

Scarcely knowing how he did it, Rodney leaped
from his horse leveled his rifle across his '-addle and
fired. The rifle which had a careful brad 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 hisShaganappy, 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 THK •AI.F BRKEDS.

the wound that Rodney tlicn inflicted upon the dar-
ing spy no doubt saved Gilroy's life, for tlie two were
in close quarters and Giiroy presented a fair and
unprotected target for the llalf J^rceds aim.

Meantime Lieutenant Johns and his men j2^alloped
rapidly forward to Gilroy's relief, and when in line
with him, halted and joined in the intcrcstinff fire
with which he was plying the Rebels.

Mad 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 wounded securely
bound, Giiroy 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

THK YOUNfi NICWSrAPKR SCOUT.

oiij^ht to liavc l)cci). Hut I'm tiii^lity j;l;i(l. ;is tlunps
turned out, that you were oti IkuuI; and I shall not
lorj;et tliis turn, either."

just then Lieutenant Jolins hiid a liearty hand on
Roihiey's shouhler and exchiimed:

" Woy, you're a l)rick! Never saw a f^rittier
piece of business in my lifel That's what I call j^ooii
fij^htinj^r. You couldn't have done better if you'd
been an old hand at it. You did the ri<;ht thini; at
the ri^ht time. If all of my men do as well I'll i)e
mi^dity thankful - that's all I can say. You plunked
that scjuaw-man just in the niche of time."

Rodney blushed under this praise, and when lie
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 imUSH WITH TUV. IIM.V HKF.KDS.

'^l

"If you please, I'd like to let him li i\c ni)' horse
to ride hack on," said the boy.

" Well, that's what I'd call—" Hut the lieutenant
did n(jt finish the sentence.

However, Rodney had the satisfaction of seeinjj^
tl; ^ man whom he had wounded, liile back on okl
I*ink-eye; and after they reached camp the tender-
hearted boy not only devoted every possible mo-
ment to makinL,^ the man as comfortable as his
injuries would i)ermit, but also suffereil, in keen
sympathy, the pains which, through tlie 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 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.

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

"■:' Pi
ill;

THE VOUNfi NEWSPAPEK 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 vrere 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 bailor 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 couj)le 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 I5ATTI.E AT FISH CREEK.

^=;

^c^unners train tlicir cannon from the brow of the
bluff upon the spot where the Half Breeds were sup-
posed to be ambushed. It made the boy crinc^e \(\
watch the effect of the balls from the bii^ <^un, as
they crashed through the trees that oj)posed their
passatj^e.

Before many dischar<j^es from the batter)-, the
aides dashe^i up to L(jrd Melgund, bringing dis-
j)atches fro'n 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, v/as loaded.

The tuij-of-v/ar, however, came in landincr the

gun
side.

and getting it up the steep bank onthe op[)osite

To do mauual labor while cxposetl 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 shart)

shooters whistled close about them.

le latter were entrenc

hed

in a

V-sh

aped ravnie.

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.

ow, young man, saic

1 Gil

roy, 1

ath

itcrnk

as soon as they reached the elevatit)n from wliicli

THE VOUNG 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 carefullyintheback 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.

•Til 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.

fro IP which the boy turned away witli a faint and

sickening sensation,

"Looking for Gih'oy?" 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 b-tter pick your way and keep

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

know."

Rodne) 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

THE Vv)UNr. NKWSI'AI'KR SCOUT.

1'^' 1 .

they make them — and Gabriel Diimont is tlic cham-
pion of tlic \vlu)lc outfit." added the ij^eneral, and
then <^ave the order lor the rilles to keej) a sharp
lookout for the head of Iviel's chief of staff, who
was known by his [)eculiar hat, and to make him a
special tari^et.

"That's business!" remarked Cai)tain Wise of the
staff, in an untlertone 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 enoiu^h to change his position after
every shot. No tellinijj where he will bob uj:)."

The wonderful coolness of General Middlcton,
and of all the men about him, under such terrible
daiii^er, 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

Cry

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.

an
HI

A FlKkCi: liATTM': AT l-ISEl CKKEK

At the sauic ii..st;int Rutlncy saw the si)leiuh(l
animal, one of the best in cain[), u[)on whicli the

un.

emnes, ol the ijeneral s stall, was niuunted,

rear and plunge. It had been sliut throu<j;h and its
peculiar scream seemed even mure terrible tu the
boy than the moans of pain that liad esca[)ed the

won

be tor

nded

man whom he had met a tew moment:

He ex[)ected to see the horse dro[) at once, as the
blood was spurtinc:^ a stream from its side.

Feinnes, who was seekinL;" to ol)tain a better
knowledL,re of the enemy's position and a moie tell-
in54" 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 atemi)tation to him, and he drew his
revolvers and deliberately empticLl 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

THE YOUNfl NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

for bcinjT charmed, then I'm mistaken," exclaimed
Lieutenant Johns. "That was the nerviest piece of
fool fi^rhtini^ I ever saw. He must be bullet-proof,
lor 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 Vv^ay to his log.

"Just see the horses down there along the creek!"
exclaimed Gilroy, pointing to the ponies of the
I lalf 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 'cm 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 BATTI.E y\T FISH CREEK.

that had been wounded and was hiying^ 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 Uumont!"

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

TlIK VOl'Nd NFCWSl'AI'KR SCOUT.

yoiiiii]^ Iliill l^rccd certainly coinnianclcd Ljrcatcr re-
spect in liis present role < I chief lieutenant ul t)ie
()l)pressed settlers' forces than, in his former calling,
of seUin<; slow poison to his friends.

As the dusk settled down the firinc!^ fri-aclually
ceased, picket lines weie thrown out and the news-
[)aper scouts moved ab')ut headtjuarters i)ickin<.^ up
the d(;tails of the day's fi^htin^-.

It was learned that the Ljover'nent forces hatl
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 Febel
scouts. And if you should run against any of them,
don*t have any false pride about showing them your
hors -'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 liATTLE AT FISH ( KKEK.

self some breakfast and tlicn put out at as pjood a
pace as you think your horse will hold. If )()u
make the trip in extra time, (juick you mayj^et back
here before we break camp, for the pjeneral has
decided to wait for reinforcements before moving
on to Batosch."

CHAPTER VIT.

THE LOST CHILI).

HERE liad always been a peculiar charm to
Rodney in the ^ray diiniiess of an early spring
morning; and as he saddled rink-cyc, after eating
his breakfast and providing liinLself with a little
lunch for his journey, this peculiar inlluence was
especially strong upon him. It stirred all the tender
instincts of the boy, and his thoughts wen: back to
his mother. He wondered whether or not she had
found it very lotiely 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 hapi)y, healthy
boy could reasonably be ex[)ectLd 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 desolatcness touched him more
strongly than ever before.

V," 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

THK LOST CHIl.D.

of nrootl. And niaybc I could i^o wit' her and }j;ct d
place on sonic ncwspajicr. "

The barkitij^of a doj^, that had been waiting in
ambush by the side of the road, aroused him from
jiis reverie to the consciousness that he was making
very poor haiite.

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

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

lie 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 sec what the
trouble is," he argued with himself; "and I'll push
Pink-eye through a little harder to make up for the
delay. "

THE Y(1UNG NKWSPAI'KK SCOUT.

As tlic voice sounded neaver witli each repetition
of the pitiful call, lie concluded tliat he would see
the woman as soon by waitinij^ quietly in the road
where he was, as he would by atteniptini:^ to <.r(jt
throui^h the timber toward her. He also did not
wish to run the risk of lea\^in<j^ 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.

Althoui^h oblii^ed to wait but a few mo-
ments, it seemed a loni^ time to Rodney, under
stress of his sympathy and anxiety, before the woman
appeared in the road, several rods in advance of him.

lie called quietly to her and was soon at her
side, listenini^ to her story.

Her husband, she said, nas in Kiel's forces at
Ratosch, 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 ii. 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 hurrijd back to their deserted
home and secured the stocking in which their little
hoard of money was concealed.

THI': LOST CIIILID.

In an hour she was back to her cliildrcn, but tlic
oldest ^irl was niissint^. Tlie baby had called ior
water and she had L^cne to look for a sprinc^. From
that time she had been searchini^ the woods, with-
out findint^ 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 onlykeej)
a constant lookout for the child, in the remainder
of his journey, but would also stop at the cabin to
which they had ori<^inally 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 thouj_;ht that perhaps he mi<^ht be as
likely to come accidentally upon the lost child as he
would b-: 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.

A^ter 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.

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

'iiji ■ ■■ fui

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.

lie 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 i seless for him

THE LOST CHILD.

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

"It's no use ! 1 might just as well go on," he said
to himself, and accordingly put spurs to his horse
and hastened on.

Ashe 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 alune.
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

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

f I

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 significa it, 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 flac, 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.

Before Rodney could pull Pink-eye to a halt, the
bull 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

THE VOUXC; NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

emptied a chainl)cr of his revolver at tlie broadside
of the bull, as the latter went sprawliiii;' 14)011 his
knees on the stones.

This ball, whieh entered the animal's side just
back of it's shoulder, was more effective than the
others, althoui^h it did not produce instant death, as
Rodney exi)ected when he saw, by the spurtini^
blood, where it had entered. The wounded bull
still continued to propel itself by its hind letj^s,
while its brenst plowed up the loose shale stones in
the bed of the ravine.

Believing that the creature was mortrdly wounded,
Rodney took more deliberate aim, and sent the two
remainin<^ charges into its vital parts with fatal ef-
fect. In the intense excitement of his o\\ n peril
Rodney, for the instant, fori^ot the presence of the
child; but as soon as he san^ 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 em

ph;

isis.

"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 limj), 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. ■

KHSCUli Ol' TUl'; LOST CHILD.

111

THK LOST CHILD.

He saw her cyclitls twich .iiul quiver. At last
they opened and she ^ave a little cry — he could not
tell whether ol joy or fear — and then sank into
stupor aL^ain. Ilavin^,^ once seen a boy, who had,
when skatin<^s fallen tluou^^^h the ice of the river,
broutTht back from unconsciousness by vigorous
rubbing, Rodney determined to try that remedy (jn
the child, and promptly be^^an to chafe her face,
hands and bare feet and ankles.

It proved almost instantly effective, fr '^o child
soon revived and sat upright on the stones

Where is the bull — and ma — and th< 'hlK.icn?"
she asked in confusion.

"The bull is dead — over there on tlie udicr side;
see?" he answered, pointing to the ai ni. "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 ho;se 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.

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPKK SCOUT.

"There! You hadn't better (hiiik 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 g;avc them to her, and she devoured them
with an almost savai^e ^reed.

"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 h'e 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 faithf".! 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 CHI LP

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

It required only a few minutes to c<jnfinn this
opinion, for as lialf a dozen horsemen came in si^ht
around the turn of the .ijully, as many bullets whistled
after him.

They were hred at too threat a distance and from
too unsteady seats to do him any iiijui)'.

For a hundreil rods he held his distance straight
ahead, holdinj^ in front of him tlu; child, who seemed
too terrified to even scream. Then he could see
that the scouts were [gradually L^ainini,^ upun his
awkwardly burdened horse.

When it seemed as thou<::^h a few moments more
must surely brinc^ his pursuers within rifle ran<^e 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 ridinc^.

The thou,Ljht flashed into his mind that this branch
ravine would doubtless lead him up to the i^eneral
level of the surrounding country sooner tli-m the
principal one that he was now following. Altfiough
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 ':o

I t

TIIK VOUNf, NF.WSI'AIT.K SCOUT.

urp;c llic .initiKil on. Then he even slackened Tink-
eye's speed in order to rout"! the abrupt turn in
safety.

As he did this, another volley f shots told hini
that the scouts were still in des[)erate pursuit and
determined to contest every possible chance to
csca[)e; but ai^ain their balls fell wide of the mark.

Once safely around die 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.

CIIAPTKR VIII.

A FORAGING KXI'F.niTION.

TIIIC sifjnificancc of Rodney's yell seemed to be
instantly understood by both his pursuers and
the friends in front of him, for searcely had the
echoes ilied away when he saw that a detachment of
horsemen break from the ranks of government scouts
and come to his relief with all possii)le speed; but
the shots and the clatter of hoofs behind him sud-
denly stopped and he rightly p^uessed that the rebel
scouts had not only abandoned all hope of capturinj;^
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
hande(' his burden into Gilroy's arms and dismounted,
was eno. gh 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

ft 77

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. Middlcton.

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 an 1 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
righ*: track this time," responded Gilroy.

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

A FORAC.JNi; EXPEDITION.

strangely wierd and uncanny in the deepening siiad-
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
ihat 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 couM 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:

I?'P'1 m

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPKR SCOUT.

"Oh, you needn't tell me! Siie's dead! — dead!
Oh. Jean!"

" No! No!" (juickly interrupted ("iilroy. "She's
found! She's all safe, back at the cani[), where the
doctor is Ljivini:^ her food and medicine. This lad,
liere, fi)und her."

Rodney half expected that the woman would be
profuse in exi)ressions of f^ratitude 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 ilazed way, she
arose from the steps and stag\Ljered, in a confused way,
toward them.

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

"Can y(ni 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.

quietly sicepincj she uttered a low cry and clasi)cd
the little j^irl ai^ainst her breast with a ferocious
way which brouL^ht swellinij lumps iuto 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 shoukl
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 theurst
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 tlie 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

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 loni^ 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 it yourself, 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 hinr
Well — now you just turn in and I'll look after 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
•ovei, as he opened his blanket and stretched out his

A FORAGING EXPEDITION.

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

AlthouL]^h 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 ghten up
our belts. We're in the enemy's C( itry, you
know, and 'all's fair in love or war' — at least so far
as hen-roosts and pig pens are concern d."

"But isn't foraging forbidden? I )ught there
was such an order," answered Rodne\ .

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

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 about to see if
he was observ^ed. The coast seemed to be clear,
and he made a quick thrust '^vlth his arm into the
remainder of the hay, anrl jerked out a sucking
pig, which had evidently suffered death from
the scout's knife, for it was daubed with fresh
blood.

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

'' We'll drop in on that fellow in about twenty
! liniit s, 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. Morses 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.

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

" That's a fact!" responded Gih'oy with elation,
" You stay here, Rodney, and I'll 1^0 and see il" I
can get anythinf^ 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 n turned 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 constan^^'y in Rodne)''s
mind, and his rcrtections upon it v. -!\. by no means
pleasant or satisfactoiy. 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, Vviio 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.

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

" Docs the [)lacc we're 1^(^115.,^ to helont^ to one
of the poor settlers, or to some one wlio will never
miss what we are i^oini^ alter?" inciuired Rodney,
as Gilroy told him at evening to get up their
horses.

" Oh, it's one of the largest places around here.
Tliey could afford to give us each a good beef, and
throw in a roasting pig, a turkey and a coui)le of
chickens, and never know the difference," laughed
Gilroy. "And besides, they knew that their prop-
erty was suljjectto 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 wishetl himself well
out of the business a dozen times before the\' 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 >'ou 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 do<r. As soon as he heard this comfortable
assurance that the brute's attentions were engaged

A FOKAGIXG ILXI'EUITION.

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

It took him but a moment to select a coui^le ol"
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 vheir heels toj:^ethcr, returned to his
horse and hun<f 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 Riei.

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?"

'iMI

THE VOUNT; NKWSl'AI'EK SCOUT.

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

The cU)L( bounded away with a threatenini; ^rowl
toward tlie I'okl.

"I'll look out here and you can ^o around tiie
other side of the barn, there," ai^aiii su<^i;ested Rod-
ney, with a presuniptory decision that the man
instintly accepted,

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

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

"All rii^ht!" was the cpiiet answer.

A moment latei' the lusty squawk of a fowl sent
a cold chill throui^^h Rodney's nerves. But the
sound was quickly nipped into an abrupt ".Lj-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 scarcel)- gone a dozen rods beyond the
fence when the dog, followed by the man, were seen
running from the fold.

"Tiiere he goes! There he goes I " 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 FORA(;iNr. K.\PL:nrriON.

<^9

This served to delay tlie man for a momcin but
not the (\o<^.

Tlie brute huijjjcd aliead, utterinfj a fierce, jay at
every leap, while Rodney mounted his hor^e and
galloi)ed down the road as though in greatC'>t haste
to cut off Gilroy's retreat.

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

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

A sudden splash, followed by a loud (jxclamation,
told Rodney that his partner-in-crimc 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, foi
dog gave a howl of pain and the hiicd-maii yelled:

'* Let the feller go! Let him g'-> — 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 ! "

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(716) 872-4503

90 THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

" But I'm ^oincj throuj^li, just the same! And
I've j^ot that chicken all ri^ht, too! — 'live or die,

sin

k or

swim, survive or pcnsl

Rodney could not contain his amusement at the
plij^ht 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

ust be LTcttinc: nut of

not the dust. Now we m
this."

"Mow's that for high?" he again exclaimed
pointing with pride at the two lambs hiying in front

f h

IS sa

ddle.

and enjoyin

Rod

ncy s surprise

at th(

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 lii '

s
t

n
n
ti

c;
d
h

hi
fa
tt

A FORAGING EXPEDITION.

" 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! Hut
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 FXniAN AMBUSH.

THE territory from Eish Creek to Ratosch was
deprcs.sini;ly 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'Appellc.

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

ik-eye, however, 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

tti:

AN INPl'.^N AMBUSH.

the shap^anappy provided Rodney did not, in future,
keep him securely tethered instead of allowinj^j the
frce(h)ni of the canip.

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

" We've been missini^ candles from our tent
several times, of late, until I ^ot tired of it and made
up my mind to put a stop to it. So last ni^^jht, 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-

THE YOUNG NEVVStArER SCOUT.

ment at the fellow's ludicrous frifjht, 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 makj 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.

was a deep ravine, which opened into the valley
near the villaj^e.

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 shells into it.
This had an instant and telling effect. Squaws,
bearing papooses and every sort of domestic utens-l,
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 YUUNCi NKWSrAI'KK SCOU l".

I' ■'

Accordini^ly tlicy juiiicil tlic little scjuad of
scouts, which dcscciulcd into the wooded ravine.
It seemed as quiet and deserted save for the birds
u'hicli 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 leadinj^ back to camp.

Then they carefully picked their way alon^
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 reconnoitcred 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.

The little company of scouts wheeled about, and
were leisurely walking' toward their horses, when
suddenly, like an idectric 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 t»'ee 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

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

!|j«i;;i:

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

Upon comiuj^ to this clearirij^, 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.

Kvery member of the party instantly followed
his example.

Mow 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 AMiiUSII.

the fear which he had entertained when crawlinj^
behind the bushes.

It was a more desperate undertaking to attempt
to run the j^auntlet ol 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 "har^e.

The little posse of scouts had t^one but a lew
rods, and had still the most dan^^erous part of their
ride before them, when another surprise ^neeted
them.

It was the belching of the gatling gun under
charge of Captain Young. lie 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

nil

iiP'

1 !

y^hm

^M^

ICX)

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.

■;V'I' ■■■■

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 disji^jpointed. Net 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.

if:-;'

:'i*Vi)i

■f,t3

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 rhe 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 danger that 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 ot 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 ot
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

few

Gilroy watched the men in silence for a
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 arc
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.

■:'V

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, when the shrill
scream of a ball made both Gilroy and himself
instinctively dudge 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 cither 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 '.3 — the fat man!" answered Rodney,
pointing to the prostrate man who was endeavoring
to crawl toward them.

cnc

th(

,1^!
'i.i

UNDER DOUBLE FIRE.

105

"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!" suddenly
exclaimed the wounded comrade.

^■5

■,r.,

I06 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.
8

io8

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

Iiiiiiiil'ii'

4 -i.

•J,-;;;

i'i'

jjyjift

li:

" 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 XI.

CAM!' SCENES.

HOW would you like to come along with me
over to the captain's ten ' 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

THF YOUNG NEWSPAPF'-R SCOUT.

I'ja

experiences tliroufjh wliich he was passing and the
intuition that, in ordei to appropriate their vahie to
himself antl turn it to tlie greatest personal account,
he must not only make a close observation of the
scenes of each day, but also grasp the method by
which tjie 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 of^ccr 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
newspaner correspondent himself as to where Riel
was intrenched.

*'Doyou 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

CAM I' SCENES.

Ill

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

. "Well ; that'll give me a good chance to get off m>'
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 his
old place back out of their teeth?"

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

112

THE VOUNC NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

miiscil Gilioy aloud, as though lie liad already
answered Rodney's question.

••Qh, I'll tell you about that," he resumed, alter
a momentary pause. *' The Captain used to holt! a
good position in the mounted police. Their re^^u-
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, lie
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! "

Tliis 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.

little riding for a couple of days, to break into a
brisk canter. He ktiew that the hardy animal would
hold this "gait" hour after hour, and bring hiiu 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 capture 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.

"Vv e'U 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 off our 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 uf the church.

CAMP SCENES.

115

A momentafter the white smoke puffed from the
muzzle of the gun and the sharpshooter reeled from
his lofty perch and went 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.

T^i-

ii6

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 tiirough 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

117

■11

J''

ii8

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

interesting chapter in the conflict in which «:vtry
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 wac 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.

119

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. Kut a j^lance
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.

120

THE YOUNr. NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

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

When the last refujj^ee in the saloon had cither
escaped or been shot down, the scouts pressed on
after the main body of the Rebels in the outskirts of
the villac^e.

As they came in front of a larj^e sic^htly frame
house, which occupied an elevation somewhat
hij^her than the nei^cjhboring residences, Captain
French quickly entered it.

Rodney paused by the door, and could hear the
quick footsteps of the oflficer runnin.i^ up the stairs.

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

Althout^h the firinf]^ 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 thesmoke
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 TUF. RKBKr.S.

121

He was not conscious of the near presence of any
person otlier tlian tlie 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. Rut I hate to like sin.
Somehow it seems to me that fellow had a mij,dity
good aim, across that rest. Great heaven! if I coultl
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.

1, ^

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 ihe 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 were 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

Tui-: vouNc; nkwspai'kk scout.

l)iit no incident of tiic moment occurred until he
licard the voice of a s(iua\v, some distance ahead,
talkiuL,^ in excited but i)leadin^ tones.

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

The si^dit which met his eyes aroused his anger
as nothin^^ 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:

THE ROUT OF TIIK REBELS.

I2t;

"What's up now?" plainly spcakin^^ 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 pleadinj^s."

"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 preparal.on 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.

( i T^iD you make out anything?" inquired Gilroy

I J of Rodney, as the latter returned to their
tent with rather a disappointed counccnance.

"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 everybody,
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 t.ust 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.

129

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 1

-P

yoi

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

130

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

can without exciting his suspicion," replied Gilroy.
*'But I believe I've struck a lead, for 1 overheard
Houri's father telling Major Bolton that he knew the
general locality in which Riel 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 othens take up the march, for it would

■'li.
Jit'

1
f

IN AT THE CAPTURE.

131

be too noticeable and wc 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 SCOUl.

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

/Y 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

W' I

IN AT THE CATTURF:.

1 "" '»

shame that Rodney received the hearty congratula-
tions of Gih-oy, Lieutenant Johns and all of the other
officers and men who knew him. Mc tried to explain
that he had done nothing at all; that Riel 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 would 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. y\nd what a
world of comforts that will buy for mother! "

That evening he wa'ote the good news to his
mother, and also, with 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 well-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 new — a little different from what
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 Rochicy
i began the march from Garripy Crossing to Prince
Albert.

"Somehow I feel as though Yd 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. Me 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 worshi[)ful feeling
which he had so often experienced when alone in the
woods, hunting or visiting his traps. This led to

134

ON THE TKAir, OF BIG BEAR.

135

thoujijhts of his motlicr and a sudden and almost
ovcru'liclminfj desire to sec 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 foochold 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 nieditated.

Ke 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
nt 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 —

n,Ci

TU\<: VOUNG NKWSr.M'KK SCOUT.

d.->

my iij^c, 1 iiiL'.in?" bashfully st.unnicrccl Rodney
they rode alon<^ side by side.

"They'd probably try — (i//(i fail!"' was Gilroy's
discourat^inL]^ rejoinder.

After a few moments' reflection, he added:

"There are several ways in which youn^ fellows
j^et a start."

"I5ut 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 BIO BEAR.

137

chocsc your own subject — somctliiuir on vvhicli you
happen to be well posted and which is of j^eneral and
timely interest- -and write it up. If the editor
accei^ts it, you will probably try another; ant! so
on. If you can make a,^^of it, and have your 'stuff,'
as they say, taken rij^ht alonjj^, then you may be
liircd on a salary, or a guaranty that a certain
amount of your work will be used. Then you would
be a special writer, w4iich 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. I. 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 reittcrated 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

i3«

THE YOUNG NKWSrAl'EK SCOUT.

the feverish excitement which lie liad been under
ever since that first brush vvitli tlie Half Hreed
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.

'iGood! 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 THl-: TKAII. in- lilU lU'AU,

139

l.ic will stop sooner than \'ou think. I wouldn't
l)c suri»risccl il they went no I'urthcr th.in those
lakes up there."

"We'.e i^oin;^- to i)iish rii^ht throuL^^h, as far as
there's an\' e;'.iMh!)' use, lor the government is bound
to punish the Indians severely who have dii)ped into
this muss," res[)onded the lieutenant, as he took
his Iea\e.

"Of eourse," soliloquizeil Gilroy. "The Indians
may cacJic their skins if they think they arc ^.jettin^
hard presseil. lUit they'll hani; onto 'em as loni; as
the\' can. Tell you what, lad, wouldn't it be ^reat
luck to run onto that <v/r//(' of skins? It would l)C
the next best thini; to your luck in helpini; to capt-
lue Riek You're such a lucky (\()'^ that it would be
just like )'ou to fall rii^ht into that . .rJic bodily.
Hut if \'ou should, I want to be in it with \'ou," and
(jilroy lauL;lietl <4enerously at this seemini^ly envious
s[)eech.

AlthouL^h R(3ilneyhad anticii)ated that thcjour-
ne\' wouKl be a difficult one, the actual progress
which they made seemetl unaccountably slow.

Much of the way they were obli<^'ed to wait for
the axeman to cut down trees ami remove logs from
out the way.

It was in following this narrow trail that Rodney
^vst discovered the antipathy in which the regular
jops 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.

140

THE YOUNG NEWSPAFER SCOUT.

Whenever Rodney attempted to pass a regular,
the latter would not yield Pink-eye a foot but would
crowd the latter close acrainst 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 crov/ding 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
o' "" '• eye, as he laid back his ragged ears and
plantnii^ 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

liar,
)uld

-to
id-
[her
inst
i of

;ud-
lof
and

ing

nan
1 i in
his

ver
od-
Lwn

ou,
icy

DUt

od-

:Lilt
ide
1 it
his

ON THE TRAIL OF BIG BEAR.

141

-»;

B'i

v»

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 ^: 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 l:ry 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 on me directly," was Rodney's quiet reply,
as he sou<Tht 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 15ear 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 wanderiiiL^ about for some time, pcerinc^
into every covert which seemed to sugi^est tlic
possibility of affordiiiLj conceahnent for tlie 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." l^ut
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 ver\'
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 listcnini^ 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.
Ihe tread seemed to continue for several yards and
then pause. lie 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

TUF CACI'E.

145

his

ecu
int(
illy
tlic
As
on-
hc
eni-
)ise.
and

of prospectors or siir\"c\-ors. Tlu' rot)f was fallen in
and the nujonliLjht Hooded the interior of its log
walls almost as bri^htl)' as their exterior.

"That scratchini^ comes from inside —there's tuj
doubt al)()nt that! lUit the next thini,^ is to steal a
march on the animal w ithout frii^hteninL;' it a\va\',"
rellectcd Rodnc\', who would also ha\e experienced a
certain relief in kncjuini; 'the nature of the brute,"
which he was after before encounterin<j it. Nevertiie-
less he did not hesitate, but crept softly alon_<]^, behind
the low Inishes whichsprinkled the clearing; tow artl a
sj:)ot from which he conld, through the doorwav' ol
the cabin, command a full x'iewof the interior.

At first lie could see only the "hind quarters" of
the anim.d, which appeared to be about the size ui a
larg'e doij^, only not so tall.

"I wonder w hat the brute's after,'' thout^ht 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 larc^er victim
than he could eat at once and has buried it there for
safe kcepin<^. lUit it's a cpieer place for an animal
to cache anj'thinL,^"

These thoui^hts Hashed throu^c^h his mind as he
raised his rifle, rested it ox'er a stum[), took deliber-
ate aim and fired. Seeint;" ti at his shot had been
instantly fatal, he ran cpiickly toward the cabin,
but his miml was full of a new thought.

"Ves; it is a strani^e place for wild animals to
cac/ic anything--- but quite a natural place for a

146

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

human beinc^ 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 varietv.

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

rs*f.^"*wi I ' i m0 mm ■ "*'

THE liREAT KIND.

TlIK CAClIi:.

the bunk, :u\(\ his heart heat quick with excitement
as he pried the end of one ol tlie small k)gs loose
and lilted it u\).

lie could scarcely believe his eyes at the result;
hut a thrust of his stick a^j^ainst the substance beneath
coukl leave no room for further doubt. He certain-
ly /i</(/ discovered the an/ic of Big Bear's winter
catch of skins !

The other covcrin_<:js were quickly lifted and
' jvcaled 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 \ault in which i^ii;
Bear's scpiaws had buried them, he maile a running
count of their value, as he had often done in hand-
ling the skins for Leve(iue, at the iludson J5ay Post,
at home.

l^ut at last his arms began to tire, and he paused
for rest.

"Well, Vvc taken out at least five hundred tlol-
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 beei?"

148

rilK YOUNC; NEWSI'AI'KR SCOUT.

vv.'is Gilroy's almost impatient greeting, as Rodney
entered tiieir tent.

"Oh, I've been hunting a little on my own hook."

"Hut 1 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 rejjly.

Then he related his adventure and the discovery
to which it had led.

"l?ut 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 ne\er ha\e an ()i)portu-
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
— toreport 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

Till'. CACIIK.

149

soUlicr is working; for his coniniaiulcr," rcpl 1
Rodney.

"No, that principle don't hold in i)rivatc business.
It's your ^ood luck, and I don't sec any reason why
you should not replace the skins as you found them,
f^o on as thoui^h nothin<^r h^d happenetl, ami when
the rebellion is over come back and ^et them. At
any rate, I'd sleep over the business and decide it in
the mornint^."

Rodney decided to act ui)on this last bit of ad-
vice, and stretched out upon his blanket.

But instead of "slecpin*^ over it" he lay awake,
hour after hour, dcbatini^ 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 cciuivalent. 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:
II

150

THE YOUXG 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. lie 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.

"" hat 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.

151

carried safely away to the f^eneral's tent he had no
repjrets for tlic decision lie had made.

When he returned to Gilroy aji^ain the latter said:

"Roilney you won't mind my telling you that I
have a very deep admiration for your action regard-
ing the cacJic. 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 ncvvspaper 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. Nov/ you have the development resulting
from an amount of hard worldly experience which
few young men ten years your senior can boast of—

mm'

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.

■V,,'! '

CHAPTER XVI.

THE NIGHT ALARM.

THE progress of the troops grew rapidly more
difficult and the services of the "cutters" were
inconstant 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

154

THE YOUNG NKWSFAPEK SCOUT

honkonc who has been there vvlio can be re-
lied on. If I live long enou<^li and don't jret settled
down to a desk before having my fill of roxing, I'm
going to spend a season knocking around uj) 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 wc 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 nai row 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
sup.

156

THE YOUNC; Xr.WSrAI'KK SCOUT

The island was a wild and hcautifui place and
Rodney was eaii^er to explore it.

"Who knows what I may scare up?" he said to
himself, as he tcK)k his rille and set out alone.

At first he skirted alonij the shore admirini;" the
beauty of the lake and watchini;- for loons upon
which to test his marksmanship. Hut not one was
in siij^ht, and althouf^h it was the proper hour for
their "far-soundini^" cries, he could hear onl)' the
gentle lapping of the water on its beach.

Tiring of this, he turnetl his lace toward th'.'
timbered interior of the islaml and began to search
for signs of an oi)eninf or trail. To his incat sur-
prise he found what seemed to be the faint trace of
an old trail.

*T'd like to run across Big lk\ar's cnmp and pick
up something that has been left behind, just to
remember this tri[) by," he reilected, 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 camj) fires,
lie at once began to search about for some keep-
sake b}' 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 IjowI of a discarded or fort^otten
pi[)e and put it into liis pocket.

''W\ like to know in what direction they set out
from here," he reflected, and be^^'in to search about for
the continuance of the trail, wliich crossed an "open"
and then disappeared into thick timber beyond.

lie had but just reached the latter when the trail
became so obscure that he was comi)elled to stoop
close to the ground and exercise all the woods-craft
of which he was capable in t)rder 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 scjuaw, 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 w^hich they wished to travel, on the island
to starve. She had preferred the (juicker death by
hanging and had been her own executioner.

158

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUl'.

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. \t ^rst the cruelty of the
I idians to the old »n •> seemed awful and filled
him with an indignat;/*; lli-ic would have welcomed
an opportunity to avcu^j it^u-''f upon Big Bear and
his warriors; but as he thougiit 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 engagem^^nt
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

v,>-7

CAMP SCENE ON THE TRAIL UV UIG HEAR.

THE NIGHT ALARM.

t;>i

'■t

of tlic appearance of tlic suicide aiul his feelitiijs ,is
lie 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 hanger just as it is, so that if Hii; liear
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 trapi)er, "we'll have
smoke to-n;j;ht, sure! This is wild tea; and it's the
next best thinf]^ to the genuine article— which is
?niglity 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 Indirn 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

THi: VOUNG NEWSPAPKK SCOUT.

leaped to his feet in time to liciir several s -^cessive
(liseliarpes, following:; in rapid succession,

"Indians! The Indians are on us!" he shouted in
wild confusion, scarcely knowing what he said.

Sei/.injT his rifle he rushed in the direction from
which the shots seemed to come. In this move lie
was followed by the scouts.

He was not yet thoroupjhly 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 di.'r-
chargcd 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

THr. NKiMT ALARM.

I6l

III

the firr from which tlic fellow had stupidly attempted
t(» hn.'k 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 dischar^nn^^ fire-
arm scattered the embers and aroused the camp.

After the fun over the ludicrous affair had sub-
sided, Rotlney 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.

ALTHOUGH Rodney had succeeded in locating
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 a^; 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 sec his mother and the old home
a^c^ain. He was heartily sick of bloodshed, and
while it gave him a glow of pride and satistaction
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 Ricl.

"How much do you make it — that I will have
coming to me?" Rodney ventured to ask Gilroy.

"Two hundred and seventy-eight dollar:?. Why?
Isn't that the way you figure it?"

*T 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 la,.' 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 mc
to just now."

Rodney's identification bcin^^ thus satisfactorily
established by Gilroy, the cashier paid over the re-
ward to the delif^hted 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-

i66

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

ishment — " not unless you'd rather do that than to
ride Old Pink-eye!"

" 15ut 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 v^ite me for anything, here's my address," he
added.

Rodiw y's homeward journey was not only full of
the delights of anticipatio.. but of recollection as

THE RETURN.

167

well, for his route "-as over the same road by which
he hd'^ 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 Tink-eye.

After leaving Clark's Crossing it seemed to Rod-
ney that he was "almost home," and his h^art leaped
with pride and gratitude to think how different wa'
"his present home-coming from the one — seemingl)
years, but in reality not four months ago — when h^
had tramped over the road from Grenfell, tired, dis-
couraged and ashamed.

Although he now, as then, wished that he m j-ht
pass through the village to his mother's cabin w itli-
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-

i68

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

eye and cantered rapidly by, noddin^^ 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 liouse.

"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.

*' Dear) -me! Just see how I've covered you with
f^our," she continued ; and the little laugh at his
dusty appearance relieved the embarrassment and
gave them an opportunity to recover the" usual com-
posure.

"Well, mother, I'm back again all right, and
here 's what I have to show for it," said l^odnc}'
proudly, as he unfastened his bulging money-belt,
drew it from under Lis clothes, and arranged the
coin upon the table. "There's just a hundred dol-
lars in each pile excepting the little one of t\\ cnty-
eight dollars. Just think of it! 0/ie tJioiisaud mid
twenty-eiglit dollars in three months!

Mrs, Merton gazed at the shining piles of gold
eagles for some time, as though unable to com[)re-
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 hau
seen her weep but few times before.

to
ors

Jilt

lier

icl

1111,
lier

ith
his
nd

>ni-

icy
clt,
the
lol-
ly-
Vld

)re-
ine

ity,
lao

S./

Lw-l

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Till'. KF.TUKN.

i6g

"Don'tcry, mother," he said, layini; his hand ten-
derly on her soft, brown hair. "It's all yours — every
dollar of it; only I n-ant you to use part of it in
^oing to visit your folks in the States this winter.
There will be plenty left for that after payin<^ for
the place."

She made no reply; but Rodney could see that
she did not — as he feared she mit;ht— at once reject
the proposition of the visit to Illinois.

After he had replaced the mone)' 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 ^iven him.

"And he's going to get me a good place on a
newspaper, too," observed Rodne)', after expatiating
upon the merits of Gilroy and his gifts.

CHAPTER XVIII.

AN INDEPENDENT VENTURE.

WHERE had \vc better kccptlie money, mother?"
was the perplexing question which Rodney
raised alter 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, for a 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 IN I) I'-. I' !•: N I) K NT \' [•: N Tl : K K

171

mainlainccl strict silence when not compelled U)
speak.

This unresponsive course had its desired et'l'ect
and when the last ot his questioners took leaw it
was not quite nine o'clock hy the shoemaker's round
bull's-eye watch, which had ticked awa)- above the
bench as long as Rodney could remember.

"Now give us a little account of j'oursell," saiil
the old shoemaker, as lie tied up his leather apron
and put it away in the bench drawer, from which he
took his pii:)c and a package of tobacccj, i)reparatory
to giving the anticipated narrative his s)'mi)athetic
attention.

When Rodney had concluded a hasty account of
his adventures the old man reached forward his
right hand, tapped the end 01 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 )'ou
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 mone)'.

On the following day Rodney, accompanied by

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172

THE VOUNG NEWSPAI'EK SCOUT.

Toussaint Tranquilitc, visited the government land
agent, paid tlie three hundred dollars demanded for
a clear patent of title to the farm, and returned w.Ji
the precious document in Rodney's pocket.

He at once presented it to his mother, who took
it in her tremblini; hands, as the tears [gathered in
her eyes, and slowly read every word of it.

"Just think how long /le worked for it — and then
never got! It takes away the biggest part of the
comfort to think that /ic can't be here to ha\e it
himself."

'• But then, father's pleasure in owning the home
would have been in the thought that you and 1
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 haj)py 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 encouraginL"^
things which had entered into her life, in lateryears.
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 proprietorshi}) in doing this

AN IN n E I • \: N I ) K N 1' \- E N TU K E

173

which f^avc him a far j:^rcatcr pleasure tlian he had
ever derived in makin<^ any previous iniprovenicnts.
He had never been hapi^ier before and he sani; and
whistled constantly as he plied his hammer and
saw.

But although his hands were l)usily employed in
this work his thoui^hts 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, //it?^ 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 wiiy 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

174

THE YOUNr, NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

one inside of ten days, a week found him an anxious
watcher of every in-cominpj post.

Rut, altliou^h 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
declininj^ 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 ditl 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 INDEPF.NDENT VENTURE.

^75

"I'll not count on fretting an answer from thi*^
until three weeks," he said to himself. When that
period had passed without brinrrinf^ a word from
Gilroy his expectancy alternated between the keen-
est despondency and the liveliest fears; but the
former steadily f^ained 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 j^^ave up all hope in that direction
and apjain 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

Vim

.-ji„

RODNEY AND THE CHICAGO NEWSBOYS;

AN INDEI'ENDKNT VKNTURE.

177

V vtr..

V-

i'OKjt,

fij:;luinj:j, 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 j^reat
whirliuj^ cylinders, the seeminj^ly endless roll of
"white paper" which unw')und itself into printed and
folded sheets at the other end of the presses.

"I supi)ose its too late for me to try to fjet 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 thepassers;buthis 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

:HW|'

I7R

THK YOUN(; NEVVSrATER SCIOUT.

voice of Aunt Susan, ami saw the round, merry faces
of his cousins, May and I'^ank.

The two boys soon retired to the room wliich
they were to sliare during Rodney's visit; but it was
dangerously near midniLjht when Frank exacted the
last narrative of Rodney's experiences in the
rebellion from the youn^ 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 ofTicc of the local paper.

CHAPTER XIX.

A SMAI.I- FOOTING.

i i \ KNOW 'Corkcy' Simpson who sets type on the

I J\i'c(>ri/," explained I'lank, as the two boys
walked down the villai;e street. "And he'll show
us all there is to see in the office. lie writes most
oflhelocals himself and ai^oodmanyof the town folks
believe that he is the local correspondent of the Chi-
cai^o ])apers,"

"Do you think that we could i^et him to tell us
that? You see I want to t^et a letter of introduction
to some of the Chicaijo editt^rs and he'd be just the
one to ^et 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

1 80

THE YOUNG NKNVSI'Al'ER SCOUT.

; 1

= I.,

forward to welcome his visitors. At every ste[) his
cork le^ ^ave an aiuhble squeak which revealeil to
Ko(hiey the probable derivation of the fellows cur-
ious nickname.

After introductions were over it did not take
1^'rank lon^ to hint at the distinguished nature of
their ^uest, and the conference ended by Corkey's
taking them bodily into his confidence and not onl)'
revealinj^ 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
mi^dit 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 tell 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 SMAI.I. lOUTING.

I8l

llis
to

icur-

Armcd witli a letter to the editor of each ot tlie
Cliieaj^o papers, for w liieii Corkey was local corre-
spoiuleiit, R(j{lney again accoinpanird his uncle to
the l)i|^ cit>-.

A ride iij) a creakiii<^^ and hitching elevator,
which made him feel paiiiliilly unsteady, landed him
on the toj) Hour of the first ne\vspa[)er tjffice on
his list.

•'Manat^ini,^ editor second doo' to de left!" calK-d
the colored elevator boy, as he shut the grated door
of the elevator shari)ly behind Rodney.

'A stern, bald-headed man sat at a large flat desk
in the center of the room, o[)ening and reading a
batch of telegrams. At his left, in the corner, a
younger man clicking the t)pe\vriter.

Rodney's heart beat with terrific violence as he
stood, w ith 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 ediior
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

I 82

THE YOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

i:rf

letter and wheeled about, in his swivel chair, to
speak to the stenoijjraphcr.

Witli tills blunt dismissal Rodney entered the
city editor's room.

The desk at which that di^tjnitary sat smoking a
col) pi[)e while holding; a telephone receiver to his
car was i)artitioned otT from the front ot the room
i)\- a low railin^:^. At his back were several plain
pine tables littered with small sheets of white print
paper.

When the man had shouted "All ri«^]it — so long!"
inlo the telephone, and turned his keen gray eyes
upon Rodney, the letter was again passed from the
hoy's hand. In a voice slightly "shaky" with ex-
citeiuent Rodney stammered:

"I've been all through the Riel Rebellion as
assistant to the correspondent of the Lo/nion Illus-
trated ucics 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 eyt- 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

CX-

entered and went down the stairs with heavT 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 andyou'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.

IS,,

Tin', VOUNC. NKAVSrAPKR S('(MIT

Kotliu'V iliil so. Vhc ski'tclu's stuMiiod very
(liioil .111(1 simple. They wcvc m.nkcd "oriL^in.il"
.\ihl tluMrloro must liavc been punhased l)\tlie p.il-
iMil-inside house.

"Why tluMe isn't half as nuuh to that story as
there was io the one that C'ol, Williams told that
ni,i;ht by the eamp lire at Loon Lake," tlioiiL;lit
Rtxlney. Siuldenly the inspiration Hashed i.jion
him.

"I'll write out the eolonels' adventure and offer
it to them!"

C'oikt^y furnished him with a nuantity of neatly
cut "eopy-paper" and he sat down to work.

l^it he eould not word the oi)enin<^ sentence to
suit him. lie woiulereil lu)W adventure stories
usually be^an. Another inspiration came to his as-
sistance. 1 luir\ini;' home to his uncle's he rapidly
"went throus^h" several months' numbers of the
YoufJi's Conif'iinion, which b'ratdv always kept neatly
tiled {ox re-readiuL;-, makini;' a careful study of "the
atlventure pa^e" in each number. Whenhehail com-
l)leted this investigation, he hail i^ained a clear idea
of the proper construction and essentials of a good
adventure story.

Then he attain went to the desk and wrote with
a rapidity which surprised him, the story which hail
so interested him as it came from the lips of the scout.

Frank came in just as he finished the last paq;e,
to i^et him to go to the grove and gather some wal-
nuts.

•' Well, see what yoa think of this first and then

A SMALL l(>(»l INC,

iKt;

I'll _l:<>," was his rfj)ly, as l''rank (lr(t|)|)C(l iiit(t llic
in-arcsl ( liair and ('orkcy Ifit. his stool and haiicd
against the conicr of the- drsk, coiiiposii^; sli(k in
hand, whih* Kodiu-y read his (list alU-nipt at a
story.

Iht" cxclainationsor admiration vvlii( h he irccivcd
lioni his aiidi'Micc made Kodni-y Ircl not a little
elated.

" To-nKHTovv I'm ^'<>in^^ all over it, al^lin, eare-
lnll\-," said Rodney.

" y\nd il )'on like I'll look oiil for the |)nn(t nat ion
a little. That's very important, yon know; a pra(
tieal printer has to learn lliiil earcdiill)'," sni;,i;esled
Corke)'.

This .sni^i^estion was j^natefnlly a( ((•])ted and the
mannscript was left with him, while I'rank and Kod-
nc>y hnished tlu: day I))' sec iirini^ a lat hai^ <»! nuts
and shootiiiL,^ several scjnirrels.

( )n the morrow Kodney a^^lin labored laithlnlly
on his story, cuttini; it <lown to the exact leiuMh of
the story in prt)<)f siieet and niakini^ varions ehan^His
for its improvement.

" I wonder how it ivoiild look in print," he mused,
as he made the last correction.

" I'll show you in about an lionr," (juietly respond-
ed Corkey. "It's short and I'm j^^c^in^^o set it u]) and
i;ive you a i^ood clean j)roof of it to take into the
etlitor, instead of the written cojiy. It will be very
much clearer."

The boys were delie^dited with the proof which
Corkey presented to them, and in the morning Rod-

Il '

1 86

THK lOUNG NEWSPAPER SCOUT.

ncy .'i^.'iin hoarded tlic cars with new courap^c and
hope.

The editor received him with so niucli kindh'
consideration tliat Rodney ventured to at r>ucc make
application for a '• bei^inner's position," and pre-
sented the story as a sample of his work.

" Wlierc did you i)ick up this incident? " incjuired
tlie editor.

"Around the camp fire, when we were on the
island at Loon Lake."

Then the editor, b)' occasional questions, drew
from Rodney an account of his experiences in the
reliellion and also of his independent strui^^le to
obtain a footint^ in the ranks of newspaper work.

"Well, I'll take this sketch and pay you seven
dollars for it, and LU L;ive you a trial as copyholder,
at six dollars a week to bet^in with, for the youni;
fellow who has been with us in that capacity has
just got a position as reporter on the Nczvs. 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
iiratitude 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 SMALI. FOOTINCI.

187

which they felt that they had in sonic measure con-
tributed.

Hoth were at the train, Monday morning, to "see
him off" as he went to bei^in his first day's hdjor.

CHATTER XX.

A GREAT TKIUMPH.

ALTHOUGH Rodney found the task of "holdin.i,'
copy," listening to the monotonous voice of the
proofreader and keeping his mind concentrated
upon the copy in hand, to see tliat it corresponded
in every word and figure with the proof, a very exact-
ing one, the work was 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, was a broad education to Rodney, which he
mastered with devouring eagerness.

188

A GREAT TRIUMPH.

189

His cvcnini^s were spent in the study of some
subject which the work of the day su,i,^<;ested and
tile montiily sl<etcli which he regularly submitted to
the editor was not only as re<rularly acceptcil, but
showed sucli 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, wiiile he gathered the
"solid facts and figures" from a p-^rusal of luiglish
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. lie
was not a little surprised, when, after weeks of wait-
ing, the articlb 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:

1 90

THE VOUNG NKWSI'AI'KR SCOUT.

"Rfxlticy, I wisli you coultl ^ct sumctliiiicj to do
in the sprinj^ tliat would t.ikc you out of doors .iml
j^ivc you the t^ood hcaltliful exercise tliat a l)oy
needs and you liave always had before."

"Yes," interrupted Uncle Bob, "I'm with you in
that, Alary, It 's no <;ood for boys the ac;e of tlicse
two to be cooped up in ahousc or office, pouring" over
books and papers. Time cnoucjh for that after they
arc men. Wliat they need is to have a little more
rouijjhinijj it."

"I was just thinking," said Rodney, "of the
strini:^ of traps that I had out last winter, and how I
would like to turn out early in the mornin^]^ and
'make the rounds' of them once more. Lookinc^ at
the snow on the branches of those pines out there
by the cjate makes me just hunc^ry for a good long
tramp on my rachcts."

"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 r.REAT TRIUMPH.

191

'ne s

1<T

had fallen during the niijht, which would render the
huntinij prime.

Frank put hi;, ^un 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 bea<^le hound, eager
for the chase.

"Let's go first to the nursery, where the rabbits
feed on the young seedlings," suggested h'rank,
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 'cm out" escaped FVank'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 w^hich 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
U

10-^

'llli: VolNi; M'.W'sl'AI'h K ><()ll'.

^'(H»(l margin for (.'(>ikc\' and tlic Ifiriid from wlioin
\'nii honowi'd tilt; i\\\\\. 1 tliiiik it's a .sh.imt' lo kill
inori' J^^'llm• than you can |)os>il)l\' make use- of; don't

" \'cs, I do," replied I'^raiik; " suppose wc j^o bark
1)\' the \va\' of the postoffice and j^et tiie mail,"

" I suppose \'ou'd be just as anxious to appear on
the main street if you had only your ^un instead of
such a fat striiii^ of rabbits to carr\'," lauL,diin_<4l\' re-
sponded Rodnc)'.

" No, I'm //ot ashamed of that sttinijj and I don't
lare who sees it, either. Hut I do want to L;et tlie
mail, too honest Injun." replied Frank,

" Whew! Here's one for both of us!" exclaimed
I^'rank, as he took a c(jui)le of letters from the post-
master's iiand and passed one of tliem to Rodney,

As they passed out of the postoffice, Kodney
exclaimed:

"Oh, Frank, just take my fj^un a minute! It's
from Gilroy!"

They stootl still upon the steps while Rodney
tore o[)en tiie enveU)i)e witii eai^er ami tremblin:.;
fmi^ers and read aloud:

"Mk. Rodnky Mkkton, Ft, Qu'Appellc, etc,

''Dear Lad: Awful sorry I didn't i^et \'our letter,
but I've been ' outside the pale of civilization' ever
since it was written, up to this date. J^ut 'all's well
that ends well,' and this endiuL;' I think will suit you,
for I want you to come on at once U) Montreal
( check enclosed) antl l;o with me on a newspaper
exploration through the Hudson Jiay county. Pay

b.'icU

Jfi

(liicy

■^U***"*'***'

'DKAR sir— com R Ar ONI K, " IK

A GREAT TRIUMPH.

J93

5.-'0(T pet month .iinl .ill t'\|K'ii.scs. Six in the party
.md all jjooti lclK)\\>., too. So you sec we'll Inmt
the musk-ox on his native heatli, aiul perhaps tlio
l»olar bc.ir, too tor there is no lellinL,' lu>\v f.ii
north we may ^m). The expeilition is splendidly
e(|uip|)ed and has i)lenty ot money behind it. Lose
no time in reaching' here at the earliest possible
moment. It you know of a ^ood straight lad abotit
your a^^e who has the ri^lit tind)er in hii; and is in
lor this kind ol thinij brinj^ him alonj^ at lialf the |)ay
I named lor you. H )'ou cannot eomc, lele^jraph,
otherwise I shall e.xpect yuu. Vours,

"(lll.KOV."

The two l)oy-> looked into each other's faces and
imderslood the "volumes" which thev were unable to
Speak.

" Do \ou suppose the\' will let us?" was the
tremendous problem which rose to their lips. Hut
they did not sj)eak it. Instead, Rodney exclaimed:

*' Oh, wouldn't it be foo i^ood fof earth if we could!"

Frank's onlv answer was a bovish- -

"Wniooj)!" which i)assersby i)robably interpreted
as irrepressible enthusiasm over his heavy string of
rabbits.

That exenini;" the familx' council assumed an
unwonted seriousness and its members deliberated
pro and con over the great question before them.

Hut good Uncle Hob brought matters to final close
b}' saying:

" Well, Mar\', 1 sa\- let 'em go. No use in keep-
ing theih over the coals any longer. We might just

T94

THE YOUNfi XEWSPAFER SCOUT.

as well tlccidc it riu^ht now and hcM'c; and for one, so
far as Frank is concerned, I ij^ive my consent."'

"Just as you think best. Robert," promptly ac(|ui-
esced I'^'ank's nKJther.

"Well, I think it will be better for Rodne\' than
stayin<^ in an office," said Mrs. Merton.

y\nd so the bo3s went to bed too hap])y to sleep
or do anythint^ but plan for the j^rcat expedition
into the "Hudson Bay country."

;i|i:i.;!l!