Old Aleck came in, and walked to where the Sergeant slept, wrapped close
in that white frosted coverlet which man wears but once. He stood for a
moment silent, his fingers numbly clasped.
Private Gellatly spoke softly: "Angels betide me, it's little we knew the
great of him till he wint away; the pride, and the law--and the love of
him."
In the tragedy that faced them this Christmas morning one at least had
seen "the love of him." Perhaps the broncho had known it before.
Old Aleck laid a palm upon the hand he had never touched when it had
life. "He's--too--ha'sh," he said slowly.
Private Gellatly looked up wonderingly. But the old man's eyes were wet.
GOD'S GARRISON
Twenty years ago there was trouble at Fort o' God. "Out of this place we
get betwixt the suns," said Gyng the Factor. "No help that falls abaft
tomorrow could save us. Food dwindles, and ammunition's nearly gone, and
they'll have the cold steel in our scalp-locks if we stay. We'll creep
along the Devil's Causeway, then through the Red Horn Woods, and so
across the plains to Rupert House.
Pages:
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56