LOST ON THE PLAINS.

Press, Volume LIII, Issue 9365, 14 March 1896, Page 3

LOST ON THE PLAINS.

By Pinaleon.

Half an hour after sunrise we have broken camp and are riding over the plains at a brisk walk, while the six-mule teams attached to the loaded army waggons settle down to a steady gait. Time and again the men have been cautioned to be careful and leave nothing behind them in camp, but the soldier, though a human machine, is not a perfect one. As Aye hurry onward, and have put several miles between us and the late camp, Trooper Johnson suddenly misses his knife and remembers that he left it on the ground after using it to cut a strap. The captain gives him permission to ride back after it. Why not ? It is but a dash, and we are at peace with the Indians. He will OA'ertake us within the hour.

Trooper Johnson is a brawny man and a veteran. The arrow and bullet Avounds proA'e him a fighter. Men of his company will tell you of seeing him imperil his life a dozen times over, and they can count up at least seA T en redskins he has wiped out. A grand looking soldier is Trooper Johnson —every inch a man. Your eye Avould pick him out of a regiment for his bearing, and when you had looked into his bronzed face you would put him down as game to the death.

The trooper rides back at an easy lope. In half an hour he is at the camp. There are a dozen gaunt wolves prowling about and munching at - the bones, and they grudgingly giA-e way for him as he rides up. Yes, the knife is there, and he quickly secures it. A newspaper has been thrown out of one of the wagons. He picks it up and sits doAvn to scan its columns. Some one had throAvn aAvay a letter; he picks that up and becomes interested. Some careless trooper has left a lariat here in the grass. He secures it, walks about for a few minutes, and then mounts to rejoin the column. It is travelling northwest. It will now be about eight miles ahead of him. It must bear to the left after crossing Comanche Creek. He will, therefore, take a short cut and save time and trouble.

Now follow the cavalryman and you will witness a curious thing. He rides aAvay humming the air of a merry tune, and he has not one anxious thought. He passes ridge after ridge, covers mile after mile, and so sure he is of his way that he scarcely looks up. All of a sudden the horse slacks down. He has been taking the ridges sA too fast a pace and is out of breath. A minute later he is pulled up sharp and Trooper Johnson looks about him with anxious eyes. What is it ? Nothing. He has only to keep on and he will intercept the column. He has only to ride back over hi 3 trail to strike the plain road left by the waggons. It is only 9 o'clock in the morning, and the sky is without a cloud. Curious, isn't it? The trooper stands up in his stirrups to look ahead; there is more than anxiety in his eyes as he turns and looks back. . He glances to the right —to the left —up at tne sun. All of a sudden as he rode gaily on, the terrible loneliness of the great plains struck him like a chill. What if he should lose his way! What if he had already lost itJ That is enough.\ He __3 let a doubt creep in, and five minutes later that curious palsy of the plains begins to creep over him. It has claimed ithundreds, and all have been brave men.

He will ride on. He smiles at his .fears— he seeks to shake off that feeling of terror which makes his cheeks grow pale. There is no cause for haste, but be shuts bis teeth

together, and gives his horse the spur and pushes .on as if riding a race. See ! He bears to the right 1 Let a man become rattled in the forest or on the plains and he invariably bears to the right, and thus hastens the disaster.

When the horse falls from exhaustion Trooper Johnson is twenty-fives miles from the command. It does not occur to him that he will he searched for, and that his trail can be followed. He noAV feels sure that he is lost, aud bo cannot reason. A veteran of three Indian campaigns—a soldier known to be Avtthout fear—a man in the prime of life. And yet his face is as white as a dead man's and he trembles like a woman—-aye .' A\-eeps like a little child ! One, two, three d:iys go by. Trooper Johnson is a favourite Avith all. Every man is anxious that he be found. Wo go into camp and sen:! out squads to the four points of the compass. One of them strikes the trail and finds the dead horse. Another, returning in the gloom of evening starts, up a strange animal which runs aAA-ay, uttering strange so-anus like human laughter. On the morning ot the fourth day the lost man is discovered as he sleep;-. He is naked : he is bleeding and torn ; there is something so wild and beast-like in his looks tint we shrink away from him. He is not glad to see us. We call him by name, but he does not remember it. We pity him, but he laughs and gibbers. '"• He will soon be himself again," says the colonel as he turns tiAvay from the poor Avretch Aye have brought- into camp at last-

" He will never be himself again," solemnly replies the regimental surgeon, aa-lio happened to be journeying Avith us. "He has lost his wits—become an idiot! It Avas the terror of loneliness that did it 1"