CHILDREN'S COLUMN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIV, Issue 10422, 21 April 1897, Page 3

CHILDREN'S COLUMN.

A RED INDIAN'S ARTIFICE. The moon was shining brightly, illuminating the sandy plain round the fort as only the moon in America can illuminate. The officers, soldiers, and their families were peacefully sleeping; not a sound was heard, except the occasional cry of a coyote. Three o'clock struck, and the sentinel who was on duty at post Number One started the call: "Number One, three o'clock, and all'e well I•' A slight pause, and Number Two responded : " Number Two, three o'clock, and all's well I"

Then came a long pause. The sergeant of the guard stepped out of the guardroom and listened. " The sentinel on Number Three must be asleep," he remarked. " Bad business for a sentinel guarding the corral" (the enclosure in which the horses are tethered).

Turning to Number One, he commanded: " Start the call again 1" Number One obeyed. Number Two took ib up. But here again it ended. The sergeant turned out a patrol and marched to the corral. As he approached the sentinel's post in the moonlight he saw the figure of Number Three stretched out on the ground. The position did nob look like that of a sleeping man. " Double time 1" commanded the sergeant, and the patrol came down to the post ab a run. As the men came closer to the figure a sight met their eyes that froze the blood in their veins. Lying face down tn the land, his hand still grasping his rifle, was their comrade, stiff and cold in death, an Apache arrow buried deep in his body. Three sharp cracks of the rifle, the rattle of the lone roll of the drum, soon brought the startled garrison to th« spot. Scouts were instantly sent out and the plain thoroughly scoured, but no Indian signs could be found. The next day, with muffled drums, the members of the garrison followed the body of their comrade to its last resting-place. With uncovered heads, sorrowfully and reverently they listened while the chaplain read the burial service. Naturally a gloom was thrown over the whole post. The soldiers gathered in small groups and discussed the perplexed question, "How could it hare been done?" The moon had been shining brightly, and there was no eovor behind which any Indian could cenceal himself. The searching parties came in aftw fruitless hunts. The corral was in an exposed place, but the animals had to be guarded.

Night came. There would be no lack of vigilance on the part of the sentinel on post Numbor Three. The moon was brighter than on the preceding night, and objects on the plain could be seen almost as distinctly as in the daytime. Every half-hour tbe call of Number One was promptly answered by tho other sentinels. Few expected a repetition of tho preceding night's cowardly attack. Gradually the garrison became silent, and one by one the light; went out. Some of the more nervous woke every half-hour, listened until the sentinels had responded to the call, then dropped asleep again. Morning came, and nothing had happened to disturb the peace of the little fort. Several days passed, and the poat settled down into its old ways, and the memory of the dreadful event was beginning to fade. The officer of the day was malting the inspection of the sentinels after midnight, and was approaching the post of Number Three, when the moon, which had been hidden behind a cloud, suddenly buret forth, rovealiug at the very feet of the officer the body of tho aentinel as before completely pierced by an Indian arrow. The alarm was quickly giren, but, in epite of tho most careful search, no trace ot the assassin could be found. A horror settlod over the post. No one dreaded an enemy they knew and could fight openly, but against such ghostly attacks no one could defend himself. At officers' call the next morning the affair was earnestly discussed. It was evidently wrong to require a sentinel to keep guard in such an exposed and dangerous place, and yet, with the corral where it was, no one could see how it) could be avoided. While discussing the probloin, an orderly appeared and reported : " Private Rogers would like to epeak to the commanding ollicer." The commanding officer went into his private office, and, after tbe interview, returned to the room where all the officers were assembled and announced : " Young Rogers has asked permission to take charge o( poet Number Three at night until he solved the mystery, and I have granted his request." The faces of the officers showed plainly bl*e anxiety they felt. Young Rogers was the sou of a brother captain in their regiment, who, at the time, was away on recruiting service. The young man has enlisted six months previously with the object of obtaining an officer's commission, which may be won by a worthy and capable

man. The young fellow had gained the esteem and respect of everyone by his manly qualities and strict obedience to order 3. Many of the officers had known him from hie childhood. He had been the playmate of their children, and a great favourite with all. Later on they tried to persuade him to withdraw his request. " Take tho post if it falls to your lob, but don't volunteer," they pleaded. It was no' use. The young man had a theory, and if be proved it and discovered the assassin, he knew that he would get his coveted commiwioti. He was excused .from all duties during the day, and after nightfall assumed charge of the dreaded post Number Three. Three nights passed without any event. The moon, though on the wane, was still bright unuugh to allow Rogers to see any moving object on tho plain, One would have expected to have seen him alert, actively watching for the slightest sign of danger, but he had a different idea. Seated on the ground, bis back against the corral, his rifle on his knees, be was apparently asleep. Apparently only, for his sharp eye keenly watched every point of the plain. He knew that he had a shrewd, tricky, but at the tame time a bold enemy in that wily Apache. He felt sure that the Indian, especially in the second case, had not crept upon hie victim unobserved. He must have employed Borne disguise which had completely deceived the sentinel. What was this disguise ? "That Apache would be more apt to betray himself if he thought me asleep than he would if he saw that I was watching him," was his sound argument. >

Through the long hours of the night he sat motionless. It whs two o'clock, when suddenly he caught sight of a moving object on the plain, some distance away. Noiselessly he cocked hid riflo He was a dead shot, and woe be to that object when he fired. Nearer and nearer it came, while he sat ae if asleep. " Why, it ia Corporal!" he suddenly exclaimed to himself. Corporal was a fine, large Newfoundland dog, the pet of the garrison, who had mysterioaely disappeared from the post two weeke before, and whom everyone supposed to have been stolen. Rogers'e first inipulee was to call the dog, when he remembered his resolution: " Shoot any moving object that comes within range." He therefore reatrained his impulse, and no one could have guessed that the apparently sleeping sentinel was closely watching every movement as the dog approached. It was a lucky idea of Roger*' to feign sleep, (or as the dog came nearer be thought he noticed something peculiar in its appearance, and it: actions did uot eeem quite natural. "Possibly Corporal may be exhausted from hunger, or it may be the deceptive light of the moon," thought Rogers. The dog wan now within close range, and he could hesitate* do longer. " It U a matter of life or death," he reflected, "and if I make a mistake everyone—even Corporal himself—will forgive me."

Slowly and imperceptibly be brought his ] rifle to hie shoulder, a short but true aim. a crack and a yell-such as only an Apache who baa received his death-wound can give -startled the whole garrison. Aβ if by mafic everyone collected on the spot, each as be approached evidently expecting to see a repetition of the tragedies. The story was soon told. The skin of poor Corporal bad been ustd as a disguise by the Apache who, with bow in hand, had been creeping upon his third intended victim. Deceived by the apparently sleeping sentinel, be had been led to betray himself, and had met a moit merited death. Undoubtedly be had, by the wne defies, dtoeived Uμ other

sentinels, and had very nearly succeeded in adding another scalp to his belt. Young Rogers was overwhelmed with congratulations. A special report was at once m»de to the United States W&r Department, and before long he received as a reward his muchcoveted commission.