Uncle Sam's babies

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Olaf’s Christmas Gift; or, the Christ-Child’s Messengers 3 Charles O’Malley - - - - - 25

The Lively Littles; or, Quarters No. 10 - - 43

II

No real work was done about the Indian Christmas box until “ Hallow’een.”

The quartet were having a gay little party at Betty Stone’s. Their governess, whom all the eight boys and girls shared, had given them a holiday for “All Saints,” so that the party had received permission to keep up until ten o'clock, a rare concession and a great treat.

It was after they were quite tired out with bobbing for apples in a tub of water, burning chestnuts, and melting lead, in which pursuit Dickey had burned not only his fingers but a hole in his best trousers, and had howled so dismally that the sentry walking past on No. 2, right in rear of the officers’ quarters, had stopped and rapped at the kitchen door to find out what could be the matter.

To soothe poor Dick’s wounded feelings and create a diversion, Frank suddenly asked:

“What have you girls done about that Christmas box for those Indian young ones?”

“ Not a thing, I’m ashamed to say,” replied Elinor penitently, “but we have been so busy since school began, there hasn’t been much time; Ned was speaking of it at breakfast this morning.”

“I have tried my best,” said Betty, “ to save a little, but oh, dear! where the money goes, I can’t imagine; I’ve got just two dollars to contribute.”

“Well, Betty, that’s a good deal for you,” remarked Frank, teasingly ; “if a girl I know wasn’t so fond of canteen soda water and candy, the poor Indian’s youngster would fare better.”

“Never mind him, Betty,” said Elinor, “soda water days are over now, and the canteen candy isn’t good anyway, so you will be able to do better.”

“I tell you, boys and girls, let’s each write on a slip of paper what we can give, and Frank, being our prize mathematician, can sum it up, then we’ll know how much money we have got to earn before Christmas.”

i

“I’ve got forty cents and a Canadian half-a-cent,” shouted Dickey, “but I am only going to give half, because I’ve got other people to buy Christmas presents for, and I don’t like ‘Injun’ children very well anyhow, they're awful dirty, most always, ”

“ Not half as dirty as some little white boys I know,” answered Elinor, severely, in her elder-sister manner.

“Yes, I know,” replied Master Dick, serenely, “Micky Ryan and those; yes, they are pretty dirty.”

They all laughed at Dick’s calm ignoring of his sister’s intended rebuke.

“We are wandering from our subject,” said Jimmy, “come on now, Frank, with your figures, how much cash have we to buy useful and ornamental gifts for the wily savage.”

“Twelve dollars and sixty cents,” answered Frank, “ not a bad showing, still we ought to, have more.”

“ Let’s have a play,” suddenly exclaimed Betty, “and charge twenty-five cents admission ; mamma has some splendid ones written for children ; she played in them at the Convent; one especially would be fine, it is a Colonial play, and the plot is that the only son of the Governor of Massachusetts, a little fellow of five or six (that’s you, Dickey), is stolen as an act of revenge by the order of an Indian chief, Powhasset. I know the play almost by heart, I’ve read it so often.

“ The child is finally rescued through the efforts of a dark-haired Indian maid (that’s Elinor, for she’s a brunette) and a Jesuit priest, who is trying to convert

IO the tribe, and has succeeded with the chief’s lovely daughter, Waketa, otherwise Elinor.

“The chief has a wicked son who is the villain of the play; you could take the part beautifully, Frank.”

“Oh, thank you,” interrupted Frank, sarcastically.

“ It’s a splendid idea, Betty,” chorused Fanny and Ellen as usual; “but,” said Fanny, “how could they act such a play at a Convent, Betty, where there are no boys?”

“Oh, easy enough,” answered Betty.

“The big girls took the parts; they wore boots, long capes, and slouch hats, to represent the white men ; a few feathers, blankets, and moccasins made good Indian costumes. Anyway, mamma went to the Sacred Heart, near Montreal, and it was easy enough to get up the Indian parts there.”

“Well, Betty, I think the play is the best idea yet,” said Jimmy, emphatically; “if your mother will only help us we can make a success of it, I know.”

“I think so too,” agreed Frank, “even if I have to play the villain; I can borrow a fine costume from Miche anyway.”

“Make out your cast, Betty, and let us see how many and what kind of parts there are,” said Elinor.

“Just eight,” answered Betty.

The Governor’s wife, that’s me, with powdered hair d la Martha Washington, patches, and a court train, my part is principally clothes, I don’t have much to say.

“ Hard on you, Lady Betty, you’re best at talking,” murmured Frank, wickedly.

THE CHRIST-CHILD'S MESSENGERS.

ii

“A lady’s maid and a careless nurse,” continued Betty, ignoring Frank’s remark; “they will do for you, Fanny and Ellen. Then dark-haired Elinor will be our star actress, the lovely Indian maid who rescues the stolen child.”

Now for the boys.

“ Dickey, of course, is the stolen child, Frank the villain. Jimmy, you’re really too lively and full of pranks for the priest ; but you’ll have to reform and act the part because you’re tall and thin, and will make up fine.”

“ Too lively! I like that, from you in particular, Betty, I mean to be a Jesuit anyway when I grow up, so there !”

“ Ned, you’ll have to be the sheriff, or beadle or village watchman, or whatever they called the town policeman a hundred years ago. You call, ‘ Lost child, lost child.’ I am sure mamma will help us through, act as prompter and stage-manager, if necessary.”

“ We’ll begin to-morrow and copy our parts, and have our first rehearsal at our house Saturday afternoon,” finished Betty, and all the rest agreed to this.

Mrs. Stone readily agreed to aid the children in every possible way, and all the mothers thought the play an excellent idea.

It would give the children amusement and employment enough to keep them busy out of school-hours ; a difficult task often, for many amusements were not possible in the small isolated frontier garrison; besides it would really give them enough money of their own earnings to make their Christmas gift a successful one.

A busy four weeks of rehearsing, planning, and making costumes and scenery ensued, and at last the eventful evening arrived.

There was a very good little stage with some scenery, a drop curtain, and quartermaster footlights at one end of the “ Post Amusement Room."

Mrs. Stone as stage-manager, with the boys as assistants, had done wonders with her stage setting.

Two hundred and fifty tickets had been sold, and as the officers had insisted upon paying extra for reserved seats, though one seat was as good as another, Frank, as treasurer, had seventy-five dollars in his battered old pocketbook, which he had carefully locked in his father’s desk in the sitting-room ; not the safest place in the world to keep valuables, for the desk was old and rickety having traveled pretty well over the continent, and it stood between the side windows which opened on the stage road where there was no sentry. But no one ever dreamed of burglars in an Army Post, fifty miles at least from any possible visits from tramps.

So Frank went happily off to the little theater, not giving a single thought to his trust funds.

Miche had loaned him a fine Sioux war costume, a war bonnet with eagles’ feathers, a beautiful bow and arrow, and was to assist him make up for his part of the Indian villain.

The costume was, of course, historically not correct,

THE CHRIST-CHILD' S MESSENGERS.

*3 for Massachusetts Indians probably dressed very differently from their western Sioux brethren ; still there was no one to criticise.

As Mrs. Stone surveyed her company of youthful actors and actresses, she felt very well satisfied with her efforts.

Blushing, dimpled Betty made a very stately little Governor’s lady.

Fanny and Ellen, in their neat maid-costumes of a hundred years ago, looked quaint and pretty.

While Elinor made a lovely Indian maid, little Dick was as cunning as possible in his old-fashioned, longtailed coat and queer cut trousers ; he couldn’t believe boys really wore such funny-looking clothes a hundred years ago.

Jimmy made a very sedate-looking missionary; he had borrowed Pere Jolet’s best cassock and was capitally made up. The others in the cast were equally good.

As the curtain was rung up, there was a low hum of admiration from the audience' Betty, as the Governor’s wife, was discovered playing battledoor and shuttlecock in the garden with her little son.

Acts first and second passed off splendidly, the young people playing their parts with grace and spirit.

In the last act, Frank had a dramatic scene with Elinor, in which he tries to kill the stolen child with his keen hunting-knife; at the last moment he discovered that he had forgotten his knife, which Mich£ had supplied with the balance of his costume.

It was only a step to Captain Parker’s quarters, so Miche volunteered to run and get it. The orchestra played an extra piece, then another, and still Miche did not return.

Then Mrs. Stone decided they must go on with the play, and Frank would have to shoot at the child instead of stabbing him.

Frank was greatly disappointed, for he had counted a good deal on the fine effect his gorgeous hunting-knife would produce, still there was no help for it; but he wondered what could be keeping Miche.

The play went smoothly on to the end. Just as the curtain was descending upon the final tableaux, three loud rifle shots rang out, and the sentry on number one at the guard-house was heard calling for the sergeant of the guard.

Instantly the crowded hall was in confusion, something serious had evidently happened, and everybody made a rush for the doors at the same time ; the officer of the guard succeeded in getting out and started on a run across the parade ground in the direction of Captain Parker’s quarters, towards which the guard were running in response to loud calls for help! help!

The boys were wildly excited, they dashed off the stage just as they were, and ran to the scene of the trouble.

A glance showed Frank what was the matter; beneath the sitting-room window, with its contents scattered far and near on the frost-covered ground,

THE CHRIST-CHILD'S MESSENGERS.

lay his old pocketbook, while four members of the guard were handcuffing a tall, powerfully built ruffian, who was swearing horribly. The post doctor was attending to poor Miche, who was bleeding profusely from a bad scalp wound, made by the very knife he had come in search of.

Miche soon told his story; he had come upon the thief, a dishonorably discharged soldier of Captain Parker’s company, just as he was getting out of the window ; the two had struggled to gain possession of the pocketbook, but Mich6 had managed to give the alarm, and held on to his assailant until the sentry had come running up. In his violent anger at being caught, the man had snatched up the knife which was lying on a table near by, and made a savage lunge at the young half-breed. Fortunately he had not aimed well, and the cut was not a serious matter.

It was a very exciting ending to their play, and gave the young people a topic of conversation the entire winter.

Frank said he had quite enough of trust funds, and turned his money over to the quartermaster to be locked up in the safe.

III

The young people after careful discussion with their elders decided to spend only twenty-five dollars out of their earnings, the balance they would send the sisters, to be used as they thought best.

With this money they sent off a big order to Sioux City, and when the huge box arrived, how the girls worked ! There were dolls to dress, little gowns and aprons to be made, pretty little work-baskets to fit up ; pretty ties and bright-colored ribbons to sort out and mark.

Miche was to take the box on the day before Christmas; he had obtained permission to spend the holidays at his own home, which was near the agency. * * * * * *

On the twentieth Miche’s hunting-party, planned early in the summer, left the post bright and early for a three days’ hunt.

Mr. Howell, the second lieutenant of Captain Parker’s company, with a detail of ten men, was in charge of the party, but the three boys looked upon Miche as the real head.

The young half-breed had been in earnest consultation with his Indian friends and relatives for many days before they started, so he had the best and latest information as to where the ducks were thickest, and where an occasional bear prowled in search of food, and antelopes were almost certain to be had.

Dickey and the girls got up at reveille to see the start.

Miche drove his gray mules in the big, yellow Dougherty wagon, the foot of which contained a big hamper of provisions and extra wraps.

Behind this came a big, blue escort wagon, with the ten men, the tents, rations, blankets, and other necessaries for a camp.

“Be sure and be back by the twenty- third,” called Betty; “remember, Mich£, you’re to take the box for us in time for Christmas, don’t get lost! ”

Miche smiled gravely ; Indian like, he talked very little.

“Good-by, good-by, and good luck!” called the girls, and the boys in the ambulance waved a farewell as they turned the corner by the adjutant’s office, and dashed off on the old stage road which lead out over the divide.

* * * * * *

For two days a furious blizzard had been blowing, the snow had drifted so that the lonely little “dugout” of Jansen, the Norwegian settler, was almost covered. One window and the door they had managed to keep cleared, and a path which led to the rude shacks close by, wherein their precious stock was sheltered.

It was Christmas Eve, and Jansen with his little son Olaf were talking in front of the glowing stove.

“This is like a storm in the old country, Olaf. It would be hard work to go to the Midnight Mass, a night like this, and yet no man would miss it, but the women and children would not venture out.”

“ Yes, my father, I would if only I were there; I can not remember much of my own country, my father,” replied the little lad wistfully.

“ Thou wert too young when we left, Olaf, and thou hast been blind so long, thou hast forgotten. Can’st thou recall thy dear mother, my son?”

“Oh, yes, when I close my eyes tight.”

The father smiled at the child’s fancy; were not the poor blind eyes always closed?

“She smiles at me, she looks like the Mother Mary you have told me of, in the old church at home.”

“ It is a sad and lonely life for a child,” murmured the father; but little Olaf heard it, for he answered cheerily :

“Not so, while I have my friend for company,” touching, as he spoke, a quaint, very ancient-looking violin.

“A poor Christmas for thee, my Olaf, not even one gift have I for thee save the Christmas cake, and that is made without plums.”

“ Do not trouble, father mine, I am content; but if only the beautiful Christ-child would come and knock at our door this night, and say to me that I might have any one gift I chose, I know what I would say.”

“If thou had’st just one gift, how would’st thou choose?” asked his father.

“ Oh, quite easy, for I would ask for enough gold so that thou, my father, would’st not have to work so hard ; and thou, father, what gift would’st thou choose?”

“ Light, my Olaf, light for thy poor darkened eyes,” catching the little lad to his heart.

“ Well, my father, when I pray to-night, I shall ask of

THE CHRIST-CHILD' S MESSENGERS.

our Christ-child these two gifts; and to-night, when we have our little feast, I will sing the Christ-child hymns and we will keep our Christmas so”

“ Three o’clock!” suddenly spoke Jansen, “and nearly dark. I must attend to our dumb friends, my son,” and he proceeded to bundle up in a huge fur coat and light his lantern, for the darkness was growing deeper every moment.

Pausing outside the door, Jansen swept the horizon with his quick, keen glance, then suddenly he uttered an exclamation. A big, black object, a half-mile down the canon, caught his eye. It moved slowly, then stopped, and though Jansen waited some time, it did move again.

“ Something or somebody caught out in the storm! ” he exclaimed; “well, I must see to it;” and hastily explaining to Olaf, the sturdy Norwegian set out.

* * * * * *

A half-hour later the belated hunting-party were safely installed in the small “dugout,” “trying to thaw out a two days’ freeze,” as Frank expressed it.

They were not exactly lost, an Indian never gets lost, but they had been forced to abandon the big escort wagon on account of the heavy drifts, and the entire party had to depend upon the plucky gray mules to get them home. Taking turns at riding and walking, they had struggled on somehow; but for several hours Mich6 had had hard work to urge his mules on, only his loving coaxing and urgingwould have accomplished it, so that the little Jansen “dugout” seemed a very haven of refuge to the weary hunters. After an hour’s rest, during which they had refreshed themselves with quantities of hot coffee, they began to wonder if it were not possible to get home that night. Mich6 reported that they were not over ten miles from the post, and if Jansen would lend them his stout farm horses they would easily manage it.

“ I had hoped that our Christmas guests would have spent the happy day with us,” exclaimed Olaf, shyly.

“We can’t, Olaf,” explained the boys, “for our fathers and mothers are already, probably, terribly frightened about us.”

“But, Olaf,” asked Jimmy, “why can’t you come with us and spend Christmas ? See, it has stopped snowing and the cold is not so great now. We’ll bundle you up carefully and take the best of care of you and your fiddle.”

So it was arranged — to Jansen’s huge delight.

* * * * * *

The hunting party reached the post, just as the bugles were sounding tattoo, and the entire garrison turned out to welcome them, for they had indeed been very anxious.

* * * * * *

Such a merry, happy Christmas as they had ; the only drawback was the utter impossibility of getting the Christmas box to the agency.

Little Olaf had never had so many presents in his

THE CHRIST CHILD’S MESSENGERS.

whole life, good things were fairly showered upon him; but the best gift of all came in the evening at the beautiful Christmas tree at the Smith’s, where Dickey insisted upon sharing all his treasures with the little stranger.

The two little lads were standing by the brilliantly lighted and decorated tree, Dickey describing its beauties to the blind child.

The post surgeon, a gray-haired, kindly bachelor, the devoted friend of all the children, gazed keenly at Olaf’s sweet face, then stooping he picked the child up and sat him on his knee, asking a few abrupt questions, and examining with tender, deft touch the poor, blind eyes.

In a moment he looked up.

“The boy can be cured,” he said briefly. Olaf understood, with a rapturous cry of joy; the people around him entirely forgotten, he fell on his knees and seizing his violin poured out a hymn of thanksgiving; his way of praying. It was a touching sight and more than one eye was moist; Elinor saw a big tear roll down the Doctor’s cheek and splash down on his best blouse unheeded.

The next day came a discussion of ways and means. Jansen had ridden in for the day, and was entirely overcome when he heard the good news. “I will sell all I have,” he declared, “ so that my boy may be cured.”

It was Dickey who suggested using the money left from the play towards the hospital expenses, for Olaf would have to go east to a great specialist who was an old friend of the Doctor’s. The bachelor officers made up a generous purse, and Mr. Holt who was going to New York on leave in a week, volunteered to take the boy with him.

The Christmas box for the Indian children reached the agency late the next day, and Elinor wrote the Sister Superior a detailed account of all these happenings ; of how they had meant to send the money for her little charges, and how and why they had changed their minds.

When the sister read the part of Elinor’s letter telling of little Olaf to her dusky charges, one of the older Indian girls stepped forward and replied softly: “We thank our white sisters for their good hearts, but we are glad that the money should give new eyes to the little white brother. May the Great Spirit and the Heavenly Mother give him eyes as bright as stars!”

* * * * * *

So Olaf went to the great doctor’s hospital, but it was many weary weeks before it was certain that the operation had been successful, but finally one day a telegram reached Fort Barry, telling the good news, and in half an hour, Mich6 was riding out to Jansen’s ranch to tell the lonely man of the happy news.

* * * * * *

All this happened quite a good many years ago. The

THE CHRIST-CHILD' S MESSENGERS.

garrison at Fort Barry is entirely changed now, and a German family occupy Jansen's ranch.

* * * * * *

A year ago in Berlin, a new violinist made his debut, a tall, fair-haired youth with shining blue eyes. Amongst the audience were several intensely interested spectators.

First a big blond giant, rugged and toil-worn in appearance, who wept like a child at the beautiful music. “Olaf Jansen’s father,” some one whispered. The second was a group of Americans. “ Dickey, you’ll pound a hole in the floor,” laughed a pretty, golden-haired girl, whom the youth addressed as Betty. “And everyone is looking at us, Dick; do stop,” said a darkeyed, beautiful girl, who sat with wrapt, entranced face, gazing at the young musician.

“ Pooh ! Elinor, they are gazing at our American beauties. I mean to give Olaf a genuine American sendoff, and if you girls don’t like it, just pretend I don’t belong to your crowd. Every one knows the United States Military Attache; Ned is staid enough for us all,” grinning at his brother, who had recently received this appointment, and which accounted for the presence of the Smith family in Berlin ; also, Betty who was to be Mrs. Lieutenant Smith before many months had passed.

The young musician received a perfect ovation, but as soon as he could tear himself away, he was shaking

OLAF'S CHRISTMAS GIFT.

hands, half weeping and half laughing, with his old friends; the friends who had helped to give him his precious Christmas gifts that dreary Christmas Eve so many years ago.

The Christ-child’s messengers, so Olaf had always called them ; for father and son had each received the gift he asked for.

CHARLES O’MALLEY.

A FRONTIER TRAGEDY.

PART I. HE band was just marching across the parade

1 ground for guard mounting, as four serious-looking boys assembled as if by previous arrangement, and seated themselves in comfortable attitudes on the big caissons that stood directly in front of the commanding officer’s quarters at Fort Barry.

Jack Lyndon, the Colonel’s only son, by virtue of his age and rank, addressed the little group of eager listeners as follows:

“Fellows,” he began impressively, “we have got to do something; not a boy in this garrison believes O’Malley guilty of the slightest dishonest act, much less what he is charged with, and there is hardly a soldier here that believes it either. Any one who knows O’Malley, knows he would die rather than do such a thing.”

CHARLES O'MALLEY.

“ That’s so,” agreed Tim Larned, “and as my mother says, if he were dishonest it would have come out before this, as he was our mail-carrier for a year, and so has had lots and lots of chances to steal if he wanted to.”

“Any one with half an eye can see that O’Malley’s a gentleman, and I don’t believe O'Malley’s his name at all,” said Joe Richards, not seeing that masquerading under an assumed name was somewhat incompatible with the idea of a gentleman.

Jack frowned. “Well, Joe, don’t go blabbing that opinion around ; it won’t do O’Malley any good, and what makes you think so anyway?”

“Well, you see, I got a peep at the inside of his watch one day, and what do you think I saw? One of those things— what do you call ’em?— crests. This one was a stag’s head, with a Latin motto and the initals B. D. engraved below. O’Malley was hot when he saw that I had seen it, he was mad I tell you ; gave me a regular lecture about its being ungentlemanly to pry into people’s private affairs.

“Served you right, Joe,” said Jack Lyndon. “Your curiosity will get you into a big scrape yet. Only girls are curious,” with lofty contempt.

“Now see here, Jack Lyndon, I didn’t mean to pry any more than you, and O’Malley saw I didn’t, too, and actually begged my pardon. So there ! ”

“Oh, stop fussing; do, you fellows,” interrupted a quiet-looking boy, who had been a silent listener to the foregoing conversation. “I’ve thought of a plan.”

“ Hear! hear! exclaimed all the boys, “ when the great and silent Tom speaks, we listen.”

“O’Malley has stuck to us in all our scrapes, hasn’t he, boys?”

“You bet,” was the hearty, boyish answer, and some of them were pretty bad ones, too. You remember last Fourth, when we fired the big cannon in the middle of the night and scared everybody half to death, and how awfully furious the Colonel was; it was O’Malley who kept us from being found out that time.”

“Yes, yes,” chimed in the others, “and when we nearly blew up the Lyndon’s quarters with our chemical experiment last year, it was O’Malley who put out the flames and burned his hands fearfully, too, in doing it.”

“And now,” and Tom Martin paused impressively, “ before I go any further, I want every fellow to swear that he will not tell my plan to a living soul, even if he won’t join in it.”

“We swear!” the four exclaimed, eagerly.

“Well, all right now,” said Tom; then lowering his voice he whispered rapidly: “ O’Malley is found guilty and we've got to help him to escape. I know the order came this morning, and will be read at dress parade to-night. The clerk in the adjutant’s office told me.”

“They’ll probably keep O’Malley here until a batch of convicts come down from the South Dakota posts, so we’ll have plenty of time to work in.”

“How will he ever escape from the guard-house?” queried Jack Lyndon.

CHARLES O’MALLEY.

‘‘Are you all agreed to help in O’Malley’s escape?” asked Tom. “See here, Jack, perhaps you’d better draw out; you’re the commanding officer’s son, which makes it worse for you than for us, though goodness knows it will be bad enough for us if we’re found out.”

“Draw out! well, I like that; I guess I won't” cried Jack, hotly. “What do you take me for? ”

“All right, all right,” answered Tom, soothingly, “we’re all in it now for better, for worse, so here’s my plan.”

“ Here are two files, so if they put him in irons he can easily file them and join the break with a bit of lead. O’Malley has two or three chums who have agreed to get these things to him. What we’ve got to do is to get a suit of ‘ cit’ clothes and give him enough money to buy a ticket to Omaha and decide on the best night for him to escape. How much can each of you raise ? I’ve got eleven dollars and thirty-five cents myself.”

“I've got an even fourteen,” said Jack Lyndon.

“I’ve only got seven,” answered Joe Richards, gloomily; “but I could borrow five from my sister; Molly’s awfully good about lending me.”

“Do!” cried Tom, “if you want us to be found out sure. Don’t you dare borrow from any one.”

“I’ve got ten dollars,” said Tim Larned, “and that will be plenty; I’ve been adding it up, and it all comes to forty-two dollars and thirty-five cents.”

“Yes, that will be plenty,” agreed Tom, “and now I’ll have to go ; I’ve got to meet the west-bound ‘ Flyer,’

CHARLES 0 } MALLE Y.

we’re expecting a visitor to-day; Father Darrough from the Jesuit College in Omaha is going to give us Catholics a mission; he used to be stationed near here at the Rosebud Indian Agency, but was recalled on account of his health ; almost all of the regiment who were stationed here four years ago, knew him well. Father and mother think the world of him, indeed we all do. If anything important turns up, or if any one of us hears anything, whoever it is, can give our signal, and we’ll all meet here, as soon as possible. So long, there’s the stage for the train now,” and Tom was off, leaving the others to discuss over and over again the details of the plan of escape.