Harper's Round Table, June 4, 1895 Part 5

But the child evidently had neither the time nor the inclination for explanations. He gravely repelled all the lad's friendly advances, and turned to go away, as though confidently expecting him to follow. As Phil hesitated for a moment he looked back, and in a voice that had a slight tremble, together with a lower lip that quivered just a little, he repeated:

"Come. Mamma say come."

And Phil, picking up his rifle, followed after the unique little figure like one who is dazed. A happy smile lighted the child's face at this compliance with his wish, and after that he plodded st.u.r.dily onward without turning his head, as though satisfied that his mission was accomplished. After thus going something less than a quarter of a mile, they emerged from the forest, and came to a log cabin standing on the bank of a small stream.

Though fairly well built, this cabin did not differ in outward appearance from ordinary structures of its kind in that country, save that its single gla.s.s window was hung with white curtains. These caught Phil's eye at once, but ere he had time to speculate concerning them his little guide had reached the door. Slipping off the small snow-shoes he pushed it open and entered. Phil followed, but had not taken a single step into the interior ere he started back in dismay.

On the floor close beside the threshold lay an Indian--a tall handsome fellow, but with a terrible gash in one side. From it his life's blood had evidently drained some time before, for it needed but a glance to show that he was dead.

From this startling sight the lad's gaze wandered across the room. It caught the white curtains, a few poor attempts at ornamentation of the walls, an empty hearth, on which was no spark of fire, and then rested on a rude bed in one corner, to which the child had just run with a joyful cry.

On the bed lay a woman, and, to Phil's utter amazement, she was a white woman, who was feebly speaking to him in English. Her bloodless face, terribly emaciated, was surrounded by a wealth of dark brown hair, and her great eyes were fixed on him with a pitiful eagerness.

"Thank G.o.d! thank G.o.d, sir!" she said, in a voice so near a whisper that Phil was obliged to bend his head to catch the words. "Now that you've come, I can die in peace, for my Nel-te will be cared for. I prayed, oh, how I prayed! But it seemed as if my prayers were to be of no avail, until at length the answer came in the report of your gun. Then I sent the child to find you. And oh, sir. I do thank you for coming. I do thank my Heavenly Father for sending you. And you will care for my baby?

You will take him far from here, where he may grow to be a good and useful man? You will, won't you, sir? Promise me. Promise me you will."

"But you mustn't die," answered poor Phil, who was so bewildered by the perplexities of the situation that he knew not what to say. "I have two companions who will know what to do for you, and we will stay until you get stronger. What does it all mean, anyway? Are you wounded? Did that Indian attack you?"

"He was my husband, my Jim," whispered the woman, again opening her eyes, which had closed wearily after her recent effort at talking. "He died for me, and I am dying for him."

Here she was interrupted by a terrible fit of coughing, and a gush of blood from some internal hemorrhage.

After a few minutes she continued: "He shot a moose, and with its last strength it charged on him. When he did not come home I went in search of him. I found them lying together. Jim still breathed. Somehow I managed to bring him home on my back. But he was dead when I got him here, and the strain had been too great for me. I had burst a blood vessel, and had barely strength to crawl to the bed. That was two days ago. I should have died that first night, but fought with death for Nel-te's sake. Now I can go, and I am glad, for I am so weary--so weary."

This pitiful story was told in whispers, with many pauses and many struggles for breath. When it was finished the great pleading eyes again closed, and the woman lay so still that Phil thought she must be dead.

He tried to feel of her pulse, but started at the touch of her hand, for it was like ice. The chill of it seemed to reach his very heart, and he shivered in the deadly cold of the room.

"I can at least make a fire," he thought, and he began to search for matches. There were none, and finally bethinking himself of the blaze he had left in the woods he set forth to fetch fire from it. In a few minutes he returned with a couple of burning brands. Then he brought in wood, and, after a little the great fireplace was filled with leaping flames.

Nel-te came to him and begged for water. Phil had noticed several times that the child was eating snow, and now berated himself for not realizing that the little fellow was thirsty. He melted snow in a kettle, and the boy drank eagerly. Then from some hiding-place he produced a smoked salmon that he began to eat ravenously. After a little he paused, looked hesitatingly at Phil, and then shyly, but with inborn hospitality, held out the fish to his guest, saying: "You hungry?"

"Indeed I am, little chap," answered Phil, who was just remembering how very hungry he was, "and I shall be only too glad to take a bite with you." So he cut off a piece of the fish, and as the two ate their strange meal in company Phil knew that the little stranger had won his heart; for never had he felt so drawn to any child as to this one.

While they were thus engaged, the woman again unclosed her eyes, and made a slight movement. Phil held a cup of water to her lips, and she drank thirstily. It seemed to give her strength, for she said:

"You have not promised me, lad. But you will-- I know you will; for G.o.d has sent you in answer to my prayers. You will care for my baby, and try to love him, and never let him forget his mother. You will promise, and I know I can trust you, for you have a brave face and honest. You will promise me?"

"I do promise," said Phil, solemnly, "that if you are taken from your boy I will care for him to the best of my ability, and be to him a brother and--"

"That's enough, lad. Now hand him to me, for I canna see him. His name is Nelson McLeod."

This last came in so faint a whisper that Phil barely caught the words; but as he lifted the little one to the bed the woman seemed to gain new strength, for she flung her arms about the child, strained him to her breast, and kissed him.

Then the wasted arms unclosed. She fell back, a smile glorified her face, and the great brown eyes opened for one parting look at her boy.

In another moment, with a sigh of content, she fell into the sleep that knows no waking; and Phil, recalling the long-ago story of the missionary, knew that the sorrows of Ellen McLeod were ended.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A MINIATURE RAILROAD SYSTEM.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHICAGO, AND THE SKEW BRIDGE.]

One of the most interesting models perhaps ever made, in a popular way, has been prepared by an English clergyman, the Rev. H. L. Warneford, of Windsor, England. Dr. Warneford has a small yard in the rear of his house, surrounded by an ordinary brick wall, which may be seen in each of the ill.u.s.trations accompanying this article. Along the rear end of the garden he has built a railroad from wall to wall, in that distance overcoming the inconveniences of the ground which usually require the mechanical ability of railroad builders. The road runs from a little station called Chicago at one end to a small station at the other end known as Jericho. It is complete in every detail, and as thoroughly so as if it were one of the great lines that run across England. The two stations even have advertis.e.m.e.nts pasted over them, as any ordinary station does; and the terminal facilities, though they are small and rather simple, are in their way as complete as in any full-size railroad.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE AMERICAN TRESTLE BRIDGE AND TUNNEL ENTRANCE.]

The track is over 80 feet in length, with a gauge of 2-5/8 inches; and in order that he might get in in these 80 feet all the different forms of railway construction Dr. Warneford has made the track so that it runs over some of the uneven spots in his yard, and in this way, in the places where bridges are required, he has constructed that form of bridge which would naturally be best suited to the particular form of ravine or cavity over which the road is to run. One of the prettiest of these bridges is a thoroughly constructed cantalever bridge, on the form of the great Forth Bridge between Scotland and England, which pa.s.ses over a little excavation immediately after the train has come out of a long, thoroughly constructed tunnel, the entrance to which appears in two of the ill.u.s.trations. Another bridge is a perfectly constructed skew arch, which the train crosses a few feet after leaving Chicago. Then comes the model of an American trestle, and after pa.s.sing over this the road runs through the tunnel, over the cantalever bridge, through a cutting, and finally over a steel tubular bridge into Jericho.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE STEEL TUBULAR BRIDGE.]

Besides all these constructions, the proportions of which can be easily seen by comparing them with the ordinary size bricks of the stone wall, the road is fully equipped with complete sets of signals, which can be and are worked with telegraph wires and posts. There are not only signals for connections and ordinary use, but Dr. Warneford has even constructed a fog-signal apparatus, which is worked by a spring when the engine pa.s.ses over it, causing a hammer to fall on a small blank cartridge; and this, exploding, is the signal for the train to come to a stop at a time when, either on account of fog or similar impenetrable mist, the ordinary signals would be of no use.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JERICHO.]

As to the train itself, that consists of a locomotive, which is a complete model of an ordinary English engine. The steam is generated by spirits, and the engine draws a couple of trucks and a pa.s.senger-car.

When the steam is up, and the train is started, the reverend gentleman has to run his level best to get to the next station before the train, otherwise it would be "missing." When it does arrive at its destination, the fact is made known by an electric bell ringing automatically; and on close inspection of the photograph of the Jericho station the electric b.u.t.ton may be seen at the end of the tracks inside the depot. On the line between the stations there is a signal-box, with levers to work the signals, as complete in its way as any signal-tower in existence; and, as some one said who visited the line a short time ago, the only thing that is lacking on the line is the stentorian call of the conductor, "All tickets ready."

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIGNAL TOWER, AND ENGINE WITH SNOW-PLOUGH.]

The accompanying ill.u.s.trations, which are taken from photographs made especially for HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, are interesting in many ways. They were taken during the last winter, when snow was on the ground, and when experiments were being tried with a tiny snow-plough on the front of the engine to see if the track could be cleared. One of the ill.u.s.trations shows the plough at work in the cutting; and, as any one may see, the job is not a light one to clear the track at that spot. In one or two of the ill.u.s.trations interesting comparisons may be made as to the size of the bridges and the train with some of the small shrubs which have sprung up near the track; but such are the perfect proportions of the model track, signals, and station that unless some such object is compared with them or the size of the bricks in the wall is noted the photographs might be those of a normal train taken from a great distance.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CANTALEVER BRIDGE.]

The parts of the road representing masonry are not, of course, built of true stones, but simply of boards painted to represent them. The bridges, however, are sincere constructions in every part, each "timber"

being set in place by itself, and the whole construction made to rely on its own strength, without any false support. The steel tubular bridge Dr. Warneford had made for him, and it will bear the weight of a boy.

All the castings for the wheels and machinery of the engine and cars are perfect in their way.

The readers of the ROUND TABLE will remember that last fall we published a photograph of the perfect model of a trolley-car which not only ran by electricity, just as an ordinary car does, but had all the details, even to advertis.e.m.e.nts, that the trolley has. This trolley-car was an extraordinary piece of work; but whereas the Warneford engine is not more than eight inches long, the trolley was between two and three feet long. The care taken in constructing the English train, engine, and road must have been infinitely greater and the difficulties considerably increased on account of its smaller size; but such work is not impossible for any one with a mechanical turn of mind.

This whole railway, in fact, is a most interesting and suggestive piece of work, and ill.u.s.trates what mechanical ability and ingenuity can do, and how much amus.e.m.e.nt and profit even so busy a man as an English clergyman may find in working on such a thing as a hobby.

SOME DONT'S FOR SWIMMERS.

BY WILLIAM HEMMINGWAY.

It is just as dangerous to play with water as it is to play with fire.

Probably no sport is more dangerous than swimming, just as none other is quite so delightful. If you use proper caution no exercise is safer than swimming.

But what is proper caution? It is almost impossible to learn how to swim by reading any amount of printed instructions, but it is easy to learn how to take care of one's self in the water. One of the best swimming teachers I ever knew summed it all up in these words: Don't be rash.

Don't be frightened. It seems to me that no advice can be better than that. I think that one more rule is safe to follow, Don't "show off."