210
The University Courier.
LITERARY.
The Lost Baby.
It was a terrible hot day. The sun shone down with unrelenting vigor from a perfectly clear sky, and seemed to take the very life out of everything. The prairie dogs and gophers had retired to the cooler air of their holes, and the few grasshoppers hardly seemed to care whether they got out of the way or not. Not a thing could be seen, except the regularly rolling prairie, and a few stunted trees over by the "run." The trail seemed extra dry and sandy, and the horses hoofs knocked up great clouds of fine sand, that surrounded the old "prairie schooner,"almost hiding it from view, as it wended its slow way along.
The schooner itself was a very dilapidated affair. All the paint had long ago been worn off the old wagon, and the wheels were patched up with pieces of rough wood. The wagon cover was made up of a variety of materials, from heavy oil-cloth to a piece of an old apron or dress, whose original color had long ago faded out. The rickety vehicle was drawn by two as tired looking horses as had gone over that trail for months. Their very bones seemed about to pierce their "buck-shin" colored hide, and their slow pace showed that they were not destined for a much longer sojourn on this earthly sphere.
The occupants of the curious looking wagon did not seem to be very greatly troubled by the forlorn aspect of their traveling outfit, for all them were asleep, except the driver. He was a solemn darky of the old school, and as he sat on the board that served as a seat, puffing a well blackened pipe, and now and then giving a lazy shake to the rope lines to arouse the slow moving horses, he looked the very picture of contentment. Now and then his notice would be attracted by something off on the prairie, and his wrinkled old face would show a interest in things about him that betokened a mind still active under its load of many years and hardships.
The schooner had been moving along for
sometime, when the occupants began to awaken from their sleep, and to move around a little. All at once they were startled into activity by the horrified exclamation of a young girl, whose skin was as black as nature could well make it.
"Fo' de Lord, whar's de baby?"
Everybody was up and awake in an instant, and there was a general scramble and search for the missing infant. The team stopped, and the old man crawled back into the wagon to see what was the matter. He received only disjointed exclamations in answer to his questions.
"De poo' precious lam' am los'."
"Dat's whut comes ob not habin' any indgate in de wagin. I allus 'lowed as how we'd loose somethin' sometime, and hyar's de baby done gone."
The mother of the numerous children stood on the ground, wringing her hands and crying that:
"It wuz allus de lublies' chile I eber had, and now to jist drap him out on de prairie, fo' de cayotes an' odder varmints to eat up,—it wuz too bad, too bad."
The whole dusky crowd got out of the wagon and cast longing looks back over the dusky trail, but no child could be seen. Only the endless line of road was in sight, as far as the eye could see.
The older heads of the family met together in council, and their decision was soon made. The sage advice of the old man prevailed.
"We betta' jist turn 'roun'an' go back 'long de road, till we fin'd dat boy, fo' we've got to fin' im."
They all climbed into the wagon, and started back over their old trail. No one went to sleep now. On the contrary, every eye was kept turned in the direction in which they were going, expecting every moment to see the object of their search; but no baby. They kept on and on until night fall, and only stopped when it became too dark to go further without being liable to pass the child in the dark.
About the time that we made the acquaintance of the schooner and its contents, there could have been seen; riding slowly along over the