Kansas University Weekly.
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along the foot of the hill, in order to cut off escape in that direction, while the rest were to advance from the road. The latter detachment had not reached their position when they heard the firing and came up on the charge. The Lieutenant's party were creeping down the hillside when they saw us approaching. He realized at once the condition we were in and passed whispered orders to his men to crawl to the edge of the pit; he then had to wait until we were posted and out of the way before he could fire. It was the noise of the carbine locks as the hammers were drawn back that we had heard, and the whispered order of the Lieutenant to his men to wait for the word before firing, had come to our ears like a reprieve from heaven. The whole affair was a little too dramatic to suit me.
In the excavation we found the bodies of fourteen bushwhackers, and at the foot of the hill there were enough dead bodies to satisfy us that we had wiped out the gang that had caused
us so much trouble. There were no wounded. The affair would most likely have cost me my commission if the truth had been made known, but the Captain reported that the gang had been exterminated in a trap planned by the sergeant and myself, and in the end brought us promotions."
That is the story the military man told us that night, by the fireside in the old Mormon house at Tahlequah, while the pipes glowed and the smoke curled to the ceiling. That is the story he told, and he told it well, far better than I have been able to tell it to you, and no story was ever listened to with as eager interest in the old room as that of the adventure of the military man. Sometimes when I sit and think of the tales I have heard and the men that told them, I think of the gray-haired military man with the manners of a soldier and of a gentleman, and I think of the story he told, and I find myself wondering—and I really wish I knew—whether he was a real hero or just a good off hand liar. LUTE P. STOVER.
LOGALS.
The Chancellor's Reception.
Everyone who has seen Spooner Library from a distance in the evening, when the lights within the building were glowing forth upon the darkness without, has noticed how suggestive the scene is of a great steamer looming up through the night and sending out from every window of her saloon a bright radiance upon the water about her. This likeness has seldom been more vivid than it was upon last Friday evening, when Chancellor and Mrs. Snow held their second reception of the present school year to the students and faculty of the University. The sky was gloomy, and there was that strange quietness which usually precedes a rain. But in spite of these portents more than one hundred and fifty young people found their way to the Hall.
The room was simply and tastefully decorated
in various ways. Under the east windows, graceful palms trembled or gently waved in the varying currents of air. Upon a table in another corner stood a huge punch bowl filled with lemonade. Along the sides of the hall, beneath the high windows, wandered a row of chairs and divans; now in tolerably straight lines, now in various mild curves, and now demoralized into loops or circles, or groups of nameless forms.
From the ceiling, the little constellation of electric lights beamed pleasantly upon the gay scene below. Near the door stood the Chancellor and his wife, greeting with extended hand and smile of welcome every guest who entered. In the middle of the room, in groups of various sizes and shapes, stood the guests, chatting merrily, or listening to words of especial wisdom from some chief speaker of their num-