The Frontier. Published by D. K. CHOHIK IiOMAlNK SAUK DC KM. Assistant Editor and Manager. SI M the Year. TS Cent* 81* Months official paper of O’Neill and Holt county. ADVERTISING HATES: Display advertlsmonts on pages 4, A and 8 are chatgcd for on a basis of 4 knew that I he would fight tbr »gh his opponent were twice his size, and so we did not cross his path except we very strong ; ly felt that the god of battles and (justice was on our side. The snow lay deep on the ground , till late in the spring of 1881, as resi j- dents of Dakota at that time will re ji membex Then the sun’s rays, which !: so long had seemed to lack vigor, of a suddira became potent, and the snow moved off in raging floods of water, ij The “J un” river, ordinarily little more than a creek, became a resistless tor I rent, sa some places three or four j miles wide, and the cabin homes of * the se ttiers scattered along the valley g*nen|ly w^re'swept away. To walk atocg its DanKs men was to look upo»v a gray desolation of waters, only broSQ, en here or there by floating cabins or barns or the white glitter of great cakes of lee. Some of us boys were so walking one afternoon when a shanty floated past us. Tossed here and there by the flood, ground among Ice-floes and beaten by trees set afloat by the wat ers, It was a question of but short* time until it must go to .pieces. “Fellers," suddenly shouted one of the boys, “ain’t dat a kid cryln’?” We listened a moment. Then over that waste of waters floated a little walling voice that came from the floating cabin. We looked into one another’s eyes, while the tiny voice still wailed, and I hope that God will preserve me from ever again hearing a sound so pitiful. What should he done? What could be done? I think the answer of my despairing heart to the latter question was the answer of\ every boy there—nothing. Of every boy save one. While we still stood In awful silence—a silence on which that thin cry yet heat—little Jack spoke. “Youse fellers,” he said, “stan’ ready to pull me in w’en me an* de kid gitsl back.” V, And. before we fully realised what he was about to do, his coat and shoes were off, and he was battling with the cold, cruel waters. We watched the little black head as “to do—kid—safer -A It made its devious way onward, here 7 dodging a cake of ice, there skirting a floating tree, until at last—Hurrah! He had gained the shanty! A moment he disappeared from view; then he appeared at a window with a wee brown bundle in his arms. "De ole folks is both drowned,” we heard him shout, as we ran along the shore by the side of the whirling cabin. Then he again was hi (he water, and we hardly breathed as he battled shore* ward. It was a life or death struggle for every foot of advancement, but his life had given him hardihood, if noth ing else, and slowly—oh, so slowly— he made hAs way with the burden, whence came no vj now. As hh, yes. little Jack; we told you that you had saved the babe, and our whisper was almost as low as yours as we assured you that this was so. The little black head sank down. Then, very slowly, the eyes again opened, and in a faint whisper was heard; “I’m—damn—glad.” Then, while the flood flowed on, the neglected, soul of little Jack went out on a deeper and darker flood which no more shall beat earthward for him. And this is why I say that I some times think heaves must be a place of • surprises. But greatest of all its sur- | prises to me, if ever I should reach the beautiful city of love, would be to And no little Jack there, a pupil in such a wonderful school as his life never knew.—Alfred J. Waterhouse in New York Times. An Apt Pupil. “The great trouble with you," said Mrs. Jaggsby to her husband the nest morning, "is your inability to s^y 'no.' Learn to say It at the pro tar time and you will have fewer heMk aches.” I “I can see where you are right, my dear,” replied he of the throbbing temples. "By the way," continued Mrs. J., "I want to do a little shopping to day. Can you let me have |10?” “No," answered the wily Jaggsby without a moment’s hesitation. Judgment Suspended. Mrs. Homer—“What did your hus band say about your new tailor-made gown?" Mrs. Nestdoor—"Not a word. He hasn’t seen the biU yet."