THE RED WING. By DAN DE QUILLE. [Copyright, 181SJ, by American Press Associa tion.) CHAPTER 1. THE WRECKED EMIGRANT FAMILY. Ono scorching hot day in October. 1800, l left tho littlotowu of Dayton on the Carson river for Carson City, now the capital of the state of Nevada. It was as hot as in midsummer. The road was at that time a dreary one to travel. It was the regular "Old Emigrant road" —tho road leading from tho sink ot the Humboldt across the great Humboldt desert to the Carson river, thence over the Sierra Nevada mountains by way of tho Placerville route to California. I was on foot and had before mo a tramp of over 13 miles with not a human hab itation in sight. My road lay through a sterile wasto of alkali lands that spread away on almost a dead level in all di rections to distant ranges of barren and rocky hills. Wearily 1 toiled through the sand and alkali dust—the same sand and dust through which had toiled during that summer and every summer since 1849 long emigrant trains from the states east of tho Missouri river. At the time of which 1 am speaking thousands of emigrant wagons were still rolling in across the "plains” every summer, and for some years later—until a railroad was built across the continent—they continued to porr in across the moun tains and deserts. But as 1 tramped along I saw neither trains nor single wagons. It was late in the season for emigrants to be abroad. Most of those on the plains that year had reached and crossed the Sierras in September Even the traders at the posts out near the deserts had folded their tents and re turned to California, considering their trade over for the season. i hough no wagons were m sight on the road, signs of the great stream of emigration wore to lie seen on all sides. The trail along w.^Hi had moved the I great annual procession was well mark ed. The carcasses of hundreds and thou sands of cattle, horses ami mules strew ed tho ground for several hundred yards on each side of tho road. Some of these carcasses were those of animals that had died only the week or the month before perhaps, while others were those of animals that had there fallen and died as early as 1849 or 18fs0. Here on these alkali plains dead animals be come mummies. They do not decay as in other places, but dry up. It was about on that portion of the road over which 1 was traveling that such animals as had received deadly doses of alkali on the Humboldt, the Twenty-five Mile and other great des erts succumbed and fell to rise no more. The early settlers made miles of fences, both in town and country, out of the skins of the mummified animals that Btrewed this road, for at that time there was no lumber in the country. Twist ed thongs made of the skins were stretched between posts as we now see wire fences made in many places. In this way both town lots and ranches were inclosed. As I was plodding along 1 had sev eral times caught glimpses through the flickering heat waves that hovered over the alkali whitened plain of an object that looked like a small tent pitched in the midst of tho broiling desert. At last 1 was able to make out that the white object was a small covered wag on, standing directly in tho road. Finally, as 1 approached, 1 could see several persons seated on tho roadside near the wagon, a small two horse af fair. Then I saw that one of the horses was down, while his mate stood by with drooping head. “Here is trouble,” said I. “Evi dently a sick horse. ” When I pulled up alongside the ship wrecked family, not one of them said a word. They were the most woebegone and forlorn party I had ever seen on the plains. They hardly raised their heads to look at me. All seemed utterly de jected—given over to some inconsolable grief. A hasty survey of the scene before me showed a small and light two horse wagon, looking very shaky about the wheels, broken about the box and sur monnted with a cover stretched over hows of very unequal height. The cov er was of homespun linen, was patched in places with pieces ot butternut col ored jeans and had painted on one side in great sprawling letters the defiant warwhoop “Calefomy or Bast.” A large water cask was slung underneath the wagon, and a red feed trough, near ly gnawed in two^Hmng behind. In front of the rh>y wagon stood an old bald faced horse, still attached to the vehicle by the trace chains and his end of the neckyoke. Poor old fel low! Such another angular, harness galled, sunken eyed, melancholy beast 1 had not seen in many a day. Near by his mate lay dead—“alka lied." He seemed to have dropped down in his tracks and died—died with no greater struggle than to throw his head and neck out across the footpath running by the side of the wagon track. On a fragment of rock near the dead horse sat a man—a man about 45 years of age—looking as though hope had ut terly forsaken his breast. His feet, in cased in alkali reddened and torn bro gans, were half hidden in the dnst of the road in which they were listlessly planted. His head was bowed until it almost reached liis knees, and the wilt ed brim of his home wrought straw hat almost concealed his sun browned and unshaven face. Near to this man—the head of the family—sat a bundle—a bundle which 1 should not immediately have recog nized as a human being had 1 not ob served a pair of shriveled, clawlike hands clasped across what seemed the knees. There was something so weird about this object in its shapelessness that, after 1 had discovered it to be alive and evidently human, it quite fas cinated me. I found myself constantly | turning to watch it. A rather star tling phenomenon was that the handle continually rocked to and lro and occa sionully gave out some kind of mutter ings, daring the delivery of which il rocked quite violently. As the face and all the upper part of the body were covered with a huge sunbonnet—a bon net to which was attached an extraor dinarily voluminous cape—1 arrived at the conclusion that the mumbling '' par ty” before me was a woman and prob ably the grandmother of the“expedi tion. ’ ’ Two boys of about 8 and 10 years, each with his baggy tow linen trow sers hitched up nearly to his chin, sal flat in the dust at the head of the dead horse, whose nose one of them was fondly stroking. The faces of both were smeared with dust and tears, ami both were still quietly blubbering and whispering together. A girl of about 17 sat in the front of the wagon, vainly striving to quiet a child that was moaning in a weak, sick way in her arms. The features of the girl were finely formed, hut her face was sadly sunburned. Her bonnet was off, and a wealth of brown hair fell in waves over her shoulders and hung m tangles ubont her face. At a glance it was to be seen that many cares and troubles had fallen upon this young girl, leaving her little time in which to think of herself or her personal appear ance. A little girl, with flaxen locks hang ing about her eyes, was on her knees be side the young woman, leaning over the end board of the wagon and gazing with bine eyes full of wonder upon all around—that is, when she was not en gaged in gnawing, childlike, at the board upon the edge of which tier two littlo brown paws rested. All this I saw almost at a glance. For some mo All this I saw almost at a glance. merits 1 stood gazing on the really dis tressing scene, yet no one broke the sor rowful silence. They seemed persons who had seen so little of kindness and who had received so little aid or sym pathy from any ono that they had lost faith in their kind. At last 1 went up to the man seated on the small bowlder. 1 touched him on the shoulder and said, “Stranger, you appear to be about at the end of your string here. ” “Yes, sir. Clean done for! Clean done for!” giving me a single mourn ful glance, then turning to pick ab stractedly at a thread in a blue jeans patch on tho knee of his butternut trousers. At first 1 felt like laughing as I gazed upon tho lugubrious faces all about me, but a moment's reflection showed me that, as the man said, they were “clean done for, ” sure enough. Not a man nor a team was in sight in any direction. All about lay the sterile, waterless alkali waste, covered or rather made ragged by a sparse growth of sagebrush. “Have you any money, my friend, with which to buy another horse?” 1 at last asked, though 1 felt that it was an idle question. “Money!” cried tho man, as though startled and shocked at the question, and ha turned and looked me full in the face for the first time with wide open eyes. “Money? No, sir. Not a cent, sir—-not tho first red centl That thar team was all I totch from ole Mis souri with me—it was my only hope.” Again he relapsed, hung his head and resumed picking at the patch on his knee, just as though having said all that could be said in regard to the sit uation it was useless to waste breath in further talk. 1 stood hesitating for a moment and then again shook the man up: "Stran ger, what do yon think of doing? If yon stay here, all hands of you will perish. This is a terrible place, my friend 1” " Wa-al.I kain’t somehow think what ter do.” 6aid the man, without raising his head. “I’m er tryin ter think, but somehow 1 kain't think.” CHAPTER n. GRANDMOTHER MUMFORD, “THE LIVING BUNDLE.” The living bundle seated on the road side bank near at hand now attracted my attention, it began to swing back and forth m a very violent manner, and at last, after some few’ preliminary in ternal rumblings, it gave utterance to these words:“Oh, .Mumford! Oh. Mum ford 1” Turning to the man on the rock, 1 shook him up and asked. "Is your name Mumford?” “No, sir,” said he. “No, she’s a-thinkin of—a-thinkiu ’bout her ole man—him she lost. ’’ “Well, come, rouse up, my friend!” cried I, almost losing ray patiei :e. “You can’t remain here with this fam ily on your hands. What do you think of doing?” “1 know it’s bad for the folks,” said the man, never raising his head, “but what kin 1 do? I’m clean done for, an I try to think what ter do, but some how 1 kain't think.” “Oh, Mumford! Oh, Mumford!” cried the old lady hidden somewhere within the bundle in such a loud and thrilling tone that 1 turned and looked at her in alarm. She was rocking her self at such a rate that she seemed to oounce an inch or two oil tue ground at each pendulnmliko vibration. Again all was silent. The old lady was still diligently vibrating, hut was now voiceless. The man on the rock seemed trying to pull an idea of seme kind out of the patch on the knee of his trousers. "Pore ole Betty!" said one of the lit tle boys as he patted the neck of the dead mare, as 1 now discovered the horso to he. '‘Pore ole Betty!'’ "Will daddy leave her wif all of der nasty dead cows'/” queried the younger boy, trying to open and look into one of the dead mare's eyes. About this time I felt a sort of lump rising in my throat and began to want to see something like action somewhere. "Come, my friend,” said 1 as a thought struck me; "rouse up!” slap ping the man on the back. "There are dozens of big freight teams going hack to California every day from Virginia City, and all return without back loads of any kind. You here are not far from the main California road, and one of these return teams will haul you and all your traps. Come, my man, you’ll be all right yet!” “But 1 hain’t got no money. ’Tain’t no use. I’ve seed teams and teams, an I’ve axed ’em to help me along. None ot 'em wouldn’t haul me. They all come on an left ns alone back in the des erts. They all talked money, money— money fust an money last. 1 hain’t got no money. ” "But that was while your team was still on its legs. Now they can’t re fuse. Besides, tho California teamsters are very different men from those who passed you on the plains, where it is ‘devil take the hindmost.’ "1 tell yer ’tain’t no use!” cried the man pettishly. "Oh, Mum ford! Oh. Muinford!” cried the old lady, and she began to bounce about so violently that I feared t;he would roll off tho bank into the road. "Tut, tut, mammy!” remonstrated my man. Beginning to lose patience witli all this idlo mummery, I turned suddenly to the swaying bundle and said, “For God’s sake, what is tho meaning of all this nonsense about Mumford?’’ This was like giving the bundle an electrical shock. Half sxiringing from her seat, the old woman gave her im mense poke bonnet so vigorous an up ward thrust that it was sent flying from her head into tho dust, exposing to view for the first time a thin, wrinkled face and spare, diminutive form—a little “atomy” of a woman. "What is the nonsense about Mum ford? Is that what you ask, sir? There is no nonsense about Mumford!” Her alkalied gray hair stood bristling all over her head. A wild light burned in her sunken gray eyes, and she stretch ed out toward me a skinny arm and clawlike hanu almost in a menacing manner. "There never was any non sense about Mumford! No, sir! Mum ford. sir, was my husband for -10 years, and there was no nonsense about him! But," she added in a calmer tone, "Mumford is not—he is no more. He sleeps on the banks of Green river. We left him there. He sleeps there un der the trees, where 1, too, should sleep!!’ Her hand dropped, and in a sobbing voice she said: “Yes, under the trees, thank God for that! Under the beautiful green trees! He was bom among the tall green trees of Kentucky, lived among trees all his life, died among trees! When, far ont in the des ert, the doctor told him he was dying, that he had only a few minutes to live, he asked to be raised up that he might look ont of the wagon. ’No,’ said lie, '1 can’t die here, and, what is more. ! won'tl There is not a tree in sight! Drive on! When you’ve come to some decent sort of place for a man to die in, i won’t fight against going.’ He lived, sir, while the wagon crawled over miles and miles of desert—lived till we reach ed Green river and was laid on his bed nnder the trees. Then he took my hand and said: ‘Ah. the trees are green, and I hear the birds singing. Sally, goodby —I’ll die now.’ 1 said 'Goodby, Mum ford, ’ and he was dead, ” ‘Thomas! Thomas!” called a shrill but weak voice from the wagon. “Thomas, is that mother a-talkin?” Thomas—the‘‘doubting Thomas”— who had all this time remained sitting dejectedly on the rock, arose and slouch ed along to the wagon, hardly lifting his feet above the dust. The animated bundle followed Thom as with her eyes. Turning to me, she then said: “I’m his mother-in-law. He’s a stick—a perfect stick!” said she decidedly. "Yes,” repeated she, “a perfect stick! Ob, that by keeping Mumford before him—that by calling Mumford up in bis mind—I could get him to show a little of the spirit of Mumford!" In a moment Thomas came back and said to me: *‘Nancy—that’s my wife, sir—wants to see you. She’s a-lyin sick jn the wagon. ” Nodding to the young girl, who was holding tho sick child at the front of the vehicle, and placing a hand on the flaxer. locks of the little ono by her side, 1 looked into the interior of tho‘‘fam ily mansion” just as a tall, thin, hol low eyed woman was rising from some quilts. Resting in a sitting position by hold ing on to the side of the wagon, the wo man gazed wistfully at me. "1 am told that you are ill. good woman,” said 1. “Oh, yes, sit—very, sir! I’ve moun tain fever.” Now that I fully comprehended the distressed condition of this poor, sick, friendless, moneyless, shipwrecked fam ily, 1 was so overcome that, as I stood facing the wistful eyes of the sick wo man, I knew not how to speak in a way to comfort her. Nodding toward the young girl hold ing the infant, the woman said: ‘‘Mary says she heerd you tell daddy—my hus band out thar—that some of the teams goin 4ack to Califomy might help us. Oh, sir, if they only would! When pore ole Betty stopped, fell down and died, everything for ns stopped right thar. in 1 a mint every hope wo n tuic:<, rure and safe. This Includes Gleet and Gonorhoea. TRUTH AND FACTS. We have cured cases < f Chronic Disease? that have failed to g< t cure l at the bauds of other special ists and medical institutes. —cr g r tha« there j= hope for You. Consult no ot tier, us you may waste valuable time. Obtain our treatment at once. Beware of free and cheap treatments. We give the best and most scientific, treatment at moderate pric es—as low as can be done for sate ai.d skillful treatment. FREE consultation at the office or by mail. Thorough examination and careful d'.ag n.osJs. A home treatment ran be given ill a majority of eases. Send for symptom Blank No. 1 for Men; No. 2 for Women; No. 3 for Skin Diseases. All corre spondence answered promptly. Business strictly con fldential. Entire treatment sent free from observa tion. Refer to our patients, banks and business men. Address or call on DR. HATHAWAY & CO., S. E. Corner Hixth and Felix Ht*., Rooms 1 and (Up Stairsj HT lOHEPIV. MO. | RipnsTabules. ] : Ripans Tabules are com- • i rounded from a prescription ] • widely used by the best medi- : j ca! authorities and are pre- • f sented in a form that is be- : • coming the fashion every- \ l where. : . Ripans Tabules act gently \ l but promptly upon the liver, : ♦ stomach and intestines; cure \ : dyspepsia, habitual constipa- • i tion, offensive breath and head- : ♦ ache. One tabule taken at the j t first symptom of indigestion, • : biliousness, dizziness, distress : ♦ after eating, or depression of : i spirits, will surely and quickly • ♦ remove the whole difficulty. : ♦ Ripans Tabules may be ob- : | tained of nearest druggist. • : Ripans Tabules j : are easy to take, : : quick to act, - : : rave many j ; '■ r's bill. _ ; DflMQER 5IQMLS SET MEN THINKING. Head-ache, Toss of Appetite, Wakefulness, Nervousness, Back-ache, Drawing-down-ach ing Pains in the Small of the Back, Weaken ing Eyesight, Dropsical Swellings. Shortness of Breath, Frequent Desire to Unnate, Con stipation, Hot Dry Skin, are DANCER SIGNALS and indicate KIDNEY DISEASE. BE WARNED IN TIME . . . . . . IT IS NOT TOO LATE OREGON KIDNEY TEA WILL RESTORE YOU TO PERFECT HEHLTH, TRY IT. What is it? ft is a brittle. What is in the bottle? Syrup. Why do I see it in so many houses? Because everybody likes it. What is it for'.'1 For coughs. eoids. croup, whooping cough and consumption. What is its name? Parks Cough Svrup. When Eaby was sick, we gave her Castoria. When she was a Child, she cried for Castoria. When she became Miss, she clung to Castoria. When she had Children, she gave them Castoria. Clothing sales agent wanted for Me Cno!c and vicinity. Liberal commissions paid, and we furnish the best and most complete outfit eve provided by any house. Write at once for terms. Send 2 or 3 references. Wnnamaker & Brown, Philadelphia. Pa. A cup of Parks' Tea at night moves the Dowels in the morning without pain or discomfort. :?old by A. McMillen. G. W. Williamson, M. 0. SPECIALIST CAN TREAT You BY MAIL MOW? 11s i\ two-ccnt stump for full particu 1 » . whirls are mailed in a plain envelopy !! correspondence done in the utmost pr» v.ivy. Advice free. Don’t delay* but write tv* us to-day. T*Rf5I Private, Nervous, Chronic vf C UUlfH dlseanen. Female Wcak • s. Mi o a..ii'«Voini‘ii myde strong by a fy sif t#*eir particular trouble. 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Teeth extracted in the morning, new ones inserted evening of same day. Tectli filled without pain, latest method. Finest parlors in the west. Paxton Sr— dr, r. w. bailey, OIVI^Ha*. ... txfcB. Sj)N CUBi\ Japan TEA ! HIGHEST GRADE GROW*. ; CHASE & SANBORN ; JAPAN. I C. M. NOBLE, LEADING GROCER, McCOOK, - NEB. SOLE AGENT. ► ALL PHOTOGRAPHS ON« < silk handkerchief, i 1V Wall oh a pond Plj'-fp, n «Ii'Ip I row or old • Silk IIand*T 'k kerckief, wllh n I'. O. *>r hvpr<->s Siiiirr Or>i« r for and wo will I’hoiorraph ih«* |iiro.r* on i d.* 'Ilk. Renat I-41 l ful effect. PKhUvMM pic.ur... HIM. NOT FA UK orTl ✓ HaMI out, I -stfc furewr, evr/l.odj ! * //r* . deuphted. i yf&ys/ photo k. .T?T".stup'py.3-;’■ ;ysj5T.nmahah WE TELL YOU nothing new when we state that it pays to engage in a permanent, most healthy arid pleasant busi ness, that returns a profit for every day’s work. Such is the business we ofier the working class. We teach them how to make money rapidly, and guarantee every one who follows our instructions faithfully the making of StfOO-OO a month. Every one who tak« - hold now and works will surely and speedily increase their earnings; there cun be no question about it: others now at work are doing it. and von, reader, ran do the same. This is the best pa; ing business that you have ever had the chance to secure. You will make a grave mistake if yen fail to give it a trial at once. If you grasp th* situation, and :.rt quickly, you will directly find yourself in a mo t prosperous business, ai. which you ran .1 r* 1/ make and save large sums of money. Tin* results of only a few hours* work will often equal a week’s wage-. Whether you are old or young, man or woman, it makes no di)f* r* n a*, — bo a- w»- tell you, and Suc re's will meet you at the very 'tart. Neither experience or capital nece"ary. Those who work for us are rewarded. Why not write to-day for full particulars, tree r E ALLEN & CO., Box No 4‘SO, Augusta, Me. w ood’s rnospiioDiNii y The Great Enslleti Remedy, Promptly and permanent ly cures a. 1 forms of Rervou* I weal:twas, Emission*, Sperv. Iatorrhta. Jmjrttency and all ■ effects of Abuse or Excess*'.’ ’ Been prescribed over 35 jears in thousands of cases; is the only Reliable and. Hon est Medicine knoxcn. Ask ldruesrl9t for Wood’s Pro tie fore and After* fh^dhiz; ir he oners some J ' * worthless medicine In place of this, leave his dishonest store, Inclose price In letter, and we will send by return mail. Price, one package. #1; six. #5. One %oil! pleats, tlx trill cure. Pamphlet In plain sealed envelope. 2 stamps. ,>ddres* The Wood Chemical Co. 131 Woodward Ave . Detroit. Mich. For sale by L. VV. McConnell & Co., G. M* Chenery, Albert McMillen in McCook and by druggists everywhere.