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Show A LITTLE AND A BIG HERO. My two cousins and I had come from school to my uncle's estate, pale and overworked. Now, brown as berries, we felt strong and mischievous. The day was hot and suffocating. The air seemed to be laden with something more than the scent of new-mown hay and pine a flavor so common on a July day in Northern Russia, The grown people said: "The atmosphere atmos-phere is impregnated with electricity." and although we boys of twelve years did not know what that really meant, we were sure that, sooner or later, a storm would come, for the old shepard had said so, and he always told the truth. In the afternoon a black cloud rose oer the horizon in the northeast. An hour later a dark bank covered ha,lf the sky and we heard the far away rumbling of thunder. Rain began to fall. in large drops and we, standing on the grass-covered porch, amused ourselves in watching the chickens run, the ducks dive in the pond, the workmen hurry home and the cattle rush for the stables. An unexpected clap of thunder made us jump, and we quickly obeyed the call of my aunt to come into" the house, as we had no desire to stay outside any longer. It grew draker and -darker. The fiery zig zags of the lightning threw a yellow tint upon the people and furniture furni-ture in the room, and the thunder following fol-lowing quickly on the flashes made the mansion quiver to its foundations. A blinding flash, with a deafening crash almost at the same instant, seemed to make the old castle sway. "Surely that struck somewhere near," said my uncle, jumping to his feet and stepping to the window. "Yes, it is Michael Kubarkin's hut just across the river," he exclaimed. "I must go at once and see that the fire is put out." He turned to us, "Boys, you had better come along. I may need you." No need to ask us twice. We felt over-honored to be allowed to be of use nt such an important moment. In an instant we were In our high boots and rubber coats, and started for the fire. About twenty peasants stood around the burning house, lamenting and praying, pray-ing, but not one offering to lend a helping hand. "Quick." called my uncle. "Take some buckets; form a chain; try to put out the fire." "Your lordship," said one of the men, "lightning struck this house. Only milk will put out the flame." "Obey me." thundered my uncle, "and get to work or I'll put you on bread and water until you forget how milk tastes." Reluctantly the man started. My voung?r cousin, Alexey, was stationed to vv t. ten the superstitious crowd, with orders to report at once if any one refused re-fused to work or tried to steal away. "Now, boys," Ehouted my uncle, "let us see if there are any people in the house." Bravely we followed him into the snmke and heat of the slowly burning hut. We soon discovered the dead body ! X Michael Kubarkin and carried it out. Again and again we faced he danger, j We rescued two women and a baby. Thev had been merely stunned by the shoJk. While bringing the child out I had noticed a form lying near the door. Ir. the darkness and smoke could not distinguish whether it was a human being or a dog. I hurried back. My uncle called me, but 1 rushed in, dropped on my knees and crawled toward the spot where I had seen the form lying. It was a boy. U had been on hi3 way home in the next village and had sought shelter in the house from the storm. I dragged him out. and was about fifteen yards from the house - when there was an explosion. Kubarkin had bought ten pounds of powder at the last fair and had kept It in the large brick stove. . The hut collapsed. Some of the bricks whizzed by my head, uncomfortably uncom-fortably close, but the boy was saved, and with the aid of fresh air and a little brandy he soon came out of his stupor. ,. Ten years had passed, x was lieutenant lieu-tenant in the body guard 'of the czar, j Before Plevna we were forced into ac- I tive service One morning I- was ordered to take a private dispatch from the emperor to General Todleben. A guard of twelve men escorted me Avhen I started from headquarters. It was a bright morning morn-ing after several days of drizzling rain. The road through the foiest was very soft and we could make but very slow progress. At about 10 o'clock we reached an open valley. I ordered a halt to decided if I should cross the open space or turn to the left and keep in the woods until I had got out of sight and reach of the enemy. It would have been just twenty milesor&oTudj road. This dispatch was important and haste necessary, so I decided to move straiglit on. We had hardly reached the open valley val-ley when a small cloud of smoke from the northern fort of Plevna told me that we had been seen and were now a target for the Turkish guns. A short command from me brought my men into a line, so that the enemy had only one man to aim at. We were moving t full speed toward the protecting pro-tecting timber on the other side. The first shell fell short; the second burst fully a thousand yards behind us; the third ..was "dead," and passed fifty feet in front of us. We were almost in the shade of the tall pines when I heard a terrific crash and lost my senses. I'awoke very soon, with a stinging pain in my head. A man lay right over me. He was unbuttoning un-buttoning my uniform. The thought of a "war hyena" flashed through my mind. Cautiously I opened one eye just enough to see who my assailant was. To my astonishment I saw that it was one of my own men. He had noticed my movement, and whispered: "Keep still; we are the only survivors." "But man," said I; "take the dispatch dis-patch and get into safety." "No," he whispered; "I shall cover your body with mine until help comes. The Turks will fire again as soon as they see one of us move. You remember remem-ber the time you saved me from the burning house of Michael Kubarkin? Now is my turn to show that I have not forgotten that I owe my life to you." A few minutes later came a little troop from the timber, with the flag of the Red Cross. Eleven men were buried on the spot, and I was taken back on a stretcher, having lost one eye and suffering from a broken jaw. While the dead were being buried and the first bandages being put on me my brave soldier had disappeared, and one of the horses of the Red Cross command com-mand was missing. When I was discharged from the hospital I recognized in the sergeant of my regiment, who was the first to congratulate me on my -recovery, the soldier who had covered me with his body in the hour of danger. It was the boy I had dragged from the burning hut on my uncle's estate. The Independent. Inde-pendent. ' |