“I see it,—he’s coming!” she screamed, as a feathery mist was discernible over the distant plains, and in a few moments more the cars swept round the curve, while a booming gun told that Bill Baker was faithful to his duty.
There was a swaying to and fro of the throng at the depot, a pushing each other aside, a trilling of fife, a beating of drums, and then a deafening shout went up as Tom Carleton and John Simms appeared upon the platform, carefully supporting the tottering steps of the weak, excited boy, who stood between them. At sight of Isaac, there was a momentary hush, and then, with a shriek such as a tigress might give when it saw its young in danger, the Widow Simms rushed frantically forward, and catching the light form of her child in her arms, tried to bear him through the cr
