Tom Strong, Lincoln's Scout

Him-Dr. Hans Rolf Saves Him-He De

ifteen months thereafter, the North was in practical control of the whole Mississippi. By July, 1863, the Confederacy had been split into two parts, east and west of the "Father of Waters." That was the poetic Indian name of th

AL FA

y skin, had left the mansion, had sought a tumble-down tenement in the slums, and had found there a vu

goin'," said the darkey, "wid pap

o you

de door, when dey

white man. "The next train leaves in half an h

egro clutched at it. Then what was left of his conscien

me to. You ain't a-goin' to hurt dat boy Strong, i

him or not? What's a boy's life to winning the war? You keep on do

scanty belongings. With a pistol in his hip pocket, with a bowie-knife slung over his left breast beneath his

ld stick at nothing to get the precious papers he carried. Washington swarmed with Confederate spies. The face o

s possession would tell that great secret. Wilkes Booth meant to have those papers soon. As the train bumped over the rough iron rails, towards Baltimore, Booth went to

f seeing you about the White House sometimes, when I have been calling

offered hand willingly, but he searched his memory in vain for any real recollection of the striking face of the man who spoke to him. There was some vague stirring of memory about it, but certainly th

ea and land. Booth was trying to seem to talk with very great frankness, in order to lure Tom into a similar frankness about himself. He larded all his talk with protestations of fervent

protest too m

e more his easy, brilliant talk lulled caution to sleep. Tom, questioned so skillfully that he did not know he was being drawn out, little by little told the story of his s

d what his father had advised: "Never say anything to anybody, unless you are sure the President would wish you to say it." He shut up like a clam. Booth could get nothing more out of him. B

no sleeping cars then. People slept in their seats, if they slept at all. Booth's tones grew soothing, almost te

his arm under the sleeping boy's head, drew him a little closer to himself, and glanced through the dusky car. Nearly everybody was asleep. Those who were not were trying to go to sleep. No one was watching. Booth pr

e his stupefied victim to sleep off the drug while he himself sought safety at the next station, when one of those little things which have big results occurred. The sturdy man who was snoring in the seat behind this one happened to be a surgeon. He was returning from Washington, whither he had gone to operate on a dear friend, a wounded officer. Chloroform had of course been used, but the patient had died under the knife. It had been a terrible experience for the operator. It had made his sleep uneasy. A mere whiff from the sponge Booth had used reached the surgeon's se

the doctor. Close pressed, he whirled about and leveled his pistol at his unarmed pursuers. They fell back a pace. He whirled again, stumbled over a bag in the aisle, fell, sprang to his feet once more. A brakeman opened the door. He

happening. Instinctively, his hand sought that inner pocket, only to find it empty. Then, indeed, he was wide awake.

devote himself to him. An antidote was forced down his throat. Willing volunteers, for of course the whole car was now awake in a hurly-burly of question and answer, rubbed life back into him. When he was a bit better, he was kept walk

ear. "That scoundrel stole it from you. When he fell, he must have droppe

his trust. A profound thankfulness and joy stirred within him. Within an hour he was practically himself again. Then he poured out h

f, of York, P

he Hans Rolf I've heard about all my life. My father is always tellin

tor, surprised as may be imagined that t

Str

he Tom Strongs he knew, "By the Powers, next to my own name there's none I know so well as yours. My grandfather never wearied of

andfather's, too," answered Tom

r-effects of the drug that had been given him. The Hans Rolf he s

ou must stop at York and rest. I can't let my patient travel just yet, you know. A

West he went, as fast as the slow trains of those days could carry him. But when H

lue water-the early French explorers named the Ohio "the beautiful river"-into the muddy flood of the Mississippi. For miles below Cairo the blue and yellow streams seem to flow side by s

PPI RIVE

f the time when the trees which went to their making were growing in the forests. On a flat-boat of the ordinary Western-river type, Mr. Eads put a long cabin, framed of stout timbers, cut portholes in the sides, front and rear of it, mounted cannon inside it, covere

to finish his task and he was about to see the one successful soldier of the Union, up to that time. The Northern armies had not done well in the East-the defeat had been disgrace

pan, sat upon each box except one. Upon that one there lounged a man, thick-set, bearded, his faded blue trousers thrust into the tops of

ad asked him for terms of surrender, he had answered practically in two words: "unconditional surrender." The curt phr

zen of that unimportant town, when the Civil War began. Eight years afterwards, he became President of the United States and served as such for eight years, doing his dogged best, but far less successful as a statesman than he had been as a soldier. He was a patriot and a good man. In the last

ant took it, opened it, read it without even a slight change of expression, though it contained not only orders for the future, but Lincoln's warm-hearted thanks for the past and the news of

e to have you given a glimpse of the

, s

e you com

k ago,

ern boys of your

ld like t

y make up for the years you lack. Send him to General Mitchell, Captain," he added, t

me, Mr. Strong,"

yes now bent sternly upon Lincoln's letter, his staff eyeing him, a group of quiet, silent f