The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1870-09-27

A little more than half way across the
open prairie that lay between the railroad
terminus and the village was a tolerably
dense grove, and it was after sunset when
Patrick plunged under the shadows
Nor had he gone far before the gloom
rapidly deepened, the premonitory fash
es Of lightning, and the deep, smothered
roars Of the thunder gave token that the
storm was upon him.
"Now, an cud only git to the ould
log house, it 'ud kape me dhry. Howly
Moses, what big flash that was."
And, SO saying, Patrick broke into
very respectable trot, which quickly
brought him out into little weed-grown
clearing In the centre of this there was
a small log house, the deserted homestead
Of some discontented squatter who had
moved farther westward. 1t consisted of
but two rooms, front and back, aud all
vestiges Of doors and window shutters
had long since disappeared !; but it prom
ised some sort Of imperfect shelter from
the rain.
Patrick was just in time, for hardly
had he stumbled over the grassy thresh-
hold before the first big drops began to
patter, and these we're quickly followed
by such penetrating torrents as compelled
him to select his standing-place under as
good shelter as he could possibly find.
Bless me sowl, but this is wet rain,
anyhow I'd not like to be found drown
ed with another mans portmanty about
my clothes. Whist, now, Patrick, me
jewel-what's that?'
And, as he spoke, Patrick once more
advanced towards the doorway. 1t was
now all but pitch dark, and he could
hear the half-mufied voice of a man
whose profane utterances seemed to try
and direct another toward the shelter.
Here it is, Bob ; | wonder if there's
anybody in it ?"
''Not tonight, there won't be. Go
right in; we're comin'."
Patrick was no fool, and he had heard
something in the tones rather than in the
words-though these were mingled with
horrid profanity-which conveyed to his
mind the impression that the new COM
ers were men with whom he did not care
to scrapc an acquaintance; neither did
he like to 90 out into the storm-and so
he quietly glided back into the little
/" lean-to" that formed the other part Of
the house, and curled himself up against
the logs.
In moment more he perceived that
three men had taken possession of his
late quarters, and he lay as still as a
mouse, while they continued discussion
which had evidently been interrupted by
the storm.
He won't try to get over tonight, |
reckon"
Yes, he will, he's got to-"
But the storm ?"
He'll wait till that's over"
Maybe he's started"
"If he has, he'll turn back. We
are safe enough to bag him, an it's lit
tie the best lay we ever had such chance
at"
Pretty good pot, that's fact Do
you know how he's got it?"
"In valise, Jim says"
Well, we can take it as we'll in that
as in anything else, as the man said about
the whisky"
But what'll we do with him?"
dead men will tell no tales"
"That's the safest, l guess; and they
will lay it to the strikers"
Most likely Have you got the dark
lantern ready?"
Not much oil in it,"
"Let's fill it then. l went to get some,
and got into the boss's private office, and
| just found one little can hid away in
the desk. Not another thing was worth
bringing away. Here it is; let's fill up,
and take Il look round here"
Thus far, Patrick had listened with
breathless interest, while his mind tenn
ed with horrid visions of robbery and
murder As we have said, he was by no
means lacking in sharpness, and the ref
erence to the valise had not been by any
means re-assuring.
Howly mither how did they liver
know l was comm over wild the port
manly 4? I'd like to know that. Begorra,
L L 4 L 4