Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1873-05-15

| tones on inc CNCuluS dll.
Peter bolted into the house like light
ming.
In his wild anxiety, he saw no one but
| the lady of his love, and Il man standing
| over her with dagger in his hand.
! Miss Delong must have tainted away, Or
| else the villain had stabbed her, for she
| was lying on a divan, pale as lily. Peter
| rushed up to her, eXclaiming:
"Saye you! Yes, [ will save you,
though ten thousand villains seek your
| precious life"
He raised her quickly and before any
| one could comprehend the affair, he bore
her into the street.
Here Mr.. Punch found his charge con-
! sidcrably revived and desperately deter
| mined to be released.
Fear not, my pretty pink, it is your
| own Peter Punch who has saved you
| The villain daren't show his head now"
Then out rushed dozen people of both
| sexes.
what are you doing with this lady,
| fellow" demanded a man Of herculean
proportions whom Peter recognized Us
| the villain of the dagger.
Il am protecting her from your muir
derous hand. Advance one step and YOU
| are a dead man :" and Peter drew out and
opened huge jack knife with one hand
while the other held Miss Delong Sc
curely
You must be an excellent actress
Louisa'' said one, since this fellow took
your distress to be rcal.'
Acting? only acting?" stammered Pc
ter, releasing Louisa, and pocketing his
knife with "a jerk. She amt theatre
woman, [ hope?"
=" Not by any means, Mr.. Punch; we
were enacting tragedy for our own
amusement. VIII you come in and wit
ness the last act?'
Not much, [ reckon, muttered Peter,
as he put in his best jumps for home.
Peter was finally disguised with himself
The next day he mounted his wagon
again for peddling tour. He was plain
ly never intended for Il hero, or anything
but a peddler.
He took an unfrequented road, which
led along near the sea, as he wished to
call at some fishers cabins.
Following bend in the road, he came
in full view of the sea. 4 woman was at
some distance in the water and seemingly
struggling for her life.
Peter knew by the hat she wore that it
was Louisa DelOng.
peter Punch, you are in luck at last,
certain sure Miss Delong is drowning,
and you must save her | hope she'll
swoon just as | reach her, and wake up to
find me bending lovingly over her ana
chatting her hands-that'S the way the he
roes I've read about acted"
AS he talked thus, Peter was plunging
furiously through the water toward Miss
Delong, who was quite unaware that a
rcscuer was at hand.
Peter made several lunges at her before
he succeeded in getting hold of her dress;
and thus drawing her toward him, he bore
her in triumph to the beach, nOtWithstand-
ing violent opposition, accompanied by
hystcrical screams from the young lady.
Mr. Punch, this is too outrageous! |
demand an explanation!' said she, indig-
nantly.
We'll. if I had known how YOU was
going to take on, | should have let you
drowned a few minutes longer. There's
no credit to be got saving anybody till
| they're going down the third time"
At this juncture two elderly ladies
emerged from the water, their garments
| dripping with brine
| "What is The meaning of this" asked
one Of them, stcrnly.
1t MEANS" says Peter, promptly, chat
| saved this young woman from a watery
grave, ana she insults me Tor 1t.
IF he supposed you drowning, Louisa,
he is pardonabe."
Supposed her drowningt And was it
possible, then, that she was not-that she
was only bathing2 1t seemed so indeed,
and Peter marched away crestialen
enough. When he reached the spot where
he left his horse, he was not there, and
Peter chased him for nearly an hour, his
garments feeling heavy and uncomfort-
able.
He found the beast, at length, standing
quietly before the door Of a farmhouse and
drove him to change his clothing
The would-be hero was confined to the
house for month with the rheumatism
after his last attempt at heroism. At the
end of that time he considered himself
cured both of his ailment and his love for
Louisa Dclong, often saying to HIMSELF:
"'Fine feathers make fine BIRDS"
Louisa want any prettier in that gray
bathing dress than Charity and the peony
red of her checks was all washed in streaks
by the waves. Charity don't paint, and,
what's more, she don't care whether I'm a
hero or not, and | mean to ask her to have
me the first time | see her.