Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1873-08-23

road, stranger, haven't you?'
81 reckon I have" said Israel Es-
mayne, indiflerently. "I'm switch
man."
" 1t don't take up much of your time,
guess %
=" It's got to be looked after just the
same, though" said the tall Westerner,
as he lifted the last monster log from
the cart he was unloading to the thrifty
pile at the north end of his house.
"What time does the way train come
by p
cat o'clock
"Do you suppose could go to Mel
lcnville, and see the lumber dealers
there, and get back to the station again
by that time?''
Israel looked retiectively at the other
shore of the river.
"Well, you might," said he; "but it
would be IL pretty tight squeeze.
"I'm a good walker said the stran-
ger; and as he spoke he drew fiat
pocket flask from his pocket, uncorked
it with his teeth, and drank copious
draught. Israel Esmayne watched him
with eager, glittering eyes, like those of
some famished wild animal that scents
blood
Have a drink, friend,' said the
stranger, proifering the flask. Israel
Esmayne shook his head, with set teeth
and lividly pale cheek:
81 never drink, said he, hoarsely.
You would, | guess, if you could
get such stuff as this" said the man
g soft as oil and strong as fire. My
father imported it. There's not much
like it in the country. Taste, if you
don't believe me !"
Israel stood for moment, hesitating.
Then he cast an eager glance to the
right and to the left, as if half fearful lest
some one should see him, and grasping
at the bottle-drank !
The fevered blood mounted to his
cheek a strange sparkle came into his
eyes.
"Have you got more like that ?" he
whispered, hoarsely, approaching his
burning lips so closely to the mans ear
that he involuntarily started. "More?'
I've got another flask, but"
Will you leave it behind? I'll pay
you a good price for it. y
What for 2"
Israels eyes fell guiltily. Chin
case of sickness, you know. We can't
buy such liquor here-and it's lonely
spot. .
"You're right enough there, said the
man, laughing, as he drew out another
flask, the mate to the first. "Here,
take it. Pshaw, friend, put up your
purse You're welcome to it as a gift. "
And he was gone, plunging through
the high grass and bushes, all fringed
with scarlet cardinal flowers and nod
ding marigolds, before Israel could stay
him.
Israel Esmayne crept back to his
house or, rather, the rude log cabin
which was sort of hostage that one
day a real honc should rise on its foun-
dations, holding the flat bottle close to
him, and glancing round with furtive,
wandering eyes.
81 needed it., he said to himself
eyes, | needed it, l didn't know how
much until / tasted it. just one more
taste. 1t slips over ones palate like
glass, so smooth, so rich, so full of
strength. One more taste, and then"
When the clock struck 8 the whistle
of the way train sounded faint and far
off, and Israel Esmayne rose uncertainty
to his feet. The subtle, burning fumes
of the liquid flame had entered into his
brain ; the walls seemed to reel about
him, the stars to swim III the great blue
armament overhead. Nothing was real
all was faint, and far off, and vision
airy. But the chains of habit are hard
to shake off, and Israel had gone out at
o CLOCK every night for year. Crop
ing his way, and walking with slow, un-
steady steps, he went, still clasping the
partially emptied flask to his breast in
the inner pocket of his coat.
He could hear the rush of the river
below; he could see the rails of the
track glistening in the faint starlight;
and mechanically feeling under a clus-
ter of spice bushes for the switch key,
he knelt down and stupidity fumbled
there an instant. =:
"The way train" he muttered to
himself. Its all right And then the
freight train-half-past 9-a quarter to
10; and"
He stopped down by the river house
and wet his burning forehead with the
cool drops he could scoop up in the