Knoxville journal. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1874-1986, 1874-07-16


and more sitting. But now the voice
was near 1t answered her, and she could
hear the cracking of the brush under the
| strangers feet; so she sat down to rest
and await his coming guiding him with
| her voice.
He soon stood at her side. A tall, hand
some young man, with full, silky beard
| and kind, honest, brown eyes.
Is there house about here?" he
| asked, surprised at seeing only little
girl and dog in this vast wilderness.
"Yes," said Betye; "and we must run,
too, with all our might. The fire is COM
ing on us fast"
She began to retrace her steps as fast
as she could, the stranger following her.
Showers of sparks began to fall about
them With such haste as desperation
makes they ran. Not word was spoken.
On, on, over fallen logs, scudding under
low dropping branches they went, now
glancing fearfully about them, lest the
| falling cinders should ignite the dry
leaves with which the ground was strewn
and cut off their retreat.
! A little blaze shot up ahead of them;
| but it died down again in moment. The
| young man, knowing nothing how near
or how far away the house might be,
gave groan of despair on seeing this.
| 1t would be hard to die now, almost
home; for this was Ralph Milburn, and
he knew no home but where his Lucy
| dwelt.
ave are almost there. We shall be
| out of the woods in few minutes" said
Betye, turning her head an instant.
And in short time they stood beside the
| door, painting and heated with their ex-
ertions.
lis there no one living here but you?"
asked Ralph, as he saw with surprise that
the house was silent and empty.
Father and live here. And he went
| to help put out the fire." said Betye.
See therel The fire will be all about
| not safe. The wind is blowing gale"
The young man had seen, as he spoke,
a cinder fall, kindling the dry leaves and
creeping along the ground. The wind
caught it and whirled it in u dozen direc-
tons and the underground caught and
| blazed up.
Bet we five cents this house'll be
burned up in about an hour!" said the
| girl, coolly. We must take to the Gel
! lar. We'd better not wait for the smoke
| to stifle us. Wisht you'd just bring that
meaI-bag that stands behind the door.
couldn't move it, it's so heavy; but Pap
won't want it burned up"
Ralph shouldered the meal-bag with no
| idea mt all where he was going with it.
Betye seized the skin on which she had
| slept the night before and dragged it
along, and in a half minute her 1.-THE
form had wriggled through the narrow
opening and down the rough ladder pull
ing the skin after her The strong hands
| of the young man then crowded the bag
| ~, IL Il fol nFn al hnt -
the cellar. He quickly followed, and the
poor dog, subducd and frightened
enough, was coaXcd and assisted to seat
| beside them.
Now we're all right-a little crowded,
maybel ! reckon you never lived in
| quite so small house." said Betye, with
laugh.
Never! never had such fearful Oc-
casion What strange delivcrance from
a dreadful DEATH 1t seems as if | must
| be in dreaml What shall ! render to
the Lord for this new token of His care
and iove?" said the young minister, still
standing at the opening and watching the
kindling woods.
Il reckon He knew about your bein'
in the woods and looked out for ye,"
said Betyc, thoughtfully. "But | don't
see how you managed to get oil your
track"
II started this morning for Mr. Dicks
place, which ! suppose is within three or
| four miles of this said the man.
| "Oh, hot Bet we five cents | can tell
who YOU BET" interrupted the child.
You're Ralph Milburn, and you've come
| to be the preacher and to marry our
school. miss!'
Right" And then, turning and scan
ming by the dim light the unabashed face
that met his gaze, the young man said:
You're u queer little girl but not bad
one, ] think. can tell you who you are,
| think"
"Whoy" asked Betyc, laughing.
1.-THE little girl they call Betye. Miss
Lucy has written to me of you"
HAS She though? ! dessay She was
allus writin'. Well, you're right, too"
And having found one another out,
Ralph Milburn and the little girl soon be-
gan to feel like friends
Now and then Betye scrambled up the
ladder to lean out and watch the progress
of the conhagration. The roof of the
| cabin soon caught fire, and all the even
ing the logs were burning and smoking.
| Night found them so weary with excite
mcnt that they could not but sleep.
When they looked out, at first break Of
udy, tncy WclC itJol'td w Stt tlidt u
steady rain was falling and the air was
once more clear and pure. They came
out, and Betye picked her steps over the
threshold and into the still smoking ruins
of the cabin.
There's coal in the fireplace yet"
said she, opening hole in the ashes with
stick; and straightway she commenced
preparations for breakfast.
"Bet we five cents | took care of the
skillet and the meat and the 'lasses; but
| don't know what ] should ha' done
about the cors.meal if it hadn't a-been
for you! Reckon might ha' saved some
i'm somethin' or other, so / wouldn't
starve," said practical Betye.
II shouldn't have wanted breakfast
this morning if it hadn't been for you
and the good Lord F" said her new friend.
They were still eating the corn-cake
which Betye had cooked over the Goals
in her skillet and some dried venison she
had saved, whenaa footstep was heard,
and directly the miner stood before them.
His only salutation was: "Hullop