The Andrew County Republican. [volume] (Savannah, Mo.) 1871-1876, 1875-02-19
4 RACE FOR LIFE.

One hundred years ago there lived
upon the shores of Stevens river Ia small
stream emptying into Casco bay a man
named Peter John. An honest, upright
fellow, n good neighbOr and friend, but
with one abOminable habit, that won him
many enemies, and caused much dis
comfort and even suffering TO those
around him. This fault was an almost
irresistible fOndness for practical joking,
that would not allow him to let an Op-
portrmity pass unimprOved wherein he
could crafty this special passion of his
being.
There came a time, however, when the
exercise of this peculiarly brought upon
him an ordeal 50 sharp that it cured his
unfortunate propensity, to the great Joy
of lis family and friends. The process
was disagreeable, but the cure was eff
fectual and permanent.
One day Peter had been at work a few
IIllltS IlOLll liz lHbIljt. -1lltI HIS ildf .
labor was finished, his employer invited
him TO partake of the evening meal with
him this invitation Peter accepted, and
then, his system fortified with a hearty
supper, he commenced his journey
homeward.
The path which Peter trod that night
would lead one to-day through cultivated
fields and by many pleasant farm-houses,
but then it was an unbroken forest.
1t was a dark, cold December night,
the wind swept fitfully among the great
pines and beeches, and strange, mourn
ing sounds went sobbing through the
forest ; now and then an owl uttered its
hoarse cry, or the sudden rafting of the
dead leaves told where some timid ami
nal scurried away from the sound of
ootsteps.
But Peter was strong and stout-hearted,
and trudged quietly along, without pay
ing much attention to the sights and
sounds around him, until he had
achieved perhaps one-haif of his journey,
when suddenly his ears caught the sound
of a horses feet descending the long,
rocky path behind him. Gradually the
sound drew nearer, until the sharp,
peculiar voice of the horSeman could be
heard urging the beast to a faster gait.
"Ah! ha!" said Peter to himself, as
he heard the familiar tones, "that is
Uncle Tom Barry"
Now Uncle Tom and Peter were neigh
bOrs, that is to say, their clearings lay
about a mile apart, and none knew better
than Peter that the old man was natural
" of a timid disposition, and further
more, that nothing inspired him with
greater fear, nothing that he had not
rather meet, than a wolf.
No sooner, therefore, had Peter be-
come convinced that the hOrseman be-
hind him was his neighber than he re-
solved to use this trait of Uncle Toms
as a means of working out what he con-
sidared would be a most capital joke.
His plans were soon laid, and he proposed
to put them into execution. Creeping
through the underground which Dor
dered his path, he crouched down and
patiently awaited the approach of his
victim. He had not waited long before
Uncle Tom, his horse at a sharp trot and
himself casting timid chances around,
arrived opposite his place of conceal
ment. Peter allowed him to pass a few
PAGES, and then ~springing forward on his
hands and knees, he uttered one or two
snarling yelps, followed by the loud,
clear, gathering cry of the wolves.
The effect upon Uncle Tom was cleo
hical. Springing half way out of his
saddle, he uttered a scream of terror,
and then, stopping until his head nearly
touched the name, he plunged his spurs
into the horses tanks, and was off down
the road like a shot. As FOR Peter, he
rolled over on his back and kicked his