Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-07-12
Hank was that the dripping of water !?

No! A sickly smile played over his
countenance He went to the table
and tapped lightly with his fingers, as
he had done before. In another mo-
ment the taps were answered, and he
involuntarily counted as they came
one-two-three- four-fve-six-
en-then all was silent. He made the
call second time; he tried it over and
over, and at each response it licked
seven times, never more, never less, but
seven times, clearly, distinctly. Sud
denly he sprang up, and, through shut
teeth, Kissed:
!" lhe seventh day, by heavens But
I'll cheat YOU'LL not kill him!" 81
He darted noiselessly down the stairs
and struck out through the woods. In
half an hour he emerged on the edge of
the clearing, q dozen yards from a
choppers cabin. Creeping stealthily to
the door, he shook it, then, after a mo-
ment's irresolution, cried out:
"Peters Peters look out for Shift
let. He has sworn to murder you to-
night"
Without waiting for a reply, he
sprang away, and was quickly lost
among the trees.
A moment afterward a tall form
arose out of the shadow of a stump
near the cabin, and passed rapidly in
an opposite way.
AT the summit of the hill east Of
Agatha, steep precipice is formed by
great, bare, projecting rock. From
the valley, its outline resembles an en-
ormous face in profile, and they call it
"The Devils Head" The full moon
rendered the unbroken mass of cloud
translucent, producing peculiar, sin
lister effect. The mist still blew through
the air, but in the zenith there was a
dull, ashan hue, and the surrounding
cloud was the color of earth. The far.
Oft hills loomed up majestic, terrible,
against the gloom; nearer objects were
strangely magnified in the tawny light
At the foot Of this phantom crag, on a
terrace, is the ore-bank and blackened
coal shed. Below rose the metal stack,
from whose stone hearth a waste Of
sand sloped gently to the creek. The
furnace squatted grim and black. Its
>blcod shot eye was shut; it's gaping
throat uttered no sigh, no groan; it's
throbbing pulse was stilled-the fierce,
struggling monster was dead. The only
bright spot In all the valley was the
yellow circle made by the watchman's
lantern in the coal shed.
After leaving the 'choppings," Monk
threaded his way through the forest,
coming out at last on the open road.
This road led directly over the Devils
Head" and entered the valley by steep
descent half mile to the south. At
the precipice Monk paused. The wind
eddied with mournful wall, and the
constant motion Of tall trees gave the
scene almost the waverlng, unsubstan-
tial appearance of vision. There was
something oppressive in this strange
midnight twilight, but Monk did not
feel it. He only felt relief, inexpressi-
BILE relief; he only stopped there to
breathe-to breathe freely once more
with the heavy weight thrown from him.
After moment he ran carlessly down
the hill, passed under the ore cars and
into the coal-shed. He hailed Patter-
son, the Waterman, and the lantern
threw gigantic shadows of the two men
over the ground Then he walked
along the narrow cinder road leading to
the bridge ever the creek. Sometime s
the willows that grew On either side
swept their damp hair against his face.
An hour ago he would have started con-
vulsively, now he needed not, for he was
free and light of heart.
Monk reached the stairs, and ascend
ed to his room. AS he passed in, the
powerful figure of Shifet sprang upon
him from behind. There was a scufhe,
some muttered oaths, then heavy fall.
Monk lay stretched upon the floor, mo-
tionlnss, lifeless, and the echo of fleeing
steps died away, leaving the place as still
as the now silent death watch.