Bozeman avant courier. [volume] (Bozeman, Mont.) 1872-1882, 1878-02-07


unusual event in this mountain solitude
le but one in the middle of winters nigf
is only suggested burglars or murlerers. A
" last the door opened a narrow crack, an
the coachman, in his shirt and drawer.
" stood peering out, candle in hand.
,e "Who's there?'' in Il broad Irish tongue
D. "lts H. persuasively. "a messenge
re from Philadelphia, on business to Mr.. Sui
Y. tOn.''
[e MIR. Sutton's gone. But there's whee
h O. men folks about the house." hastily.
l. "I'm no housebreaker," edging his WI,
e in. spray give my respects to Mrs. Sut
= tOn," loudly, for he caught glimpse o
white skirts on the stairs, ''and say tha
e young Mr.. Duclitf is here and begs she vii
e give him shelter for the night. L, well, t.
n the truth, I'm exceedingly cold and hun
e gry.''
/ keep out, keep out young man; II
V .onsoolt Mrs. Sutton" Ard Walter heart
+ hurried confusion of tongues in the hall
: the coachman's deprecatory and soothing
4 ''Nabbit but elect O. a lad, ma'am Nc
8 harm in him. Ill warrant yees.''
4 But the lady's voice was sharp and de
cisive. ''It's a mere feint to enter the
: house." and then followed some whispers
, of plate" and ''unarmed." IL know no
Dunclitfs," she said aloud, looking full at
l Walter. Say to the man that it will be
impossible for me to admit Il stranger dur
ing my husbands absence
But before the old man could reach the
door, Walter was gone. She had seen his
) face plainly and had taken him for bur-
glar. He went over to one of the sheds
and sat down. The cold and hunger mat
tered little. This insult from q woman
filled his heart with Z rage and pain such
as he had never felt before; it was blow
in the face when his own hands were tied.
1t was absolutely the first time in his lite
that an insulting word had been spoken to
him. He laughed after while, trying to
recover his good humor.
IL wonder if that blOckhead Joe feels
like this when he can't give back my
abuse" he muttered.
just then the shanty window opened
again. The woman had overheard all that
had been said at Sutton's.
.'See hyar. old boy" she called.
Walter promptly crossed the road: he
decided to lay aside his dignity till warnl-
er and less hungry time.
''it's plaguey risky thing to take ye,
for thar's nobody here but me and my dar-
ter she said, with her head out of the
window.
Il have every respect for you and your
daughter, madame
well; it's certain you'll freeze if you
stay out thar. I'll venture it," She came
down stairs and opened the door. which
her raw-bOned figure nearly filled. Be- |!
yond he saw fire smoudering on the |
hearth. Jennie's ball. with all its lights, |
and blilliancy and music, was dull beside
the delight of that dirty Kitchens warm
hearth.
Il hain't got another bed,'' she hesitat-
ed. land not much in the way of supper.
neither" setting on the table loaf Of
bread and some cold bacon. '.Lor' sakes
why you're nigh onto starved,'' as she
watched him eat
1.-The disease is soon cured,'' he said,
land if you'll give me bit of blanket or
carpet III dry my clothes and sleep here
on the floor"
"You'rc easy pleased, suspiciously
measuring him with her halfclosed eyes,
and then satisfied that she could easily
''scr,inch him with one hand" she added.
''you're not the sort of build they make
housebreakers of. Them SuttOns is low,
unclristian lot, for all their money"
1T was quite right for the lady to be on
her guard" Walter replied haughtily,
standing by his orders.
oval, there's my old mans breeches.
Jest hang yer own to dry, and wrap yer
self in that rug" She retreated up the
stairs, and it seemed to Walter but mo-
ment before he was stretched before the
blaze, dry, and floating off into dc 'icious
sleep.
No trains stop at the station until to-
night, you say" he demanded, as he rose
from the breakfast table next morning.
mo. You've got to wait. AS for
crossing the hill to Wayne's Station, you
might do it in the summer, but it's i'm
possible now. The express stops there at
noon.'
'.IIow far is it p
''Its impossible, tell you. It's only
eight miles. But the snow is waist deep,
and the road lies along the old track"
The old track was the line of the Penn
sylvania Central Railroad, around hill.
The rails had been removed. but the ties
still remained on the abandoned road.
Walter inspected it, and after a few rods,
found it pleasant walking. He came back
for his valise.
1.-The more fool you. You'll be back in
half an hour
1t was in the day OF gold pieces; he
put couple in her hand. Il cannot pay
you for your kindness, he said, shaking it
kindly.
''All right. We have got to help each
other, but don't take no money. don't
keep no tavern no more'n the Suttons,"
giving him back the money.
Walter laughed, and meeting the little
girl on the road, he put it in her pocket.
The woman called out after him that he'd
be back in half an hour.
The sun was shining through a silvery
gray mist when he started. In an hour
the mist was wet and impenetrable, and as
for tine sun, it was gone. A mountaineer
would have hurried to shelter, but Walter
marched on shouting out the Marsellaise.
Why not9 None of his college books had
taught him the alphabet OF clouds, or fog, /
or winds. The valise grew heavier with
every mile; the snow had drifted literally
waist deep in the deserted track. He de-
ternined to try the hills, and make a short
cut across them. Go back he would not.
"I'll Keep my promise to my MOTHER" he
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