The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1878-09-19

child to be burned like rats in barn ?"
"Don't you see we must get by that
tree before it falls across the track ?"
cried McOhing in a rage.
"I know" replied Ward, sternly;
"but they shall go with us, or we'll all
perish together. Quick, quick, my wo.
man we've no time to lose |"
He dared not leave the front of the
train to help her, for he knew the other
men, in their fright, would raise the
brakes and desert them.
She struggled forward, but when
almost up to the cars, she stumbled and
fell. With bound, Ward sprang to
| her side, lifted her, and handed her to
Josh McChing, who stood in the rear
car. He then caught up the child, and
turned to spring in, but the train was
already moving, Josh, made utterly SELF
ish by his fear, had raised the brakes.
Ward ran with the energy of despera-
tion, threw the child into Dams out
stretched arms, and then caught the last
car, where he clung, unable at the speed
they were moving, with his utmost
strength, to do more than keep his hold.
In few moments they left the green
woods, and passing through the blaz-
| ing brush on either side, were almost
| blinded and suffocated with the smoke
and heat, while burning twigs and bush
es fell like red-hot shower upon them.
Ward felt his hands blistering, yet
he held fast, and looked up to see if the
pine-tree was slill standing. As they
passed under it, the flames had caught
| in the long branches, and it stood
pyramid of fire. On the cars sped.
Another curve was passed, and they
were again in the midst of a dense green
wood.
Dan McChiug shouted to his brother
to put down the brakes, and succeeded
in making him stop the train. The two
men then got out, and ran back to pick
up Ward, who had dropped exhausted
before the motion entirely ceased.
They placed him in the cars, and then
allowed the train to run some distance
further, till they felt sure that the dan
ger was past. Coming to little stream
of water near the track, they again STOP
ped the train, and gathered round the
spring, to wash their burns and rest
little.
Here Ward recognized the poor wo-
man he had saved as Mrs. Stacey, the
wife of wood-chopper, who was en-
ployed to supply fuel for the engine
house they had just passed. Her little
shanty was right in the path of the
fire. She saw the fire coming, and had
time only to catch her boy and escape
to the woods, where these men had
picked ker up. She had lost everything,
and feared that her husband had per-
ished in the flames. He had gone off
with his axe in the morning, which way
she could not tell.
Ward was filled with anxiety about
the woman and her child. He knew
that his two companions would do moth
Ing for her, end he must offer her
shelter in his own homo. But he had
six children and an aged mother to sup
port, and his wife was not one who bore
her burdens lightly.
But the kind-hearted man invited
Mrs. Stacey to accompany him home,
and lifting the boy in his arms when
they left the cars, he strobe on ahead to
show her the narrow path.
They passed several houses, and ap.
preached a pretty white cottage. With
a thrill of Joy, Ward listened to the
merry voices of his children.
In moment more he opened the door
on a bright family picture. The table
was spread and his children were gath
cred round it, except the little twins,
who were already in their cribs, while in
the midst of them sat the old grand
mother, smiling placidly at sbeir lively
chatter.
Ward gave Mrs. Stacey seat, and
placed the boy on her lap; then, after
introducing her to his mother, he asked
anxiously for his wife.
She was in the kitchen, looking tired
and worried. He saw this, as he began
in low tone to explain to her who their
visitor was. and her claims upon their
hospitality.
But in a loud angry voice she inter-
rupted him, saying, "Now, John, that's
just like you taking the food and cloth
ing from your own family to give to beg
gars. Here I am slavin' and worryin'
from mornin' to night to take care of
these children and your old mother, vet
you bring two more you've picked up,
and expect me to feed and provide for
them"
"But, wife, I couldn't leave the poor
woman to perish in the flames, or re-
main homeless and supperless this chilly
night"
Mrs. Ward was not a heartless wo.
man. She was thrifty, and anxious to
get ahead, and had much to try her. 1t
distressed her to find that manage as
economically as she could, she could
hardly keep John out of debt. Just
then she laid it all to her husbands
charity to others. Therefore, seeing
only her side of the argument, she said:
"Why must you always be saddled
with such people? They see you are
easily imposed upon, and SO we have to
bear the consequences.
Mrs. Stacey could not help hearing
this conversation. Putting down her
child, she walked to the kitchen door,
and opening it, said, in faltering tone:
"Mrs. Ward, I'm no beggar. This
morning was in my own home. This
afternoon the fire came, and l had to
flee before it. My house and everything
in it were burned to ashes. Mr.. Ward
saved my life and my boys at a risk I |
don't dare think of. May the Lord re. |
ward him for his kindness! He asked |
me to his house to pass the night; but |
I'll not stay where I'm not wanted, nor
be the cause of strife. May the devour-
ing flames never leave you as homeless
and friendless as they have left me-"
These words touched Mrs. Ward. As
Mrs. Stacey turned away, she sprang
towards her, and said, earnestly:
"Oh, forgive me! I did not think
what Won had endured You sbo1l oton