The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1878-10-31

Z
earth. |
Idressed quickly, and joined M'Caus-
land in the little parlor. he was study
ing private copy of the railroad
timetables, which, as an official, ne al |
ways carried.
HWill YOU take the horse and ride
down to Ammering Junction with a
message?"
His collected manner assured me.
Was this alp A ride through the rain
was not much. "Of course, will 60"
He grasped my hand firmly. care
you nervous?" he said, as he held it in
his own steady grasp.
"Nonsense," replied, laughing. an
be ready in five minutes, if it's impsrt-
ant. Is the horse here?"
ran up for my water-proofs. When
came down, the horse was at the door,
and M'Causland inspecting him.
mounted. "Now," / said, "for
this great message, if you please"
M'Causland's tone had something
very solemn in it as he replied:
! ''Tell the station-master at Ammer-
ing Junction. and any people you see,
that the South Reservoir will not last
three hours. 1t will burst down the
valley, and will destroy the Apps Via
duct, and carry away the bridges on the
Holmesdale branch. Stop the t'aNc,
and save the passengers. God bless you!
and, bark We, ride for yosr life. will
fire the signal cannon as warning.
Good-by."
ia VILE RIDE.
Mechanically I gathered up the reins,
nodded to M'Causland, for | was too
stupefied to reply in words, and started
upon my wild ride. Three hours hence
and the water would be pouring down
the valley through which my course
lay. No wonder 1 had to ride for my
klite, and perhaps the lives OF hundreds
of my fellow-creatures depended on
mine. Ammering junction was some
miles away. My route lay through an
unknown country, across moorland in
tersected by flooded streams, and swept
by the fierce wind and rain.
| mist do it, thought, as my horse
picked his cautions way amid the loose
stones down the steep by-road we had
assembled the previous day. l should
need all my strength, though, to exc
cute my task, so pressed on. A valu-
able slice out of nay time had been ex-
pended when l reached the broad
highway and urged my horse to speed.
I had to turn off again, l knew, but l
fancied l should easily find the path.
Besides, was there not a sign-post?
Therefore, urged by dreadful tidings,
by turns and all together assailing me,
urged my horse onward. | reached
the turning, and pulled up to read the
direction should take. l nearly faint
ed with horror as l read. The fatal
finger pointed up the cross-road l was
pursuing" To Holmesdale and Sea-
ham," The opposite index pointed
"To Ruddall and Ammering" l could
scarce credit my senses. Surely | was
right! We had come up the previous
day, and up the hill to the reservoirs. l
had merely to reverse the route we had
travelled. At that moment, if you will
believe me, the true state of the case
and my own stupidity flashed upon me.
We had come from Holmesdale; | was
now bound for Ammering, which lay at
the opposite side.
This was terrible mistake. 1t was
now past six o'clock. One of the three
precious hours had elapsed, and was
further from Ammering than when I
started. l was seized with despair;
what ever could l do now? Two hours
remained, and | had three uphill miles
to ride, and then about seven more
across the moor, before could reach the
junction, and before that the trains
might have started, and then
burst out into cold perspiration at
the thought, and then, desperate and
only half conscious, / rode madly back
to the Ammering Road and up the hill
again. But the storm tiend was abroad,
and had arrayed all his forces against
me.
AS we gained the more open ground,
the blast came down with such violence
as to stagger US. 1t tore across the bill
side, and whizzed and Kissed among the
gorse and swaying grass The rain
came down more determinedly than ever.
At length / reached small cluster of
stone cottages, and halted under the lee
of the last one to take breath for fresh
struggle over the moor, which lay before
me. A straight road lay over ia good
road, but crossed at intervals by rapid
streams which had overhowed their
usual limits, and. swelled over their
boundaries in all the pride of aspate ;,
across the finty stones which had defed
them all the summer long. The sum-
mits of the neighboring hills were shroud-
ed in veil of mist, but far in advance,
on the level, / could trace the railroad
line. From the elevation at which
stood could trace the channel of the
Apps River down the valley, and could
guess the spot at which the flood would