Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1880-10-06
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The shower was ended. A brisk west
erly breeze was rapidly tearing away the
gray thunder-clouds from the face of the
June sky, and the sun shone down with
renewed feryor.
GAS hot as twas before the rain - ex-
claimed Mrs. Curtis, as she opened her
parasol and leisurely stepped from the
Haywood drygoods store in which she
had, half an hour before, taken shelter
from the storm.
eyes, it is ma'am," said Mr.. Brown,
she had bought from him, and he added:
"Youn have hot walk under the
brilin' hot sun. Better run into our
house an stay to tea. You hain't seen
the twins yet. Smartest little critters
ever was. Mrs. Browns gettin' on fine
~ and will be glad to see you
''Thanks; I'd like to, but I must
hurry home and can my currants. Be
sides, I wouldn't undertake that long
walk through the pine wood after dark
for anything III the world. It's gloomy
enough III the daytime Give my re-
spects to your wife; tell her I'll drop in
soor and see her and the babies Good
day."
'Good-day," said Brown, and he
added, as he saw Mrs. Curtis hurrying
down the street, "Queer critter p
Yes, by all the inhabitants of Hay
wood, Mrs. Curtis, was called peculiar
She was upwards of fifty years, tall and
erect, with iron-grey hair, rudy cheeks
and keen, dark eyes. And decidedly she
was a person that minded her own bust
ness. She had lived in Haywood over
five years, yet in all that time not sin
gle person had been able to CLEAN any
information concerning her past life.
All that could be ascertained was that
she was a widow, chlldless, and with
little property, consisting of comforta-
BILE cottage, surrounded by few acres
of land, and with a few hundred dollars
in the Haywood bank.
Meanwhile Mr. Brown returned to his
counter to wait on customer, and Mrs.
Curtis pursued her Journey homeward.
For some distance her road lay along the
dusty highway, then she turned into
little footpath through the daisy-dotted
meadow, then across the creek bridge,
until suddenly she came to the dense
pine woods whose shade was very pleas
ing to her.
When about halfway through the
woods she came to a small patch of late
strawberries. She stopped to pick them
Her brown, Woodworking hands were
nearly full of the luscious red berries,
when rustling and a footstep startled
her She looked up In an instant an
ron-like hand was clutching her throat,
and only the frightened wildwood birds
could tell the rest!
About two miles from the village of
Haywood, and on the banks of Briar
Greek dwelt Peter Groat. He was a
German, who, with his family, had late
~ come to America, and in the previous
autumn had bought few acres of land
bordering the creek. Here he had erect
ed small but comfortable house, and
was, to all appearances, an honest, hard
working man. The only thing that could
be said against him by few grumblers
was that he was too "close," clinging
tightly to his hard-earned pennies, and
ever on the lookout for more. But this
was certainly excusable when it was
known that he had mortgage on his
farm, which together with the wants of
a rapidly increasing family, was enough
to make any man greedy of gain.
1t was the evening of the day ON which
our story began. Peter, surrounded by
his wife and children, sat placidly smok-
ing his pipe on the little grass plot in
front of the house.
The supper had been eaten, the COWS
MIXED, the pigs fed, the chickens housed
from thieyish rats, and all the family,
young and old, felt entitled to a season
of rest. Hans and Fritz were turning
somersaults on the soft grass; Gretchen,
the haxen-haired lassie, was feeding a
pet robin; Franz the six months baby,
was cuddled up to his mothers breast,
contentedly smacking his lips over his
evening meal.
The sun went down; the shadows
deepened The clock In the distant vii
lage struck the hour of eight. Peter
Groat rose, shook the ashes from his
pipe, and said:
"Come, kinder, it is late. The dew is
falling, and lets to bed %
"Vater! vater!" suddenly cried Hans
and Fritz, running up from the gate,
"therc IS a man coming In our yard-a
stranger"
Peter slowly sauntered down to meet
the new conner.
He was an elderly man, with tanned
and rugged face, sandy hair sprinkled
with gray, and dark, deep set eyes,
somewhat infamed His clothes were