The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1880-01-08

knew that upon her GOODNESS and resolu-
ton alone depended the life of her IA
ther.
It was, perhaps. well for the accomp-
lishment of her purpose, that, for some
time after setting out on her perious
journey, Lily Servosse had enough to do
to maintain her seat, and guide and con-
troll her horse.
She had always made it rule to visit
his stall every day; SO that, although
she had never ridden him, the horse was
familiar with her person and voice. 1t
was we'll for her that this was the case;
for, as he dashed away with the speed of
the wind, she felt how powerles5 she
was to restrain him by means of the bit.
Nor did she attempt it. Merely feeling
his mouth, and keeping her eye upon
the road before him, in order that no
sudden start TO right or left should take
her By surprise, she cody kept her seat,
and tried to soothe him by her voice.
With head outstretched, and sinewy
neck strained to the uttermost, he flew
over the ground in a wild, mad race with
the evening wind as it seemed.
The night was growing chilly by this
time. As the wind struck her at the
hilltop, she remembered that she had
thrown hooded water proof about her
before starting. She stopped her horse,
and taking off her hat, gathered her long
hair into q mass, and thrust it into the
hood, which she drew over her head and
pressed her hat down on it; then she
gathered the reins and they went on in
that long, steady stride which marks the
high bred horse when he gets thoroughly
down to his work.
Once or twice she drew rein to deter
mine which road to talk. Sometimes her
way lay through the forest, and she was
startled by the cry of the owl; anon it
was through the reedy bottom land, and
the half wild hogs, starting from their
lairs gave her an instant's fright. The
moon cast strange shadows around her;
but still she pushed on, with this one
only thought in her mind, that her faith
er's life was at stake, and she alone could
save him. She had written to her moth
er to go back to Verdenton, and tele-
graph to her father; but she put no hope
in that. How she trembIed, as she pass
ed each fork in the rough and Unmarked
country road, lest she should take the
right hand when she ought to turn to
the left, and SO lose precious, priceless
moments How her heart beat with joy
when she caInc upon any remembered
landmark ! And all the time her mind
was full of tumultuous prayer. Some
times it bubbled over her lips in tender,
disjointed accents.
"Father Papa, dear, dear papa ~
she cried to the bright still night that
lay around; and then the tears burst over
the quivering lids and ran down the fair
cheeks in torrents. She pressed hand to
her heart as she fancied that a CLEAN of
redder light shot athwart the northern
sky and she thought of terrible bonfire
that would rage and glow above the
horizon if she failed to bring timely
warning of the danger. How her heart
throbbed with thankfulness as she gal.
loped through an avenue of giant oaks at
a crossroads where she remembered
stopping with her father one day He
had told her that it was half way from
Glenville to Warrington. He had wat
cred their horses there; and she remem-
bered every word of pleasant badinage
he had addressed to her as they rode
home. Had one ever before so dear, so
tender a parent2 The tears came again;
but she drove them back with half-in-
voluntary laugh. "Not now, not now |"
she said. s'No, nor at all. They shall
not come at all; for will save him. o
God, help.mel I am but a weak girl.
Why did the letter come so late2 But
will save him Help me heaven guide
and help!'
She glanced at her watch as she passed
from under the shade of the oaks, and as
she held the dial up to the moonlight,
gave a scream of Joy. It was just past
the stroke of 9. She had still an hour,
| and half the distance had been accomp-
| lished in half that time.
Still on and on the brave horse bore
her with untiring limb. Half the re-
naming distance is now consumed, and
| she comes to a place where the road
forks, not once, but into four branches.
1t is in the midst of a level old field COW
| cred with thick growth of scrubby
pines. Through the masses of thick
green are white lanes which stretch away
in every direction, with no visible diff
| ference save in the density or frequency
| of the shadows which fall across them.
| She tries to think which of the many in-
tesecting paths lead to her destination.
She tries this and then that for a few
steps, consults the stars to determine in
what direction Glenville lies, and has
almost decided upon the first to right,
when she hears a sound which turns her
blood to ice in her veins.
\ shrill whistle sounds to the left
once, twice, thrice-and then it is an
swered from the road in front. There
| are two others q God If sba I'm;
knew which road to take She knows
very wall the meaning of those signals.
She has heard them before. The masked
cavaliers are closing in upon her; and, as
if frozen to stone, she sits upon hel
horse in the clear moonlight. and cannot
choose.
She is not thinking OF herself. It is
not for herself that she fears; but there
has come over her q horrible, numbinc
| sensation that she Is lost for she does