The Northern Pacific farmer., 1880-07-08

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for some purpose and left in that posi-.
ton. In endeavoring to pass it, I struck
my foot against it, stumbled, and, in re-
covering myself, forced one leg through
the aperture, and, striking my other
foot with all the force required to re-
gain my equilibrium, replaced the
| plank in such manner as not only left
my foot protruding through the narrow
crack, but threw me on the line, and
promised to present Il difficulty in re-
moving the plank.
I smiled to think how curiously had
been entrapped, and stopped down to
remove the plank and free myself from
so dangerous a position. The task was
not so easily performed as I had mag
ined The plank was wedged in, in
such a manner, that no effort of mine
could remove it. [ strove with nv ut
most power, but it was in vain; nor
could I extricate my foot, which was
lacerated and smarting with pain in its
close confinement.
At first I did not consider the extent
of my peril, but I soon began.to per-
ceive the danger of my situation; and I
shuddered with horror to think that I
should be obliged to remain there and
pe crushed to death by the next train!
1t was cold day in December, and yet
the beaded drops burst from every pore.
A MON ent Of frenzied delirium succeed
ed, and when I rallied again I found
myself lying on the rail, my foot still a
prisoner, and no prospect of delivery.
[ looked at my watch; it was halfpast
three: The express would 60 up at half
past five; and at half-past four it would
be dark.
1t was possible, nay probable. that
some one would pass by before it should
be too late: This way was nearer to
the town than by the bridge I have
mentioned, though always regarded as
more dangerous on account of its mar
rowness, from which there would be no
possibility Of escape in case a train
should come in sight while passing over
it. Already one person had been killed
by endeavoring to cross at a time when
the train was due; and should I be the
second to perish there? How the
thought tortured me, and once again I
tugged at the resisting plank. With all
my strength I tried to withdraw my
foot and leave the boot; but impossible!
1t was 4 o'clock-in half an hour it
would be dark another hour, and death
would be certain. l shouted for aid,
but no habitation was within half
mile, and no answer was returned to
nay cries. Again and again I shrieked,
while the despairing echoes reverberat-
ed through the distant wood, as though
they would mock me in my misery,
and then, with all the accumulated
strength of madness, I wrenched the
plank but could not move it from its
place. Surely it could not be possible
that should be obliged to sit there
and be crushed to death, when human
aid was SO near. Had I-been in some
isolated forest, some depth of country,
distant from town or cottage, my doom
might have been more certain. Once
again [ shrieked with agonizing fury;
wildly, desperately, the sound of my
voice rang out on the chilling air; while
nothing but the mocking echoes made
reply.
The sun had set, and the darkness
was gathering fast over the valley be-
low. Already the last reddening glow
of sunshine was cleaning on the tops
of the forest trees. My irrevocable des-
tiny became every moment more and
more apparent.
Hark! 1t is the train No, no! I
stretched forward and listened with
breathless eagerness. There was not
sound to break the silence; I must have
h0o1, Ioao1xyoI P,,4 lett
voice! Thank Heaven!
'sHelp! help! help!' I cried, and each
time | shouted the words I seemed, in
despair, nerved up to greater power of
speech, and called louder and louder
each time. Did he hear me? There
was no answer-all was still. Oh, mer-
ciful heaven! was this last chance for
life denied me?
"Hall-oo!" shouted some one.
The voice was distant, but, oh, how
my blood leaped with joy at the sound!
Again 1 called with all the strength of
my lungs, and again I was answered.
In a little while figure appeared ad-
vancing toward me, but it was growing
already SO dark I could not recognize
him, nor did care to do 50; but when
he came close to me, ,one glance showed
me it was Arthur Wesley.
Should 1 let him pass by, or ask him
to assist me? Would he do so? AS he
he asked:
lis that you, Mr.. Worthington? Bless
me, are you hurt"
"No thank you, not much hurt" I
replied; "but see, I am so nicely trap
ped here that I could not free myself
alone, and I think it is nearly time for
the express train to be due.''
1t was growing dark very fast; so
dark, indeed, was it that found it inn
possible to discover what time it was by
my watch. He never hesitated a mo-
ment but seized tho dotoatod D1oDl-