The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-11-19


long minute Of Mortified silence, when the
staggering form of a man burst through the
nearer line OF smoke, and pair of arms werd
thrown wildly upward, as II their owner min,
gleo word of thanksgiving with his first
gasp OF breathable air. He needed more air
ward
Inc bays were suddenly dashed to a gallon,
lust as Virginia Crawford family muttered
is that Marsh. Oh, mother, is he saYed."
jimmy Keep up! I'll hev him in ten sec
/, The bays were again refined in, quickly, for
Inere was man in the road before them.
Hold the reins, moJheri' shouted old
Sr,aaWford, as he sprang to the ground.
ra Marsh Is 1t yout Are you much burneda
Can you speak!n .
lie might well ask him who he was, under
ne thick busting of SCOT and ashes that COW
cred him from head to foot.
Az that moment there was low cry behind
Oh Craw ord, and the form OF his daughter
darted past him.
Marsh o, Marsh, why won't you speak
Her white hands were on his shoulders, and
Inef streaming eyes were studying his face, but
There was color again in her own, now
/ I'm all right, Virginia, but I'm afraid
Inere's nothing left of your place. took your
mare and the other horses out into the wheat
field She's safe"
" You've been caring for us? Risking your
HE for us! o, Marsh, are you hurtl"
| = Not much, ! reckon. Burned on my hands
a iittle-that all. Have tc get new pair OF
| boots" 80
Yes, and new hat and coat; and his hair,
! beard and eyebrows had sufferd and the Craw-
lords would find only heaps of ashes where
they had left so fair home. But what of all
mat! What was any such loss, compared to
the treasure which had come to Virginia
i through that wall of smoke and fire, or to the
ma hall hn1 lze
his desperate rush for life
tilt Into the buggy, Marsh He won't
the crters!n
"Reclpn they're all right, but didn't get
anythlngout of the house You'd better take
the road 70 mine, at the forks. We put in all
day; yesterday, back-firing"
That 5 what ought to have DONE stead
1 of goin totownu
There w& great deal of silence during the
short resnahder of that drive; but old Craw-
ford FOLLOWED his young neighbour advice, for
the right had road, at the forks, would have
led nm intoa hotter country than his horses
would have ben willing to travel.
Before Iona they could all see the great
blaze which vent up from house and barns
and corn cribs and stacks Of wheat.
The land won't burn, said the brave old
That was good o. you, Marsh l don't owe a
cent, and it won't break me up. Glad your
place isn't hurt; put you had close call Of it
yourself" ..0I
He heard verylong breath drawn at that
moment by somebody upon the back seat Of
the buggy.
At the door of the new house they all got
soberly down, and Mrs Crawford walked
straight to the door and through it, Her hus-
band stayed to care for his over excited team,
but Marshall Hayne and Virginia were just a
little behind her when she reached the thresh-
old.
'Why, dear mel exclaimed the old lady.
cts nigh Almost furnished! It's real com
fortable!n
Perhaps it was mere curiosity that carried
her on SO quickly, then, out of hearing, al
though some experienced women are very
wise
win you go in, Virginia!'
81! Marshr'
with me, mean-Virginia2s
lie passed the threshold as he spoke and
there he stood, holding out both hands, half
welcoming, half pleading.
Forever and ever, Marshr'
II, a few moments later, old Mrs. Crawford
meant any m re than she said, there may have
been some reason for the high color in her
daughters face, for part of the added tint was
dlsky:
Marsh, you'd better git clothes-brush
and some soap and water. | declare Virgin
ny, you Almost look as if you'd been through
IRE yourself"
The further domestic arrangements OF
Marshall Haynes new house were completed
a good while before the " first snow,'' although
! the winter set in early that year.
He did not board with the Bitters family
another day, but it was only week or so after
the fire had done its work that Celebrity re-
marked to Hank Sanders
:" No, sir! I'm gwine to foller jimmy Craw,
ford. Not till you've took some kind of 8
crap off that land o. yours, and put a house
onto it."-W 0. Stoddard, in atlantic Monthly.