The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1882-07-26

! nal1 In expectation OF hight, half from
real regret as they looked at the sob.
bing child.
81 suppose" said Craigie, in his
strong, harsh tones, now full of sup
pressed passion, " L suppose ye think it
fune to laugh at a mitherless baby at
niver harmed ye'- turning to go-"ye
nah think it fune moo, an yemah think
different sumo day, when yer ain BARNS
are mitherless."
The men parted right and left with
out word, leaving lane to the door.
When it closed behind him two or
three, who had laughed among the
loudest, looked after him and
remembered afterward how as he
turned the corner and dis
appeared in the drizzling rain, Jenny,
whom he still held, suddenly put an
arm around his neck as if to steady
herself.
All the merriment was over. Jansen
made an uneasy attempt at joke, as he
folded the monkey pattern; but no one
laughed. The common feeling was ex-
pressed when Jim Barker blew from his
mouth quid with some violence and
said
"I'm burned if ever 1 laughs at them
two again r.
All no no one would laugh at them
again !
"Dinna mind it, jimmy" said her
| father, as the two neared home.
No, father,n answered Jenny ). yet
her lips quivered as she said it.
Meantime the rain grew heavier,
| nd D.
time they reached the bridge
they were drenched. The swollen
river was roaring below, beating against
the stone piers with a deep, angry
growl.
Donald Craigie examined the tim
bers closely, almost inch by inch; and
it was with troubled face that he said
to Jenny, on entering the house:
| "Pm thinkin' there'ull be trouble,
my BARN, if the water gaes on risin'."
Indeed, his anxiety was so great that
Jenny quite forgot her recent grief, and
the two ate their evening meal in
silence. 1t was five in the afternoon
when they reached home; in half an
hour the east-bound freight-train passed,
at o'clock the express, and after each
one Craigie made careful and minute
| inspection of the bridge
There was to be another train at s
o'clock, then no more till midnight.
Jenny, tired out, fell asleep at last
by the fire. Her father put her on the
bed without undressing her, and settled
himself for short nap in his chair.
But he could not sleep. The noise of
the storm grew louder, the cry of the
river sharper, and an anxiety possessed
him that he could il no way control.
,s,,Twice, lantern in hand, he went out,
crossing and recrossing the long, gloomy
bridge. All was safe, however, and he
called himself fool for his pains. Still
he could not rest and at quarter OF
8 o'clock he started for third trip.
Some noise he made woke Jenny, and
she asked if the train was gone. mot
yet, my BARN; but I'm gaein' oot to see
| that as safe"
So saying he bent over Jenny and
kissed her. "How wad ye like it,
jimmy" said he, to gae where there'd
be nRe trains by night, an nae brig wi
the water swirlin' ?"
"Why, faither!" said Jenny, with
wide.open eyes, "wad ye like it,
yerser?"
"rm nae sayin' that, he answered,
"but we'll think of it, we'll think of it,
we'll think of it, my BARN" And with
a final kiss he went out into the storm.
Jennie, hattening her face against
the window, watched the lantern bob
bing in and out, till it disappeared. BY
this she knew he had entered the
bridge.
Half a minute perhaps slipped by
when all at once her heart gave a bound,
then seemed actually to stand still, for
above the noise of the storm a dull,
grinding roar met her ear, then thud,
then the rush OF the storm once more.
| 1t took but few minutes for her to
reach the bridge and call 4" Father r.
forgetting that even if all were well he
could not possibly hear her in that ele-
mental din.
No voice, no light, came through the
rain to meet her, and hope died in her
heart; she knew she should see him no
more. But-the train At that mo-
ment her scared senses came back to
her. There was no time to cry. She
must take her fathers place as far as
possible and try to stop the train.
She hurried back to the house, and
with grave, unchildish forethought,
took off her shoes for fear of slipping
on the wet timbers, tied shawl firmly
around her, and lighting another lam
tern started again for the bridge.
Once within it she advanced eau
tiously, throwing the light of the Ian
tern before each step. 1t was only too
easy now to see what had happened.
The middle pier had given way, carry
ing with it in its fall both beams and
planking. Between the two halves of
the bridge there now yawned a black
gulf, but feebly spanned by ragged,
shivering timber, whose length had
secured it a momentary hold. The
whole structure indeed was trembling,
and the other piers might any moment