The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1884-10-02
ANDERSON. c. THURSDAY MORNING. OCTOBER O. 1884

supplies, and struggling back to their
waiting horses with their burdens, they
remounted and set out for home, when
the sun had already commenced its de-
cline.
If the mornings Journey had been
slow and painful, much more SO was the
return, for the poor tired animals had the
increased weight of the full sacks to
carry. Sometimes Old Bets strength
seemed utterly to desert her at the foot
of a hill, and she would stop in the full
belief that she could not bulge one inch
further. Then Mrs. s. would call out !:
"Mrs. B., it is nearly dusk. These
woods are full of Yankee raiders, and
we must cross that river before dark"
Then Mrs. B. would pluck up courage.
wipe a furtive tear from her eye and
gently urge Bet little further on. But
this process, often repeated, consumed
much valuable time, and when they at
length reached the river bank night was
upon them. Arrived there, they found
to their dismay that the stream had risen
some inches since morning, it having
rained in the mountain the night before.
If the fording had been difficult when
their horses were comparatively fresh
and the river at its usual height, it would
be sheer madness for Bet to attempt it in
her present exhausted condition. Hold.
ing council of war, Mrs. S. said:
"Now, you know, Mrs. B., I've got
to 20 back to my sick baby to night at
all risks. My horse is stronger than
yours, and both he and 1 can swim if
necessary. You couldn't swim stroke
if your life depended upon it, and
mustn't try to cross. But, I'll tell you
what you can do. Go to Mrs. Harris's
just through the woods, there's near cut
through the fields, and stay there all
night. I will call by and tell the chill
dren not to be uneasy about you."
"But," cried Mrs. B., chow can find
my way to Mrs. Harris's. It's too dark
to see the road"
"There's no road to see. Just cross
the corner of this field and skirt the edge
of the woods for little way, and you
can see the lights from the house just
below the hill"
A LONELY NIGHT IN THE WOODS.
With these directions she was COM
PEELED to content herself, and waiting on
the bank she saw her companion plunge
into the stream. Then she heard the
splash and struggle through the rushing
waters, and, after what seemed an eter'
nifty, heard the faint sound of the horses
boots rs he struck the further shore.
Then feeling of forlornness came over
her such as she had never felt before, as
she turned to seek the house of the
neighbor with whom she purposed spend.
ing che night. She followed the direc-
tions given as we'll as she could, but,
after stumbling along through the dark
ness awhile, and finding no signs of hu-
man habitation near, felt sure she must
have lost her way. Once she heard the
bayiug of dogs, and tried to guide her
self by the sound, but it grew fainter,
and she knew she was going away from
instead Of approaching them. The read.
er must recollect there were no enclosed
fields then; the fences had been long
ago devoured by hundred campfres.
The country was like open prairie, road
ways were abandoned in favor Of "short
cuts" and were overgrown with braubles
and grass, old landmarks had disappeared,
and one might wander without let or
hindrances for miles through the desola'
ted country with but little to guide his
way. Hence it was impossible for Mrs.
B. to guess where she was or what course
10 pursue. By the faint glimmer of the
stars she could see that she was in an old
stump feld-an impossible river on one
side and dismal wood on the other.
In her despair she thought of shouting
aloud for help. Then she remembered
that the camp of the enemy could not
be very far distant, and her dread at be-
ing discovered by some of the rowing
parties of soldiery was greater than her
fear of spending the chilly, lonely night
in this terrible solitude. She continued
to struggle blindly on, till at length old
Bet. who had been giving unmistakable
signs of failing, stopped short with a
groan, trembling in every limb.
Accepting the inevitable with the
calmness of despair, Mrs. B. dismount.
ed, took off the sack and saddle and pre-
Jared to camp for the night. She first
took some meal from the bag and held it
to the horses mouth. 1t was eagerly
devoured, and as much more as she felt
she could spare. Then the night being
g cool one even for autumn, she wrapped
the saddle blanket about her, and so re.
clining on the saddle with her head rest.
ing on her precious stores, she waited
with what patience she might for day.
light and release. The wind sighed
mournfully through the dry rustling
broom sedge where she lay, and the air
seemed full of means and whispers.
Sometimes there came from the, woods
the hoot of an owl, then the cracking Of
a dry branch, sharp and sudden as the
report of pistol, would startle the over
wrought nerves. Many times she fan.
cied she could hear the muffled tread of
horses or stealthy steps of soldiers ap-
preaching, and her blood curdled in her
veins, and she waited with bated breath
and closed eyes, fearing the fate that
might befall her. The halfcharred,
alf.bleached stumps around assumed
uncanny shapes in the dim, weird light.
Sometimes they seemed like crouching
beasts OF prey, ready 10 spring upon nef
sometimes they seemed misshapen human
figures rising from the ground. Then
again she seemed in the midst of an old
neglected burial ground and these were
the grotesque stones that marked the
forgotten graves. Then came to her
membrance all the horrible tales she
had heard when child, stories of ghosts
and demons, of sorcery and crime, told
by the negro nurses as they sat by the
blazing Kitchen fire in the old home.
All the vague superstitions buried with
her childhood returned to haunt her now
with redoubled horrors as she covered
alone in the gloom and silence there.
Then, too, there we're the real, tangible
troubles, the ever recurring thought of
tue children at home, their unprotected
condition, their grief and despair if she
should never live to get back to them.
The only comfort she had through the