Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1884-11-29

known Dark.
The heavy thud of a ponderous
beam upon the door of the Jail
The guards within, start to their feet.
The prisoners grasp each other In a
hush of expectation into which
creeps the hope of deliYerauce.
| Again and again the dull snund
| mingleS with the ever increasing
roar OF the wind and the dash of the
rain. There Is the crash of splinter
ing wood and rush like that Of
doom, silent and mighty, up che
narrow stairway, with the white
| stricken guards driven on before.
Deliverance? Deliyerance The
solid key groans in the lock, the
smocky lamp throws 4 CHASTITY glare
into the cold cell.
And presently emerges into the
| freezing night air a long, double
file of men whose faces are hidden,
but whose clenched hands show too
well lack of mercy; and In the
| midst thereof walk two bare-foOted,
half-naked, shivering creatures with
the ropes already knotted about
their ntcks.
And so silently hurries this ghost
ly procession up the wind-swept
hill and across the barren heath,
that. not even the watch-dogs are
aroused from their slumbers. One
old hunter, indeed, lifts his. head
from his pillow with the instinct OF
danger upon him; rises upon ms
elbow and listens To the sighing OF
the wind, while the glow Of the
dying fire reddens the barrel OF the
| rifle swung above his door, laughs
cOntentedly rs he hears nothing
else, and drops back into dream
land. :.
Behind, the Jail doors are left
wide open, but the other prisoners,
frozen with borrow, cover back into
their cells and pray.
And out yonder the work Is tin-
ished, finished remorselessly and In
silence. One of the victims indeed
begs for the life of his younger
i brother, and the other prayS that ne
NAV ne shot. But that is all. But
white and cold already, before
death has had time to freeze the
blood in their veins, they are len
swinging to and fro in the frantic
|
phantoms of the night mount their
horses and ride swiftly back INTO
the unknown dark from whence
they came.
The little town sleeps peaceful lily
on, and midnight has not yet SCUM
ded.
1t is still, the Lords Day.
And that old murder has oeen
avenged"
Ah, but over yonder, more thar
so miles away, that Sunday mora
ing. a slender little woman hat
climbed into an old, rickety, 0per
, buggy. | have told you that
never saw her face. but l make ne
, doubt that at that moment her fac'
beneath the faded sunbonnet Wa'
|. beautiful; a lovely light, as OF tn
first youth and first love, played
over the pallor of her cheeks; he
: sunken eyes shonc, and bonn.
, smile parted her lips as she Leaned
forward and gathered up the rein
and started the slow-rnOVlng hofs
, on the long and wearisome journey
. For "the boys" bond hat been sign
ed. Tomorrow they would be Sc
free-for a time at least-and res
! pite meant everything. No nee'
!, now to lock beyond the Overwhelm
ing g.adness of the one though
I. that tomorrow they-he-wOuld D
free, and she would be there to re
ceiye them once more into light an
! air and life!
Fifty miles, why, that is nothing
Across long and lonely reaches
. "rouph.n where the old horse plcw
his way painfully through heav,
| sand Stumbling every now an,
7 then upon the shin oak roots ina
|. twist their loose. ugly knots owe
the road through bits Of brown
!, dreary prairie, where the uncertai
: wheels creak over great clodS {
black earth, Jumped by the col
= into sharp masses rs hard as roch
y down into ravineS deep -washed-0u'
:, where the shadows lie heavily an
where wild things, with eyes tha
: shine, creep stealthIly from crevlC
= to crevice over soggy b0ttomland
y strewn with wrecks Of Overloade
: freighters, where the crows cav o
Z the big cOttonwOods and discus
!, angrily the pale passer-by.
= Fifty-miles, why, that is nothing
1t is cold and the wind stings he
, face like so many needles her bar
;, hands are blue aud stiff and ne
!, feet are numb. But do you thin
= /! she feels on her forehead the froze
y air which presently meits into
hIinding rain, as she sits far TO
4 \ IL
h horse along.
A mule-rabbit, with long, pointe
/ ears and glittering coat OF IA
:, gathers himself up at the side OF n
road prepared to speed away, bt
aware of her unseeing eye, setti'
himself comfortably in his bed
!. dried grass and staFes out at her
:. couple of deer, tawny and sleel
, living in the shelter of a hollow, II
y their heads and drop them again
!. she goes by. The few hOrsenen ST
|, meets pass her without the custom
:; arv salutatiOn, aWetl into silence D
:. the renoteness of her gaze; "
:, turn to look afterward, renembe
e inp the Joyous smile upon her lip
- And night falls, and those avn
Phanto,ns are somewhere veifir
their faces
The next day is we'll worn wht
=, she crosses the low fiat and ascen'
- the hill AT the foot Of which nes'l
le the town. 1t is cold, but the clou'
. have broken and sudden Hood
- LIGHT bathes the valley and turi
iS the windows to cOppery gold.
~ bird somewhere In the distance,
le fhe iaded old horse breaks into
No stumbling trot, throws out upon u
9e frosty air succession OF Joyo
III notes that are caught up and a
49, swered by another still further o
eI She pushes back her bonnet al
y, draws long, restful breath a
sc there is the big stone school nou
p. and the snug little cottages on eth
- side Of the street and there Is I
~ low log-house so full last SUNNI
n a. of merry laughter and music al
~ light and-why, what croV
- about the Jail door; Oh, yes, tn
~ =, why, of course, and how Kin
=. ~ ONLY she Ionged to be the flrst
od meet him.
eu The old horse slackens his pa
and creeps on; she leans out eager
letting the lines fall, and claspl
on her hands, while the color con
ev and goes on her pale cheeks. 5
ses does not see them But then !
~ ayes ere dimmed no doubt