Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1886-05-26

Did they understand They stood
with blanching faces and hard drawn
breaths gazing dumbly into each 9th
er's eyes-those strong men, SO help
less now in their strength! The little
horror-stricken group was momently
augmented by fresh arrivals, and there
WIS no one among them all but took
in at once the whole dreadful truth
Beyond the ruined bridge the track
was in view but for little distance: it
made Il sharp curve to the left, then,
and lay for two miles through O.
swampy forest. And so surely as the
train rounded the curve at full speed,
so surely it must be hurled vii h it's liv-
ing freight into the cold, black waters
of the river.
81 tell you, Judge Stanhope and his
wife, and his daughter are expected
home to night on that miserable one
horse train!" cried Capt. Winter, with
great energy. "I'll give anybody $500
to cross the river! Pdgo myself, but :"
with contemptuous glance down at
his own rotund person, 81 couldn't
get yard out. Do something, for
Gods sake! | believe in my heart
you're all towards "-"Take that
back, Capt. Winter" uttered a voice
that was husky and shaking. "We're
no towards. You know yourself that
the ice won't bear half the weight of a
man. It only begun to freeze night
afore this"
| The captain groaned aloud. Judge
Stanhope's wife WAS his own sister.
-"Try itP' he cried hoarsely. "Pll
give you every cent Pm worth just to
make the attemptl We can't stand
here like pack Of idiots, and watch
them come on to death!"
Well, cannot describe to you the
terrible excitement of that time.
Men ran here and there as if complete
ly bereft of sense, each with some sep.
arate, impracticable project, and hur-
ried off for ropes and rails and boards
and boats-old leaky bateaux that
had long since out-lived their useful
ness. And in the'midst of it all, q fig
ure appeared at the rivers edge at
some distance below the burning
bridge-a thin, boyish figure, with a
face all flushed with haste, and blue
eyes that were dark and wide with fear.
1t was poor little Ben Ballard. The
good old captains revelation concern
ing Judge Stanhope and his family had
given shape to the vague, wild idea
that had ali the time been floating in
the boys brain. Pretty, gentle, Ida
Stanhope was his teacher in Sabbath
school. She had always been tenderly
kind to the worse than orphaned boy.
Ben loved her for it, and would die to
save her.
That was what he said to himself as
he sped, painting, UP to the place
called home, and back again to the
scene of disaster, with pair of
wretchedly old skates in one hand,
and the deacon's lantern, which he
had actually snatched from the grasp
of the astonlshed owner, in the other.
Capt. Winter was the first to espy him,
and he straightway FASTENED down the
low, steep bank. Ben had the dilapidat-
ed skates already on his feet, tied as
securely as might be with bits of rope
yarn, and be rose as the captain came
half sliding down to where he stood.
Capt. Winter laid g. hand on his
shoulder. "Ben-is it the deacon's
boy?" he said, huskily. "Child, you
can't cross the river !"--"Oh, let me
try" cried Ben. His nerves were
strung to the highest pitch, his heart
seemed all on fire. 81 can skate, and
I'm little and awful light; and-and if
| don't get over, sir, it's no loss. .
"But my boy"
Hark! Was not that a distant,
thunderous rumble? A horrible
groan sounded from the bank above,
where Deacon Wilson had at that mo-
ment arrived, red with unwonted ex-
ercise, and wrathful at the loss of his
lantern. His vexation vanished sud-
denly, however. He reverently barred
his head, and fell upon his knees.
"Let US pray" he uttered, chokingly.
And there are those who declare that
never before Or after, in church Or
private assembly, was Deacon Wilson
heard to pray as he prayed that
night.
In truth, it was an extremely peril
Gus, though short journey, that Ben
was undertaking. 1t was only his
light weight and swift movements
that gave him safety. The ice bent
fearfully beneath his quiet, steady
strokes, and once Of twice he cut
through to the water. A puff OF wind
caught his hat from his head, but he
dared not stop to recover it; and even
in his exciteme ut, he wondered, with g.
little feeling of dread, what Deacon
Wilson would say to the loss. Nearly
over, one of the skates loosened sud-
denly, and he stumbled and the thin
ice broke beneath him. But the wa
ter was scarcely waist-deep there, and
his footing sure; and so he struggled
bravely out and gained the bank,
holding his lantern above his head all
the while. A wild, hoarse shout
reached his ears from the shore he
had left. He pulled his worn boots
from his feet-it was the quickest and
easiest method of taking off his skates
and then he sped away up the
track.
The night was bitterly chill, and his
clothes were freezing around him, but
he did not feel the cold. On, on he
went, flying from sleeper to sleeper like
small terrified Mercury, hearing each
instant the rumble of coming train
growing more distinct. On, till the
curve was reached and passed; on, till