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

before him -"Oh, God, please bring
my father back to me. Oh, please, dear
God. And this l ask for Je us sake.
Amen"
From the doorway at that moment
sounded the deacon's incisive voice:
"Come in to supper, Benjamin.
You'll wear the knees O. your panta-
looms all out, getting down on them
that way. Come right in."-And
at the supper table he eyed Beh's
flushed face. sharply. -'Lemme see,"
he said, taking a meditative sip of
tea; "it's nigh onto ten years since
your father went off, amt tip
eyes, sir," said Ben, family
said the deacon, not altogether un-
kindly, s'tain't good plan for We to
be pleasing yourself with the notion
that he will be back. 1t don't stand
to reason he will. And you're best
shet of him Benjamin-best shet of
him."
Ben did not reply; his heart was full
and there was g. painful lump in his
throat. Just as long as he lived he
would cling to the faith, which had
been his mothers also, that his faith
er was alive and we'll, and would one
day come back to him-a man among
men once more. Every night before
he went to rest he prayed for this, in
his own humble way On this par
ticular night, he crept up to his little
seemed to him he had never prayed
before; and then he went to bed and
coon fell into the deep, healthy slum-
Der which is one of the blessings of
youth. He could not tell how long
he had slept, when he awoke sudden
ly. The room was bright as day, and
there was q. dreadful glare through
the window, which faced the west and
the river. What could it be? Ben
sprang out of bed and to the window
with a fear tugging at his heart. 1t
needed but a single glance to tell him
the truth.
"It's the railroad bridget" he
screamed aloud in his excitement.
'"The railroad bridge is afre!" He
scrambled into his clothes. trembling
with cold and fear, and flung himself
out of his room and down the stairs,
hardly taking q thought as to what he
could do.
The key OF the church hung under
the clock In the sitting-room-for the
deacon held the Office of sexton as well.
He sped along, and when he came to
the church his hand shook so that he
could scarcely unlock the door. The
bell rope hung in the vestibule like
huge, coilirg serpent. The boy seized
it in both his hands and flung his
whole slight weight uponit. Back and
forth he swayed with the swaying of
the rope, clinging like a squirrel to it,
tugging at it in frantic desperation.
His bare hands were cut and blistered,
but he did not mind the pain. 1t
seemed hours to the frightened, pant
ing boy, before the deep toned bell
above answered his summons; but it
came at last, breaking through the
frosty quietude of the night. Clang,
clang! clang! "Fire! fire! fre!" the
deep, rolling tones carried to the sleep
ing village. Clang, clang! Clang,
clang!
In an incredibly short space Of time
the town was astir. Men raced past
the church their voices echoing the cry
of fire, "Fire" Ben slipped out, leav-
ried away to the river with the rest.
There was a great deal of excitement,
of shouting, of running to and fro; but
it was soon quite evident thatnothing
could be done to save the bridge-"It's
bound to co." remarked Capt. Winter,
q stout, jolly-faced man. Hehad been
first on the scene, as he was usually
first wherever quickness of thought
and action was required. "It's just
what know'd would happen when
they built the confounded thing" For
the railroad was q recent institution,
and one that Capt. Thomas Winter
had stoutly opposed from the first.
1t had made Paynville its terminus
but for short time and then stretched
off and away again, leaving the sleepy
little place all the more sleepy by COM
parison with the life that daily
throbbed along it's iron track. Sell
dom now, unless for q passenger, did
the daily train, up or down, stop at
the small, deserted station which was
quite beyond the village itself, and
out of the sight of the bridge.
"Anyhow, it's lucky the fire was dis
covered in season to stop the train"
said the captain, squirting funnily
with the red light of the fire in his
eyes. "Who did it? Who rang the
bell?" No one could tell that, how
ever, unless, indeed, it was the boy
who, altogether unthought of, shrank
bashfully into the friendly shadow of
the little group. The deacon might,
perhaps, have conjectured rightly, but
he had not made his appearance.
"He did q good thing, whoever he
Is, ," pursued Capt. Winter, calmly, and
quite with the air of one who feels that
he has done all that can possibly be re-
quired. 81 have sent my man on
horseback to the bridge at Dominique
at the first alarm. It's eight miles
there, and four more across to the
but he'll make it easy in an
hour and half, and stop the train at
Hooley's. It isn't due here till two
O'Clock, and 'Old Time said mid
night just as John started"
"Old Time" was the town clock, on
whose ancient face quaint represen-
tat1on Of ''Time" with his scytne,
could still be traced. twas Old Time