Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1888-10-12

rigging of q big ship at see is the
nearest approach to it I know.
Thin, hollow walls of sound grow
and swell and burst into one de-
mOniac howl that embOdies IN its vol
une every conceivable note Of despair
and eternal torture. Then the cres-
cendO dies, sometimes as thOughsud
denly strangled, more often IN long
drawn shrieks that fade upon the ear.
There is music in their cadence at
times; those that L heard were fairly
in tune-but such a tune, such a
drcning, f1endish. Whirling blast of
melody it was. If the neither world
has it's music that music should be
the howl of hungry WOlves-the fran
tic chorus whose culminatiOnis death
to flying singers or fleeing audience
or both.
So much for the wolves 7 know; so
much for the wolves whose hearts
are broken and whose sides have
ached often under the heavy whip Of
their master. So much for tame
wolves who do clumsy tricks and have
learned the beauty Of obedience, for
getting, at the same time, the watch
word of all WOlves-that union Is
strength. Return we to my pack,
which is moving like one big machine,
and the component parts Of which
are together giving tongue.
The snow, for them, is IN perfect
order; but somebody ahead may
perchance find his horses crushing
through the thin frozen surface at
every stride. The darkness suits the
hunters well, but somebody ahead
may be praying for that moonlight
which, at present, only shows silver
fringes on a black cloud. To them
their wolf music is the dinner gong;
but somebody ahead may hear moth
ing more beautiful than his own pas
sing bell in the distant undulatiOns,
rising and falling and coming over
the snow.
Fortunately thought and a pen
travel quicker even than gravWOlves;
therefOre-thOugh not knowing with
certainty whether it can catch US
again before the end of the stOry-We
will leave the racing pack and draw
level with the sledge.
Here it is, sure enough. blowing
through the snow and spinning out
those two parallel lines as it goes.
The stout brown horses are gallOping
steadily, and the solitary man sitting
behind them does not use his whip or
word at present. He must be some
miles nearer home ere the last struggle
begins, and he not only knows the
road well, but can also guess with
tOlerable accuracy at the distance
which still lends enchantment to the
wolf music in the darkness behind
him. Physically ROllO Svantsen is d
typical NOrWe@ian-strOng and in the
prime of life. He has benin passing
peril from the wolves before;
the rug now wrapped about him, ore
corner Of which flaps and rustles in
the snow, is made Of wolf skins. To
night he appears anxious, however;
his horses are powerful but not fleet,
and in his judgement, when the journey
is ended, there viii be very short
quarter of a mile between his sledge
and it's pursurers. AS though to en-
courage him, the moon at last rises
free Of the far-stretching cloud that
till the present has hidden it. A clear
white light floods the darkness and
the snowy plain begins to widen out
upon every side as the driver, rising
in his seat, casts one searching glance
ahead, looks to the fastening
of big leathern bag which
is tied to the floor of the sledge,
and then gazes long and carefully be-
hind him. Yes, there they are, just a
little dark shadow on the waste, q
shadow which one less experienced
might have overlooked altogether,
but a shadow that is moving hardly
less quickly than those cast by the
rack of broken clouds drifting across
the moon.
What Svantsen had seen in front
Of him was a black line on the hOri-
zOn and a tall finger post, still far
ahead, where two roads met. What
he had not seen was a figure on foot,
travelling toward the same black line
upon the horizon.
The pedestrian is moving but slow
~, and has very little more running
left in him. The snow retards every
step and clogs in Jumps upon the
heels of his boots There is no track
to go by, but he keeps as straight
as he can for the tall finger post. To
reach the black line before those fly
ing feet in the rear have closed with
him is, ne knows, impossible; and yet
he staggers forward. He cannot
help himself The instinct of self
preservation would make him strug-
gle on even though safety were a
hundred miles distant in stead of
scarce five. And on he viii drag his
tired body till he drops or till the
wolves pull him down.
Then cOmes-think of 1.-THE sound
ofrledge bells in his ears, the only
earthly melody he knows that, in his
present sore straight, can mean sue
cor and salvation. He heeds it not
at first. The NOrwegians are a su-