Huntsville gazette., 1888-06-02

lie lell asleep ny uoi oiuc.
So quaint and pretty a pair might
have been those two sweet babes left
in the depths Of forest by cruel
uncle, and after wandering, finding a
serene Sleep and leafy shroud brought
by 'the minor poets of the air" the
little woodland birds.
In the afternoon his basket was
empty, but he gathered the dead ripe
raspberries and the shining blackber-
ries under their sheltering vines. They
| passed some COWS that day, mild
solemn creatures. who looked at them
curiously but did not stir, though one
little calf ran in terror, making the
baby laugh merrily. They came to a
deserted log hut that night where the
men in deserted sugar camp had
lived, and here he made the child bed
of fir boughs. They were hungry and
thirsty. The brooks were dry in the
depths of the forest, the only water the
spring away back by the ferns. The
grass was dead and sere, the flowers
wilted and withered. The air was
| close and hot and the boy, whose arms
were weary carrying his little charge,
stood in the open door of the hut look
ing at the velvet blackness of the sky,
where, like diamonds. few stars
peeped out over the tree tops. Sud-
denly along the grass-grown road by
the hut he heard the sound of gallop-
ing hoofs. Then dashing by like a
whirlwind, ran q heard of terrified
cattle. He could hear their hoarse
painting, see their black forms. He
clasped his hands, was it wolves that
frightened them? He listened. Into
the quiet of the night there sounded a
curious swapping and cracking, then a
roar like the breaking of monstrous
wave on rocky shore. Up, far above
tree tops, leaped a great red tongue of
flame, aspiring to the stars.
The forest monarchs writhed and
bowed and flung themselves under the
hot breath, green leaves withered and
| drooped under the fire frost, skeleton
branches waved up and down like the
shriveled arms of beseeching beldames,
the pines shot needles of fire and the
trees blossomed into marvellous flowers
of flame.
The child looked but an instant, then
he ran in, lifted the crying baby on his
back and hurried down the old road.
| A pungent smoke, the breath of the
evergreens, the life of mighty oaks,
filled the air, binding and sitting him.
He tried to run faster, but the child's
weight dragged him back. Fiery Gin
ders flew past him-heralds of the suf-
fering and death so near-blown by
the hot wind that famed his pallid
cheek. All around the flames crept in
narrowing circle. In his awful need
he never thought of deserting the baby
in his care. When the fiery blast came
he took her in his arms and staggered
on. 1t was quite light now, with an
awful vividness.
Hark! Above the roar of the fire
king, the crash of falling trees; the
| cracking of branches and leaves, there
was another sound. The steady thud
of galloping hoofs. Another stampeded
herd of cattle were as frightful as the
fire. The boy listened in piteous fear.
Out of the forest path that met the old
road near big pine, now writhing its
majestic height under the hot blast.
came big white horse and rider
with bowed head buried in his cloak.
Mercifully he heard the cry for help
and drew up his mad steed beneath the
rain of fire falling all about them.
Take her." shouted the boy, 'I kin
run alone all right"
The man did not speak. With a
mighty movement he stopped and
swung the children on the saddle be-
hind him. '.Hold on for your life,"
he shouted hoarsely, and as the mare
leaped the old pine burst into great
tower of flame, like giant octopus
reaching fiery arms after them.
The fire king might fly with mighty
wings, leap in fantastic, swift bounds,
overcoming time and space, but it
could not gain on Joel Waite's white
mare, known all the country round.
On she galloped, straight as die,
strong of sinew, deep of chest, tireless,
enduring, guided by a firm, wise hand.
At last in the crescent of the fire
lay before them a high bank, where,
four feet below, river rippled in
noisy shadows. A silver stream in the
sunlight, but now in the contlagration
q river of blood. The rider flung out
his left arm and held the children
close, and with his right ste aided the
rearing mare. There was one breath
less moment, quick leap, splash in
the cool water, slip on the muddy
bottom, a quick recovery to the shin
ing sand and a steady push ahead. The
steam riffled over their scorched cloth
ing and blistered flesh. Behind them
the trees, giants torches, famed
resinous smoke and lurid light, while
the naked branches of the oaks and
naples flung out great bars, the work
of a frightful caster; the molten metal
| sl Il.