Thomas County cat. [volume] (Colby, Kan.) 1885-1891, 1889-08-08

others helped untangle the pony and
proceeded to repair a slight break I'M
the traces. -
Imagine the contrast! Mr.. Jonas
in snowy white flannel trousers, a blue
silk shirt with cravat and waist-scarf
of blue and white, sparkling
blazer and immaculate straw hat; and
by his side, wrecked. dilapidated Poo
lado. with his coat split down the
back and the opening nicely plastered
up with rich brown mud. both sleeves
torn open from shoulder to elbow,
his hands in the same condition as his
face-nOt exactly spattered with mud.
but bearing a solid coating of dust,
dirt and clay about two inches thick.
which tended to injure the expression
of his clear-cut features. At the first
glance one might have thought there
were only thirteen holes in his trou-
sers; but on careful examination TWEEN
ty-one rents, more or less con cealed
with clay, could be discerned.
As for me, there was one pound of
mud to every hair on my hide.
Rosalee gave one glance at us as we
:ottered up the steps-just one little
bashful look and then flew into the
house.
/ don't say she laughed simply
saw her examining her handkerchief.
her lace fan and some embroidery into
her mouth as she rushed for the door;
and when she was within the widest
peals of uncomfortable laughter shook
the walls. But l trust Miss Rosalee
was too polite to allow herself to be
excited to merriment at our eccentric
though the rest of the
party on the veranda were not so
punctilious; and it was with quiet sat-
isfaction that | saw one man dragged
away in a fit.
For the next few days We kept our
selves in close retirement, as we were
wearing several marks and bruises
which only time and arnica could eff
face.
We resolved on our next appearance
to avoid both canoes and broncos, So
ourselves in our tartest raj
ment. and assuming our imported
bored look. we sauntered to the picnic
grounds by the river bank. where Miss
Rosalee and her party were assembled.
In consequence of the two disastrous
incidents we had experienced in trying
to make an impression on Miss Rosa
lee. this our third attempt made us
feel decidedly nervous. All the con-
ventional picnic accidents rose up be-
fore us like ghosts.
On approaching we saw that the
widest confusion and excitement
seemed to prevail; then out from the
crowd walked the III. r." Mr.. Junius
Brutus Jonas. Yes. there was no mis-
take. though his appearance was I'M
usual.
His elastic step, his nOnchalant air,
his patronizing smile and his spotless
garb were not with him. At every !
move water spouted from his shoes,
spurted from every seam and ran in |
torrents from the edges of his clothes.
Yes. as the intelligent reader has
already surmised, Mr.. Jonas was wet! |
For once he had reached our level. l |
don't hesitate to say we smiled-in
fact, my amusement was too large for |
nv collar and l came lear having |
a fit.
We suddenly observed that our in
nocent merriment was coldly frowned
on by the assembly; and, a moment
later, it was explained to us that Mr..
Jonas was a hero-a real. life-sized,
first-class, sensational hero!
At the risk of his life and the sure
ruin of his chaste costume he had
plunged boldly into the raging tor
rent and snatched the beautiful Miss
Rosalee from the jaws of death-that
is, she would no doubt have drowned.
in time, if the water had sufficient
depth; but, to tell the truth, PoOlado
and afterwards quietly sounded the
water in that locality and found it
only three or four feet deep. There
was no current, and no holes; and if
she had been let alone she would have
walked comfortably out and saved her
bangs, which, alas! were lost in the
confusion of being dragged ashore.
But of course we could not say all
this to the enthusiastic admirers of
the thrilling deed. and the H. R."
posed as the lion of the hour.
Some of the reports placed the
depth of the water at seventy-five
feet, and said the young lady was be-
ing rapidly swept out of sight by
furious current. and that she had al
ready sunk four times before the dar-
ing swimmer could grasp her.
All this was too much for Poolado.
We wandered to our hotel. and he
paced the floor nervOusly all day, and
wrote desperately all night And the
result was letter to Miss Rosalee, of
which this is synopsis: