The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1890-04-26
Single Copies S Gents

He has had time to go to Marshall
Hills and back twice" she said TO her.
self.
1T is strange, said Mr.. Trott Elsa
iah amt one to loiter, in general
Didn't tell you soy said Mrs, Trott,
you'll never see neither Isaiah nor the
money again"
And when o'clock came Mr.. Trott
put the horse into the old fashioned red
cutter and climbed resolutely on the seat.
Lame on not lame" said he, sold
Whitefoot has got to take me over to
Marshall Hills tonight"
"lts no use, said Mrs. Trott, dryly.
You'll find the bird has flown. He can
pick up foolish girl anywhere, but fifty
dollar bills amt 30 easy to get at"
Father, can't go, tooy' piteously
urged Deborah, stung to the quick by
every malicious word and accent OF her
mother.
No, daughter; no, said Mr.. Trott 81
won't be long. And you're best off at
home"
He drove away into the white veil of
flying snow, the bells ringing with a
muffled sound, and Old Whitefoots S
breath rising in a column Of steam
through the uncertain darkness.
'Isaiah?" said stout old Marshall Hill.
"Of course he's been here Paid me that
there fifty-dollar interest money, and
give him receipt four good hours ago.
Amt he got home yet?''
And Thomas Trott scrambled once
more into the sleigh and drove rapidly
away.
Upon dresry side hill, where to the
left a steep precipice extended almost
perpendicularly downward, and fir
clothed slope seemed to reach upward to
the right, Old Whitefoot stopped sudden
ly. Thomas Trott caught up his whip
with energy.
That's the second time you've done
it, old fellowr cried he. "You SHE'D
just so when we came by before"
But all in vain the whip descended.
Whitefoot stood with bristling name, dis
tended nostrils and four feet firmly inn
planted in the snow, obstinately refusing
to proceed
II declare" cried the farmer, scratch
ing his puzzled head, ''if was a believer
in such things, | should almost think
Whitefoot saw ghost"
At that moment there came brief
lUll in the storm and tempest, and as
Farmer Trott sat there he heard groan.
1T amt the old pine tree creaking, .
said he, NOR yet it amt the wind. It's
something human
And straining his eyes through the
snow illuminated darkness he saw a
figure crouched in a crevice of rock half
way down the steep precipice clinging
to cluster Of stunted sayin bushes.
"Helpr' it cried feebly. "Helpl helpg'
"Bless met" said Farmer Trott. "it's
our Isaiah
And so it was. Plodding homeward
from his errand, his foot had slipped in
the storm and darkness, and falling half
way down the hill, he had broken his
leg and badly bruised himself, only es
Gaping from still more disastrous fate
by holding desperately to the savin roots
II don't know what l should have
done II you had not heard my voice,
said he. IL could not have held or
much longer"
"And you may thank old Whitefoot
for that said Mr.. Trott, as he helped
Isaiah into the sleigh. He'd a-stoppeG
on the way down II would have lei
him.
So Isaiah Blackburn reached the ole
farm house safely at last, where Debby
and her mother were anxiously sitting
up, and told his tale.
Mrs. Trott burst into tears.
Isaiah said she, 81 spoke evil o.
you, and I'm sorry for it."
And Deborah's blue, tear wet eye
spoke all that was needed on her part.
They were married In the early spring
and Isaiah rented half of the Trott farm
and lives in the wing Of the old house,
select tenement of three rooms, with hi
blue eyed wife,
81 do believe, Debby, says her moth
or, you've got the best husband in tn
worldr'
And nebby, playfully parodying he
mother, says:
"Didn't tell you sog" Amy Randolph
in New York Ledger.