The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1891-09-19
IiIIs and back twice. Die said 70 her.

Hill's and back twice" she said to her
at is strange" said Mr. TrOtt.
isaiah amt ono to loiter, in general :"
Didn't tell you SOL" said Mrs.
Trott. you'll never see neither Isaiah
nor the money again"
And when . o'clock came Mr.. Trott
put the horse in the old.fashioned red
cutterand climbed resolutely on theseat.
Lame or not lame" said he, "old
Whitefoot has got to take me over to
Marshall Hills tonight"
sits no use" said Mrs. Trott, dryly.
you'll find the bird has flown. lie
can pick up a foolish girl anywhere, but
fifty dollar bills amt SO easy TO get at.
Father, can't l go, tooY piteously
urged Deborah, stung to tho quick by
every malicious word and accent Of her
mother.
mo, daughter; no." said SIr. Trott.
II won't be long, And you're best off
at home"
lie drove away into the white veil Of
flying snow, the bells ringing with a
muffled sound and Old Wlliteioot's
breath rising in column Of steam
through the uncertain darkness.
"lsaiah?" said stout old Marshall
Hill. "0f course he's been here. Paid
me that there fifty dollar interest
money, and gave him receipt four
good hours ago. Amt he got home
yetP
And Thomas Trott scrambled once
more into the sleigh and drove rapidly
away.
Upon drcary side hill where to the
left steep preripice extended almost
perpendicularly downward, and a fir
clothed slope seemed to reach upward
to the right, Old Whitefoot stopped
suddenly. Thomas Trott caught up his
whip with energy.
That's the second time you've done
II, old fellow" cried he. "You shed
Just so when wo came by before"
But all in vain the whip descended.
Whitefoot stood with bristling main,
distended nostrils and four feet firmly
implanted in the snow, obstinately re-
fusing TO proceed.
II declare" said tho farmer, scratch
ing his puzzled head, "if l was abeliever
in such things should almost think
Whiteioot saw ghost"
At that moment there came brief
lull in the storm and tempest, and as
Farmer Trot sat there he heard groan.
at 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 u fig
ure crouched in a creEice Of rock half
way down the steep precipice, clinginS
to cluster OF stuntcd savin bushes.
"Help!" it cried feebly. "Helpl
helpw
BLESS mel" said Farmer Trott, cts
our lsaiahw
And so it was. Plodling 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-
cuping from still more disastrous fate
by holding desperately to the savin
roots.
~ don't know what l should have
done il you had not heard my voice"
said he. 81 could not have held on
much longer"
"And you may thank old Whitefoot
for that said Mr.. Trott, as he helped
Isaiah into the sleigh. "He'd a-stopped
on tho way down ii Iwould have let
him."
So Isaiah Blackburn reached the old
farm house safely ut last, where Debby
and her mother were anxiously sitting
up, and told his tale.
Mrs. Trott burst into tears.
"Isaiah," said she, ~ spoke evil of
you, and Pm sorry for it."
And Deborah'S blue, tear wet eyes
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 his blue eyed wife.
~ do believe, Debby," says her moth
or, you've got the best husband in the
worldw
And Debby, playfully parodying her
mother, says:
didn't tell you SOP"