Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-02-23

| I down the mountain. The lower range of Burnt Ridge was still unecIipsed by the creeping shadow of the mountain ahead of her. Without a watch, but with this familiar and slowly chanrinc dial spread out before her, she knew the time to minute. Heavy Tree hill, a lesser height in the distance, was al. ready wiped out by that shadowy index fnger-half past sevenl The stage would be at Hickory Hill inst before half-past eight; she ought to anticipate it, if possible-h would stay ten minutes to change horses-she must arrive be- fore it leftI
 There was a Good two-mile level be- fore the rise of the next range. Now, Blue Lightningi All you knowI And that was much--for the little chip hat and fiuttering ribbons we'll bent down over the bluish mane, and the stream ing gauge of her mantle, almost level with the horses back, swept down across the long table-land like skim- ming bluejay. A few more bird-like dips up and down the undulations and then came the long, cruel ascent of the Divide.
 Acrid with precipitation, caking with dust, slithering in the slippery impal- pablo powder of the road, groggily stag gering in a red, dusty dream, coughing, snorting, head tossing, becoming sud- denly dejected, with slouching haunch and limp legs on easy slopes, or wildly spasmodic and agile on sharp accliv- ities, and Blue Lightning began to have ideas and recollectionsi Ahl she was a devil for lark-this lightly-clinging, caressing, blarneying, cooing creature up therel He remembered her now. Ha! very we'll, then. Hoop lal And, suddenly leaping out like a rabbit, bucking, trotting hard, ambling lightly, walking on three legs and recreating himself-as only Californian mustang could-the invincible Blue Lightning at last stood triumphantly upon the summit The evening star had just pricked itself through the golden mist of the horizon line-eight o'clockl She could do it nowl But here, suddenly, her first hesitation seized her. She knew her horse. she knew the trail, she knew herself-but did she know the man to whom she was riding? A cold chill crept over her, and then she shivered in sudden blast; it was night at last, sweeping down from the invisible Sierras, and possessing all it touched. But it was only one long descent to Hickory Hill now, and she swept down securely on it's wings. Half-past eight! The lights of the settlement were just ahead of her, but SO, too, were the two lamps of the waiting stage before the post office and hotel
 Haply the loungtng crowd were gathered around the hotel, and she slipped into the post office from the rear unperceived. As she stepped be- hind the partition, its only occupant-a good-looking young fellow with red dish mustache turned towards her with flush of delighted surprise, But it changed at the sight of the white, de- termined face that had never looked once towards him, but was fixed upon a large bag, whose yawning mouth was still open and propped up beside his desk.
 Where is the through money letter that came in that bag?" she said, quickly.
 "What-do-you-m he stam- mered, with a face that had suddenly grown winter than her own.
 ''I mean that it's a decoy, checked at Heavy Tree Crossing, and that MT. Home, of San Francisco, is now wait ing at my office for to know if you have taken it.''
 The laugh and lie that he had at first tried to summon to mouth and lips never reached them. For, under the spell of her rigid, truthful face, he turned almost mechanically to his desk and took out package.
 Good. Godl You've opened it all ready!" she cried, pointing to the broken seal.
 The expression on her face, more than anything she had said, convinced him that she knew all. He stammered under the new alarm that her despair ing tone suggested: "Yes-I was owing some bills-the collector was waiting here for the money, and took some thing from the packet. But was go-