The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1892-03-29

ooor, n on answering the summons
encountered Watson, the sheriff.
Mr.. Watson was a round, short, red
faced man with sandy whiskers and
green eyes and a low, wheezy voice.
he was exceedingly unpopular on &C
count of his insolence and ~cowardice.
1t was a mystery how he ever got the
Office of sheriff. Just now he was
mounted on a tall, lank white horse,
and was SO inflated with the sense of
his WI Importance that he seemed
ready to burst. Marie said to her hus-
band afterwards that he looked for all
the world like agreat, yellow pumpkin.
She answered his salutation very
~graciously, however, and brought him
a drink of water from the we'll. lis
this the directroa to Solomon Libby's?"
he asked. "Oh, yes" replied Marie.
81 am going to Mr.. Libby's on an
unpleasant errand, madam" he con
tinued, unwilling to lose the oppor-
tunity of letting her know that he was
sheriff. 81 am Abner Watson, the
sheriff perhaps you have heard of me.
ooh, yes, indeed" said Marie" Mr..
Watson considered this a compliment
and became inflated.
eyes, madam, "he continued, there
are d~isagreeable duties aboutmy Office,
but they mustbe performed, no matter
what my feelings are, and if people
will not pay their honest depts, they
must take the consequences"
Certainly they must" assented
Maria, hypocritically.
Mr.. Watson bowed low and drove
on, thinking what a sensible woman
Marie was. Before he had gone ten
steps Maria blew such a blast on the
big dinner horn that the old white
horse took fright and gave a leap
which nearly unseated his rider.
Il wonder what she is blowing for9'
thought he, lit wants full two hours
of noon" Just then he heard an an-
swering call ahead of him. He stopped
his horse abruptly aud listened. An
other and another, each in different
directions, and the echo catching the
sound flung it from tree to tree till it
seemed to the affrighted sheriff that
the woods were full of horns.
Mr.. Watson we'll knew how UnpOpu-
lar he was, and visions of an Infatuated
mob rose before him. He pictured
himself tied to a tree and beaten. The
horrible thought vas too much for
him, so turning his horse, he applied
whip and spur, hoping to escape from
the men who, he felt sure, were after
him.
When Marie saw him pass the house,
she blew another blast on the horn
and then sat down, shrieking with
laughter.
Great was the CONSERVATION of the
loafers at the village tavern when they
saw Mr.. Watson tearing down the
road, bareheaded and wild-eyed. His
gaunt horse was covered with foam,
and on reaching the door, she theriff
fairy fell from the saddle into the arms
Of his astonished friends.
They gathered around him, asking
eager questions. els it Indians?"
asked one, "Indians!' painted the
sheriff, "worse than that" why,
I should think there were a hundred
armed men waiting to waylay mel
The woods were full of them! They
kept blowing horns to get their crew
togetherl l tell you," he continued,
as he mopped his wet face, "they are
a desperate sell It's as much as a
mans life is worth to go among them"
For a while, Mr.. Watson was con-
sidered quite a hero by a part of his
townsmen, while others laughed at his
adventure, but he was never tired of
recounting his narrow escape to any
who would listen. He could not be
induced to go again to collect the
money, till one day Mr.. Libby came
to town, paid his debt, and told the
story of how five wOmen and five
dinner horns had driven the sheriff
away.
marie" said John Macdonald when
he heard the story. Eye did weel, an
I'm ma sorry, for Mr.. Libby is a puir
hard-workin' mon, but I should ma
thought of such plan"
"Of course you wouldn't" replied
Marie, putting her arm round his neck
caressingly. Don't you dear slow old
Scotchman, that it takes a French
man to understand fnesse."
DORA ANNIs CHASE.
THE HERO OF HIGH BRIDGE.
BY FORREST GRISSEY.