The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1892-08-05

pcnsivc way he some times had.
There wasn't u man on the ranch who
didn't hate to SEC Hen go, and who
wasn't honestly glad at his good fortune,
Even the misanthropic Posey evin ced
not little regret as he said good.by to
him, when, the morning after Thanks
giving, Hen sat on his brouco all ready
to start for Jersey, tho railroad town to
the cast of US.
1t was beauiful morning, almost
like spring, and Hen couldn't havs
wished for better day to start on. Ths
last good-by said, he Strengthened up,
sniffed the cool breeze, looked to see that
everything waas all right, and with an
"Adios, boys" was off. waving his hand
in acknowledgment of the rousing cheer
we gave him as he reached the top of the
hill across the creek.
Jersey was only twenty odd miles
away, and Hen expected to arrive there
at noon, in time to get his dinner, dis
pose of his bronco and make the Q
o'clock train East. There was plenty of
time, so he let his horse take its own
gait, aud gave himself up to his
thoughts.
Going home! Home! How sweet
the word sounded! Five years-only
five, but they seemed twice IA many. He
wondered how he had ever managed to
live through them. The first two had
not been so hard. He had been full of
hope and vigor and had told himself it
was only a little while-only little
while. Then when the reward for all
his toll seemed to be no less distant than
at first, it was hard. Sometimes he had
thought he would give it up and go
home to confess himself beaten; then the
picture of the little brown eyed girl who
had cried so bard that day in the meadow
lot-the little girl who, through her
tears, had told him to be brave ind pa
tient and all would be well-would come
before him and he would set his teeth
hard and "pitch" in again. Maybe it
had soured him bit. He wondered If
sometimes he had not been rather unso-
ciable, and rather poor company for his
companions, and concluded he had.
His thoughts turned again to Molly.
How pretty and sad she had looked with
the tears on her pink cheeks that day
(for somehow he couldn't for the life of
him think Of her except as she looked
when he saw her last). He remembered
how conscious he had been that she was
watching him as he went down the road,
and how he dared not look back for fear
his courage would give out. And just to
think! Only few days more, and
"Hullo! Wa.al, I'll be teetotally dog
goned!"
The wind had shifted around into the
north; dull gray clouds hid the blue aud
gold that had made the early day so fair;
two or three flakes of snow were visible
now aud then. 1t was one of these
striking Hen on the cheek that caused
him to rein up his horse so suddenly and
make the above inelegant remark.
Not living creature was in sight on
all the broad plain. Hen and his horse
were as much alone as if they had been
on the open sea. Human habitation, be-
tween the "L bar" and Jersey, there
were none. Hen dismounted and laid
his ear to the ground, aud listened in.
tently for few seconds. Yes-there it
was-that dull, whispering, indistinct
roar, which the plainsman knows and
fears-the voice or the coming blizzard.
The horse heard it, or felt it, aud turned
his head toward his master, whinnying
softly.
eyes, oil boy, it's comm all right
'nough." said Hen, as he rose from the
ground, Can men you's got t hustle
hull lot, Mister Pokey, Let 'er slide, OIL
chap! l reckon we en- make it."
Only twelve miles or so, and yet Hen
knew that the blizzard might overtake
him before he had travelled four. He
urged his horse faster, knowing the faith
full animal could easily stand the work.
fss.Sas growing rapidly colder, and the
iew nakeset>snow were being followed
by countless thouo~nds. The wind was
increasing in velocity, and Hen. bend
ing low over his horses neck, could
hear the vicious "swish-swish :" of the
snow as it was hurled through the grass
and along the ground. Very soon it was
impossible to see more than a hundred
yards or so ahead, but Hen knew the
general direction, and for safety's sake
was heading for the stage road leading
into Jersey from the southwest.
On and on they went, Pokey, alive to
the situation, pounding along at his top
travelling speed, steady as a clock. On
and on came the storm, covering horse
and rider with snow rs fiue as -four,
until they looked like ghosts. Hen,
leaning back to get his overcoat, lost the
direction. but he had full faith in Pokey,
and knew thst che little animal would do
better without any plotting.
How cold it was! Hens hands and
toes were like Jumps of ice-worse, they
had hardly any feeling left in them. His
ear and cheek on the side exposed to the
storm, were getting nipped. Well, he
would soon strike the stage road, and
then, If he had not miscalculated, there
would be only five or six miles"
"Great Scott!"
For Pokey had given sudden high
leap and sto"a till, painting. Almost
under his feet lay snow covered OBJ.
ject, with a strange look about it. Hen
leaned down from the saddle and turned
it over. 1t was dead man, holding
tight, in the stiff ri 5ht haud, whip such
as stage drivers use.
"Stage- driver, deader'n Tom Jeffer.
son. Drunk, likely, an fell of; poor
cuss!" But there was no time to stop
aud investigate. In another second