The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1893-11-09

~NNA oho oo1L VI uly THUS OIL insects,
the hot, yellow sunshine on the grass,
and over all the blue, blue sky, with
out fecl or cloud. Inside, the rustic
OF book leaves, the ceaseless buzz of
the schoolroom. through which the
firm voice OF the teacher breaks pleas
antly now and then; the sunshine ON
the floor, the little hot faces with beads
of perspiration on white brows; tho
bare, duslky, sun-browned feet swing
ing restly from high benches, and, both
outside and inside, the scintillating,
scorching, shivering heat of perfect
day in midsummer
Suddenly voice rings through the
room high and sharp. with note of
terror in it:
"Oh, Miss Fannie, look at that dogl'
Fannie Leslie, the young Kentucky
teacher, raises her eyes absently from
the page she is correcting, but the
vision that meets her gaze quickly
changes the expression to one of
horror.
A huge dog stands in the doorway, a
dog lean and lanl1 and hungry, a dog
with hot. blood-shot eyes, and long
ropes of froth hanging from his huge
jaws; unquestionably mad dog.
mad dog? Ahl what more horrible
danger can threaten anyone? The
brave man. unarmed, us Fannie Leslie
Is, would shrink from a conflict with
the creature.
Thought is a laggard in moments of
peace and security, but let danger
threaten, and thought flashes through
tho brain with the rapidity of light,
showing us within a minute space Of
time vivid picture of past years,
present danger and half-formed hopes.
SO Fannie Leslie, during the one
brief moment that the dog hesitated on
the threshold, sees as by flash the
whole vista of life unrollet, and the
present peril overshadowing it all.
Back over her memory, like a rush OF
waters, flooded her childhood days. her
cottage home, the village school, her.
self little brown-faced, bare footed
schoolgirl with tangled curls and soiled
apron; the years, passing so slowly it
seemed to her then, but laden with all
the gladness of childhood
The winters drifting like flakes OF snow
The summers like buds between.
Then the dawn of ambition in her
brain, followed so closely by earnest
ness in heart. The little white church,
with the stream in which she was
baptized flowing near it; the PASTORS
words on that last day. Her fathers
wrinkled brow and rough hand on her
hair; her mothers thin, loving
face, and the children-all younger
than herself-their good-by words
and kisses when she left home
to teach this school. her OVID
earnestness in assuming the re-
sponsibiiity, how she had prayed for
wisdom to bend the twig Alright, how
she had told herself that she would
make any sacrifice for these little ones
Entrusted to her care. Has the time
come when that sacrifice can be made.
and does she shrink from it? The room
Is filled with helpless, frightened chill.
dren, barefooted and thinly clad. This
huge. rabid dog. snarling and growing
and swapping his white teeth. his laws
dripping with deadly poison, is about to
spring into their midst and deal out
death to them. She is their only pres
ent protector. her slight strength is the
only barrier between them and deadly
peril. And what can she do, after all?
She las no weapon-not even stick or
stone Is within her reach, and those
slim little hands are too frail to battle
unarmed with this huge, mad brute.
Were she to try, she could not save the
children, and it would be certain death
to her. Life is sweet, and she is so
young to dicl Only twenty! Why, she
had hoped to do SO much good before
she died; to be useful in her life. She
can escape. if she will, by letting the
children shift for themselves. Shall