Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1893-12-06

the landlady to make you some tea.
You are starving. No. not a word.
; You've done your days vork, little
!. woman, and earned q rest. You can
come Zone to- morrow ON the stage, if
you're rested"
So he foraged, and brought trium-
phantly forth half chicken. a couple
of slices of melon and some light bis
cults, with generous noggin of milk
to wash it all down. The landlady
grunted an inquiry, was informed of the
acts, and forbidden to disturb her
self, nor emerge from her bunk in tae
lean-to.
Maude supped while the doctor got
his traps together and saddled his
horse, and then Maude brought in her
wheel and watched him ride off in the
dark with much lightened heart. She
was weary and sleepy, and she bathed
her face and soused her yellow curls,
and said her prayers, and curled up on
the Doctors bed and fell asleep.
Two hours later she awoke. The
prairie was flooded with silver moon.
light which streamed in through the un.
gllzed window and made the room as
light as day. She achcd in every limb:
vague dread seized her, she was so
far from home; she yearned for the
small, vine-hung farmhouse, the rustic
fence and the little grove of trees. She
sat up and pushed the curls from her
forehead. she left the small campbell,
and walked stiffly and painfully to the
window. The road stretched like a
| pSh ~ H. -
seemed to he drawn by it; half asleep.
she fastened on her little hat, drew on
her light coat and YEARLY crept down
the implanted stairs. She would ride
to the halfway house before the moon
sank; then; she would seel Fifty miles
there and fifty miles back-a hundred
miles-A century! Had not some girl
III the South told her she had ridden a.
century, Ever since that day little
envy had been in her heart of that girl.
and she sometimes wished very much
that she, too, might wear upon her cycling
blouse that tiny bar Of gold, with its
magic figures, recording q ride of one
hundred miles.
AS she thought, she unbolted the inn
door and noislessly rolled out her Wheel
She could not get away fast enough, once
she was outside, but leaving the door
wide open she sped of along the wagon
track, with its two wide ruts and central
ox-track, into the radiance of the silver
night. After few moments she wax
ened up completely, the aches began to
leave her muscles, the clouds cleared
from her brain, she fairly flew along!
Two o'clock; she got off and walked for
half-a.mile, listening, enchanted, to the
song of moonstruck prairie lark.
Three o'clock, and by and by she dis
cerned in the fading light the road to
the halfway house. She looked reso-
lutely away from it, II seemed to coax
her, to whisper of the long, lonely stretch
ahead, of the Indians in their tepees, in
the hollow; of host of vague and name
less terrors; of how lonely and weary
and defenseless abe was, on that vast
plain, twenty-five miles-twenty five
miles-and the halfway house flashed
past and was soon left far behind.
She pedaled mechanically now; it was
growing dark in the West, but in the
East the dawn was family breaking.
She imperceptibly Jagged, her eyelids
were heavy, she reused herself and saw
the first of the farm fields! Her heart
throbbed; her temples throbbed; every
pulse in her body seemed to start into
wild action, tingles ran through her
limbs; she fancied dozen times that she
had come to the last field. and as she
looked to see. only miles of shaven har-
yes, fields stretched before her. She
began to doubt whether she was in the
right way, then she laughed, for there
was only one way, one road track.
She heard voices calling, Lizzie's voice,
Auntie's voice; she gripped the handle
bars and pedaled faster, she labored hard,
but could scarcely move her wheel; it
was like riding up a hill suddenly she
fell off, and as she shook herself to-
gether and wakened up, she found her
self a few yards up the small ascent that
ended her midnight pilgrimage. Slowly
and dreamily she pushed the wheel up
the road, sometimes standing for a mo-
ment with her left hand on the rough
rails of the fence, and her eyes closed in
involuntary slumber The early morn
ing wakened, the air was full of the song
of larks. The sunlight touched her wan
cheeks and glistened from the tears of
WEAKNESS that gathered in her haggard
eyes. Her pretty lips were drawn and
pale, dust chung to her little hat, aud lay
thick on her golden curls.
When she reached the gate she would
have fallen, but that watching Auntie
came RAINING and caught her in her
arms. 81 am tired" she said softly, and
fell sound asleep.
"And Carr" Oh his leg knitted finely,
and the Doctor said that Maud was
born surgeon. and only her entreaties
compelling him to NEEDLE with her band
aging. "And then2" Well, in the fall
she married him. "Who?" WHY, the
Doctor, of consolidating.