The Pioche weekly record. [volume] (Pioche, Nev.) 1877-1900, 1894-02-08


MY LIFE.
pins-but she never doubted anyone
might misunderstood when she pointed
upwards to the SIX es and the fat
above.
The man, who was laying his tall
hat on the table, looked up and saw
the gesture, Then his jaw dropped
and his face became ashy-gray Sister
Ursula had never seen Terror in the
flesh, well-dressed and fresh from a
round of calls. She gathered herself
up to climb on, but the man within
uttered n cry and ran round the room
in circles as a dog runs seeking lost
glove
''He is mad" thought Sister Ursula.
"Oh, heavens and that is what has
driven him mad"
lie was STOPPING fondly over some
thing like the coffin of a little child.
Then he rushed at the window open
mouthed. Sister Ursula went up
wards and EDWARDS, none the less
swiftly because she heard the crash of
broken glass and its tinllling on the
pavestones below. For the second
time only in her career she looked
down. A silk hat was bobbing wildly
not Il dozen rungs beneath, and the
voice of fear cried hoarsely, where
is it? Where is it?" Then went I'M
to the roofs the roaring and the laugh
ter of great crowd; yells, cat calls;
ki-yls and hootings many times multi
Piled Her saint heard her at last
and caused Sister Ursula to disregard
the pains of going through the WIN
dow. Her one desire now was to
reach that haven, to jump, dive, leap
frog through it if necessary, and shut
out the unfortunate maniac. 1t was a
short race, and swift, and Saint
Ursula took care of the bottle. Not
the best of athletes can go swiftly up
ladder if he carries priceless violin
in one hand and its equally priceless
bow in his teeth, and wears vanished
leather boots.
At the window was the white face
of the invalid. Sister Ursula reached
the sash, threw it up, went through
let no man ask how-with amazing
! quiclSness and sank at the foot of the
bed, one hand on the bottle
There was no other way" she
painted. "The door was locked /
could not help. Oh! He is herer'
The face of Terror in the top hat
rose to the window level. The violin
bow was between his teeth and his
hat hung over one eye in the fashion
of early dawn.
''It's Colt Van Cott," said the
invalid, slowly and critically. "He
! looks quite an old man. Colt and his
| Stradivarius violin. How very bad
for the Strad!'
open the window. Is there a wayf
Open the Window roared Colt, with
out removing the violin bow.
Sister Ursula held up one hand warn.
ingly as she stopped over the invalid.
! For the second time did Colt Van
| Colt misinterpret the gesture and
! heaved himself upward, the violin and
the bow clicking and rafting at every
stride. He was fleeing to the roof, he
supposed, to save his life and his
violin from death by fre-fre in the
| basement-and the crowd in the street
/ fulfilled conflagration.
, The invalid fell back on the pillows
and wiped his eyes. He took the
medicine from Sister Ursula's hand,
still shaking with helpless laughter.
God bless you, Sister Ursula" he
said, you've saved my life"
"Thc medicine was TO be given,
she answered, simply. a could not
! help coming that way
| IF you only know, said the invalid.
| saw it from the window Good
heavens! the dear old world is just
the same rs ever. must get back &c
It, ! must positively get well and
get back. Sister Ursula doyou mind
telling nae how goa came IN that
! After iitsis .isier llssaia TOLD, Aaa