The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1894-09-20

know not why. j looked about upon
the faces of my companions; but oil
were so grave and stern that ! was
ashamed of my fear. Was l., Fran
co.'s Ducret, to be child in the su-
preme hour of trial?
Then the hat was passed to me.
A mist rose before my eyes, and the
dingy, stuffy room seemed to reel in
my vision yet through it all l saw
Pulaski's stern, set face. his thin lips
drawn back over his white teeth, and
his eyes fairly blazing. 1 groped for
the hat like blind person, and thrust
my hand within. Perhaps / occupied
no more time in drawing my lot than
had the others; but it seemed an
eternity to me. All, yes time is not
rightly measured by hours and min
utes, but by events. 1t ttkes ages to
do some things, though the hour glass
may tell you but few minutes have
passed.
Before my fingers clutched the lit
tle bean had been terrified by n GER
tain knowledge that should draw the
fatal lot When it was firmly in my
clasp. however, and had passed the
hat along the board, that feeling left
me. ! felt relIeyed-almost happy;
the terrible ordeal was over, and Twas
impressed now so strongly by a feel
ing of exultant relief-so great a re-
action from my previous morbid fear
that | was willing TO swear that j
had been lucky, and that the fatal lot
had fallen, or would fall, to some
other | should not have to die All,
was young, and life was sweet to Inc
then.
sat back In my chair, and my eyes
followed the course of the hat about
the table, while there was almost a
smile upon my lips. My hand re.
mained tightly closed over the bean,
however, and the others did likewise.
/ could feel the small, hard particle
pressing against my palm, yet had
no feeling of fear as to its color.
Then the hat came back to Pulaski,
and almost feverishly he seized it and
clutched the remaining bean, turning
the hat upside down upon the table,
and rapping il smartly to show that il
was eiapty. The noise startled us all
into more upright positions still, for
several seconds, none sought to view
what he held i'll his hand. Then Pu-
laski opened his palm outward that we
might see, and displayed--a white
bean.
| looked from one to another of my
comrades as their hands slowly opened,
that strange feeling of safety still in
my heart, and the half smile upon my
| lips. Who had drawn the fatal lot?
Who among my companions--me
whom had known in the university,
men whom | had known from child
hood - who among them all was
doomed to perform the bloody work,
and in the same hour end his own ex-
istence?
Suddenly, with the amazement that
peal of thunder from clear sky
might cause one, saw that the eyes
of them all were bent on me /
glanced swiftly about the table; each
sind lay open, and in the palms thus
displayed were the thirteen white
beans. Ii took a minute, perhaps, for
the full significance of this fact to
dawn upon me.
Then opened my own hand.
"The lot has been drawn"
Pulaski's deep voice reached my ear
family, rs though from great dis
tance. | still sat at the dirty table
| the candles still sputtered in their
sockets; the palc, set faces of my
comrades were all about me. But |
had lived over my whole life again,
and It's end was now ut hand.
According to our agreement"
our leader said, more distinct.
ly than before, "the messenger
of death is to take this weapon"
he drew a pistol from the table
drawer and laid it before him
'and with it do his work. 1t is load.
ed with two silver bullets; one is for
his heart, the other for the messenger
himself. Is it understood?"
l bowed mechanically and received
the pistol.
zone barrel for him, the other for
you," repeated Pulaski, "for it is
agreed that he shall die"
"Aye, he must die" chorused the
others; but my parched lips gave
forth no sound.
Then, one by one, my friends came
and embraced me and went out but
Pulaski passed me without n word.
Only his fierce glance seemed to burn
into my very soul.
zone barrel for him, one
barrel for moH' muttered.
Staggering to my feet, l hid the pistol
in my bosom and walked through the
passage into the tobacconist's shop.
Old Lecop was behind the little
counter, as usual, but 1 passed him
without word.
"Wilt thou not have one to-day,
Francois?" he asked, pushing the box
toward me.
He was an old man, and blear-eyed I;
l., l. a.