Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1894-01-26
THE DEVILS MILE.

THE DEVILS MILE.
He refined in his black horse in the
courtyard of the Plough, and the foam
fell from the black beasYas snow from
bush. We had followed him with diff
Guilty in the dark out yonder, for he
rode like a mailman, and thousand
furies at his heels could not have forced
another effort from the 6-year-old mare
which carried him so well. Heaven,
what mailman he was, turning the
whole village out to see him dare the
DEVILS Mile at O'Clock in the morn
ing and coming home when an hour had
gone, with the brute mass of white,
and he a shaking, quivering coward,
who seemed to have lost in that 60 min
utes out and home every spark of the
his mad errand! And where was Dick
Dick, who bad taken up the mad wa
ger to gallop the mile with no moon
showing, and the mists rising from the
channel, and the darkness lying thick
between the hills, as though it had been
dropped upon the land? Where, indeed,
was Dick? Did he lie like log in the
hillfoot springfield he broken his head
at the White Row hurdle? Were we to
go out with fambeaux and spread afield
to bawl, ''Dick, Dick, hast broken thy
neck?" But the man who came in could
tell us nothing. He had lost Dick the
moment we had given him the word to
go. Dick was well enough-that he
would swear. It was he who needed
our attention, and would we get him
some brandy?
We got him the brandy, and we prop
ped him up before the blazing fire in
the kitchen-every one sat in the kitch-
en- O. nights in that little Hampshire
hunting box, the Plough, and then we
began to look at him. He was very
white, truly, and his hair was dank, as
though he had been dragged through the
ditch in the clover patch, but beyond
ed upon him. In all my life I have
never seen such depth of nervous deg
radiation. He trembled like horse that
has scented fire, and for many minutes
he could not speak a word to us. With
any other man this would have excited
our merriment, but with Douglas Tas-
ker! Why, there was not a man in the
country who had half his devil or could
hold him for moment over any sort of
country. The thing was too absurd,
and waited for his explanation, know
ing we'll that it would vindicate him.
But it was curious that such light
ly made wager should have had such an
end, and 1 fell to recalling all the old
women's tales of the hills and of the
bevy of sprites and imps that haunted
them. Pshaw! What rubbish they all
We're!
1t had been some three hours before
this ride that Douglas had thrown down
the glove to the equestrian sages of the
inn. There were a dozen Of us there
dining in our quiet way-old Colonel
Blake, who had hunted the pack 80
years ago and now hobbled out to his
dog cart on crutches; Harry Dixie, the
whip; DR.. John, who swore that the
hunt cheated him, for there were no
falls; several boys just promoted to cobs
and half dozen of the very straightest
horsemen we could show. We had these
little gatherings many a night in the
winter, and many a man hunted over
the table there as he had never hunted
over the country round. I used to lis
ten to their tales and say to myself I
would write them all up some day, if
Parson Bob Tollemache didn't write
them before me. Aye, a rare hand with
the pen was he, and as for the country
he knew every inch Of it-a veritable
chart on beach horse. That was
pretty argument for disestablishment
when the bishop got him-the best
that ever strobe a pony over any
gallop, with nerve like bessemer and
judgment that never failed him. He
listened that very night among us, and
Isaw the twinkle in his eye when Doug
las offered to go out against the room
at IL o'clock and ride the DEVILS Mile
for hundred down on the table at
breakfast. He was sane, of course, and
madmen only receive pity from him,
but he SAID nothing. Who knows that
Lie OlC 6ElAlG ilu IiOU IuIk SOulCW AGIt
down beneath the black in spite of 10
years Of homily and ''when the wicked
MANI" You can never tell, for parsons
do not carry their hearts upon their
sleeves for every daw to pick at, and he
was no exception.
"a wager, a wager!" The cry had
been taken up as the men rose to their
Foot t,f.t a 1ift1n A,,c1ol r 10
and crowded around Douglas. Dick
Helinre was the first to answer, II take
you," but i'll spite OF their bravado none
else came on. do you fear. boys?"
cried Douglas again. will the night
air stop your threats, or do you want
time? take any man the fair mile and
finish across the hillfoot bridge for a
hundred with his morning tea. Answer
when you like. There's my money
even if the devil himself stakes against
me!''
There was another shout at the chal-
lenge, and Parson Bob put in his word
"You'u break your neck, boy, !" he said,
ssover the mile night like this, and as
for the devil, if you take any more of
that wine, you be in good company. -
But Douglas was in no mood then to
handy words with the parson, and out
we all went in troop to see The horses
saddIed, leaving the old fellow at the
end of his half bottle and at the begin
ming of his cigar, for he was bachelor
and dined at the Plough, when the mer
lived the life there in the hunting sea
son. We were all too curious to see the
meeting to think about anything in
side and our ardor was only stimulated
when we saw the mist steamlng up from
the lowlands and the night as black al
tempest cloud with never an inch o.
clear sky or breath OF WIND TO girl
tbe sea fog. What did it matter TO us
There would be horse or two Iald up
and men would lie by with rheumatism
for a day OF two, but what odds! W.
should keep our necks at any rate, wnll'
the two madmen would lose theirs
and lose them assuredIy they would OF
such night and with such blackheS
on the land. -, -
It was just ~ O'Clock by the bell o