The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1895-09-11

strobe into the house, leaving George
Van Spoke choking with grief and
anger.
Van Spoke thought Of suicide. But
that would not win him Ethel. He
thought of giving up his fortune and
marrying her, penniless as he was.
But she would not have him under such
conditions Torn by conflicting emo
lions, rage and grief, love and hate,
wild envy Of Sprockett, mad condemna-
ton Of self, he buried his head in his
hands and wept. Several hours passed,
but still he lay there hopelessly down.
cast. The evening shadows fell, the
darkness came, the cricxets and the
frogs began their melancholy chorus,
the butler announced dinner, but to it
all he was oblivious.
Then suddenly, as comes the fash Of
the lighthouse lamp across the stormy
deep to the belated seaman, came an
idea. The race of tomorrow! It was
as though the sun had suddenly ap-
the darkness. The blackness of de-
spair was gone. Ethel would be his.
And Uncle Reuben-pshaw! He had
stood many harder fall. The deep
gutter was the place that would serve
him-right at the foot of the long
slope leading to the head of Barnacle
bay.
| The moon was sinking low in the west
and the earth was wrapped in dark
/ Thu hnnco cni0,,c Of
the danger which threatened its mas
ter, lay silent in sleep when George
Van Spoke silently crept from his
chamber and made his way to the
room in the distant part of the house
where the bicycles were kept
BY the light of the dark lantern
which he carried he succeeded in pick
ing out his uncle's favorite wheel,
which he rolled to the middle of the
room. He drew from one pocket fine
short file, from another small ball of
putty and from a third little can of
black paint which he opened with his
knife. All was in readiness. Before
him lay the machine which his uncle
was to ride.
| Three cuts on the frame work, a lit
tie putty and a little paint, and it
would never stand the strain to be
placed upon it on the morrow. A
vision of Ethel Wheeling flashed
through Van Spoke's mind, of Ethel
riding at his side, and he bent over
and scratched the paint with his file.
The noise Jared his nerves and cold
chill crept through his veins.
He saw his uncle, who had cared for
him since his boyhood, lying bleeding,
perhaps dead among the wreckage Of
his Buster, in the bottom of the gut
ter. A struggle ragged within him. On
one hand was Ethel and happiness,
but gained by treachery. On the other
long, dull, hollow life, but untainted
by dishonor. His better self con-
| quered. He rose, wheeled the bicycle
back to its place and crept back to his
bed.
| The occurrences of the previous day
had been blotted from the memory of
Reuben Tires when he greeted his
nephew on the following morning and
cbeerily babe him prepare to accom-
| pany him to the scene of the great
race, since he wished his dear George
to witness his triumph over the bla-
tant Springer. Van Spoke obeyed the
command. BY ten o'clock the two
were spinning to the scene of the con-
test.
They reached the starting point at
Speckled Trout inn some minutes be
| fore the time agreed upon. The other
contestant, with number of his grand
children, was already on the ground,
as were several neighbors, who were
| to act as referees and officers. The con-
| ditions were amicably settled-two
miles straightaway. on bet of one
hundred dollars; the older of the rae
ers to have minute start.
| A boy arrived to announce that the
judges were at their post at the end of
the course. All was in readiness.
George held his uncle's sweater when
| the time came for the old man to go to
the mark. The signal was given and
| away went Mr.. Springer. his venera-
BILE head bent low over the handle bar,
hidden from view by his back,
which was raised like the hump of a
| camel. A minute. Then off shot Reu-
ben Tires. his eyes fixed on the ground
| just ahead, every muscle and nerve
| strained for the trial to come.
The others followed, pedaling their
fastest to keep the racers in view. Van
| Spoke took the lead, and soon left them
far behind. With beating heart he spun
along, striving to keep in sight of his
uncle. He could see his red jersey
plainly. Tires was gaining. Then the
old man disappeared over the brow of
little hill. Harder and harder Van
Spoke pedaled on.
They were in view again, spinning
i II. CT .ofoh haloxxr nil