The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1895-04-04
PAMEI.A'S WALK.

PAMEIA'S WALK.
ssPamely was ter'bul sotln her way"
Grandpa Coan often remarked, "but
srter her adwentur with that bar, she
want nigh so sot.''
No one could deny that Pamela was
sssot'" Indeed, the pretty blackeyed
girl rather prided herself on this partic-
ular trait of character. She sometimes
said, with toss of her head that made
every curl in it dance, "them as is sot
gently gets their own way which is
certainly true, and shows that Pamela,
though living in the woods of Oswego
County, was wise in her day and gener-
,tion.
It was early in 1900. Already the
settlers axe had made tiny clearings,
and their log houses stood in the shade
of the gigantic pines for which that
locality was once famous. And two
miles from Pamela's house, at the fall
of the Oswego, the first saw mill clat-.
tered noisiiy. Here John Goodsell had
made clearing of several acres, and
built the largest log house in the vicin-'
ty, one of three rooms.
And it had need of such amplitude
for. it sheltered eight roistering boys
and girls, between Shom and the Coan
children the create. ;affection existed.
\ The Indian trail ran close to the
brush fence which surrounded Mr..
Cosn's clearing, thence wound devi-
atingly among the trees and terminated
at the rivers brink, just above the saw
mill.
But it was much oftener pressed by
the quick feet of the white children
than by the moccasined feet Of the In
lians. .-.-....
One sultry day in August Pamela sat
discontentedly on the broad doorstep:
It was overreached by a ruGe trelHs
covered with morning glory vines, now
one blaze of flowers. The busy whirr of
her mothers spinning wheel sounded
cheerily inside, and. mingled with the
voices of her four little brothers picking
berries on the edge of the woods,
But above all these sounds the, roal
of the falls came with an overwhelming
Ok rsuasion to the ears of Pamela, who
had been most cruelty disappointed
hat morning.
Her older brother had promised to
20 with her for days visit to Good
sells, whose home by the river offered
inducements for pleasure her own
'acked.
But on the last moment they had
gone with their father on An expedition
to the post at Oswego, SO Pamela sat on
the doorstep and pouteG--refusing any
assistance to her mother inside or the
little berry-pickers outside.
Suddenly thought came over her
VIII shouldn't she 60 alone? What
ueeo vas there for the boys to always go
with their guns? No one had seen any
signs of a bear since the snow went off
n the spring.
Yes; she would go, she was decided,
ssMother," she called, ''I'm going to
Goodsell's by myself: and that's all
here is to it!''
ssSakes live child! What are ye
thinkin' on?'' said Grandpa Coan. who
was working in the little garden before
the house. sGoin' through the woods
'lone, 'thout anyone with gun with
7e? Do We want to be ct by b'as?"
'sNo," said Pamela tartly, II don't
want to be ct, and I don't intend to be,
neither; but Pm goin,-I'm act on it,
70 there's no use talkin'."
And Pamela went, the objections Of
her grandfather and mother being
barely heard in her eager haste to be
off. In less than ten minutes after she
had reached her decision, her pink
sunbonnet was glancing through the
trees, as she followed the trail to the
riyer.
A day of cloudless enjoyment fol-
lowed, and at 6 O'Clock she began to
think Of going home. For, although
the sun was shining on the river with
MONDAY brightness, the forest ways
were already dimming and thick shad-
,ws lay across the trail.
Pamela, refusing the proffered co m.
panionship Of big, bashful Sam Good
sell and his gun, with an emphasis
that showed she was not, assembling,
started homeward. As she walked
swiftly along the narrow trail, her pink
sunbonnet hanging by one string from
ner hand, and the evening breeze. cool
from the river, blowing her tangled
curls round the flushed cheeks a smile
curved her lips, and she said to the,
birds, probably, since they were her
only companions: "'Sif / wanted that
gawk Sam GoodseH to 60 home with
mel He said my cheeks were just the
color of his mothers June roses. l
wonder if they be? Guess I'll run.
down to the spring and see A
CHEEKY laugh ended her soliloquy. A
few rods from the trail a spring bub-
bled Whitley. from the ground, then
vent a silver thread to the river.
BEARS spring" was the suggestive
pane it bore. The kindly sun lent a
raw to AID Pamela inquiry as, holding
back her curls with both hands, she
took long look at the rosy, dimpled
face that smiled at her from her sylvan
mirror.
Well suited with the result of her
INQUIRY she started to return to the
trail. Started-then stood like little
white statue of fear framed in the green
black of the pine woods. Between. her
and the trail sat black bear, his great
arms extended as though to embrace
her!
81 For hours it seemed to Pamela they