Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1895-12-13
che Story Trller.
A RACE FOR LIFE.

Many years ago there lived upon
the shores of Stevens river, a small
stream emptying into Casco bay, a
man named Peter John. An honest,
upright fellow, good neighbor and
friend, but with one abominable habit
that won him many enemies, and caus-
ed much discomfort and even suffering
to those around him. This fault was
an almost irresistible tondness for
practical joking, that would not allow
him to let an opportunity pass unim-
proved where he could crafty this
special passion of his being.
There came time, however, when
the exercise of this peculiarly brought
upon him an ordeal SO sharp that it
cured his unfortunate propensity,
to the great joy of his family and
friends. The process was disagreed.
BILE, but the cure was etfectual and
permanent.
One day Peter had been at work a
few miles from his home. After his
days labor was finished, his employ
er invited him to partake of the even
ing meal with him; this invitation
Peter accepted, and then his system
fortified with hearty supper, he
commenced his journey homeward.
1t was dark, cold December night /;
the wind swept titfully among the
great pines and beeches, and strange,
moaning sounds went sobbing through
the forest; now and then an owl ut
tered its hoarse cry, or the sudden
rattling Of the dead leaves told where
some timid animal scurried away
from the sound of footsteps.
But Peter was strong and stout
hearted, and trudged quietly along,
without paying much attention to the
sights aud sounds around him, until
he had achieved perhaps one-half of
his journey, when suddenly his ears
caught the sound of q horses feet de-
scending the long rocky path behind
him. Gradually the sound drew near
er, until the sharp, peculiar voice Of
the horseman could be heard urging
the beast to faster gait.
"Ah ha !" said Peter to himself, as
he heard the familiar tones; 'that is
Uncle Tom Barry"
Now Uncle Tom and Peter were
neighbors, that is 10 say, their clear
ings lay about a mile apart, and none
knew better than, Peter that the old
man was naturally of timid DISPOSE
ton, and Furthermore, that nothing in
spired him with greater fear, nothing
that he had not rather meet, than IL
wolf.
No sooner, therefore, had Peter be-
come convinced that the horseman be-
hind him was his neighbor, than he
resolved to use this trait of Uncle
Toms as means Of working out
what he considered would be a most
capital joke. His plans were soon laid,
and he prepared to put them into ex-
ecution. Creeping through the under
growth which bordered his path, he
crouched down, and patiently awaited
the approach of his victim. He had
not waited long before Uncle Tom, his
horse at a sharp trot and himself cast
ing timid glances around, arrived op-
posite his place of concealment. Peter
allowed him to pass few PAGES, and
then springing forward on his hands
and knees, be uttered one or two
snarling yelps, followed by the loud,
clear, gathering cry of the wolves.
The effect upon Uncle Tom was elec-
trical. Springing half way out of his
saddle, he uttered a scream of terror,
and then, STOPPING until his head near
ly touched the name, he plunged his
spurs into the horses hanks, and was
of down the road like shot. As for
Peter, he rolled over on his back and
kicked his heels in huge enjoyment Of
his success. Loud and long be laughed,
occasionally varying the performance
by making the forest ring with repe-
tilion of the wild, savage cry that had
struck such terror into Uncle Tons S
timid heart.
But there is an end 10 all things, and
SO after while there was an end to
Peters mirth, and he, wiping his eyes,
regained the path, and was about to
resume his journey, when he heard
sound that sent the cold shivers cours-
ing over his body, and almost froze the
blood in his veins. The wolves heard
his successful imitation of their music,
and were coming in full cry upon him.
In an instant he realized his position
and peril. From the sounds he knew
that the wolves were coming down on
either side of the path he had just
travelled. Therefore, the nearest point
of safety was his own clearing, more
than q mile away.
Calling all his energies into play, he
dashed down the path with scarcely
less speed and terror than did Uncle
Tom Barry himself. Peter was ia
NOUS runner, and had come off victoFI
in many trial Of speed when the
people had come together at raising
or log rolling, but this was no holiday
game. The race was for life. /
Down the long slope that led to
Pilkin's Hollow, and up the F|ascent
beyond, fled Peter, while hardly a
hundred yards behind came snarlng
pack hungry and fierce. The life of
an uuarmed man would not be worth
a minutes purchase could they once