The Neihart herald. [volume] (Neihart, Mont.) 1890-1901, 1895-08-10
A NIGHT Of: HORROR.
In Search of n Drink of Water. Chugwater
Gets Stuck In.

w Shhk
Gets Stuck Up.
The home of the Chugwater family is n
commodious down tcwn structure built
with an eye To comfort, well lighted and
thoroughly heated.
For the proper understanding of the
causes that led tn the domestic tragedy
herein set forth it will he necessary for the
reader to grasp the idea that the heating
arrangements of the Chugwatcr mansion
are especially complete. 1t will enable
him TO understand why, in spite of the
vigilance of Mrs. Chugwater and the ex-
frtions of Bridget, the faithful kitchen
lady, there still remained in the house in
spite of the Iateness uf the season a small
but persistent colony of flies. These pestif.
erous insects kept themselves out of reach
of the broom and fybrush, refused to be
cajoled or driven out of doors and con
tinued to take an active interest in the
affairs Of the family regardless of the state
of the weather and the latcness of the STA
son They were no ordinary flies They
were stayers.
On "a certain fateful evening some weeks
ago Mrs. Chugwatcr, driven to despera-
ton, went to IA drug store and laid the
case before the intelligent clerk.
She emerged from the store shortly aft
"a " WIN g NhtS "ilcih nv Val iti
with unusual care.
After the evening meal, when every body
else had left the dining room, she unfold
ed that package.
She spread upon the dining table an I'M
posing array of traps designed to catch the
early rising, or, rather, the early descend.
ing, fly next morning and make an end Of
him, and with a smile of triumph which
Mr.. Chugwater could not have understood
had he noticed it she joined the family in
the sitting room.
The night wore on. The Pickering
glare of the street lamps outside family
outlined the dim, shadowy forms of belated
pedestrians hurrying homeward through
the fierce tempest. In disma howls
the voice of the storm king rose and fell as
if rehearsing a midnight mass for the
year that was soon to lay its weary bones
in the neglected graveyard of the past,
and the unresponsivo earth decked itself
in a mantle of spotless white as if mock
ingly displaying its boundless wealth of
material for the swaddling clothes of tie
new year soon to be born.
The inmates of the Chugwater mansion.
undisturbed by the fury of the warning
elements outside, slept in peace, and ST.
lence reigned within it's walls, save that
from the apartment occupied by Mr..
Chugwatcr there came at irregular inter
walls a jarring sound like the note of a dis
tant foghorn. 1t significd that Mr.. Chur-
water was ali right. He always slept that
way. And the night continued to wear
on.
1t must have been nearly an hour past
midnight when Mr.. Chugwatcr became
entanglcd in an unusually complicated
and obstinate snore that refused to go
either backward or forward. He awokc
with "a jerk and found he was thirsty.
Climbing out of bed, he CROPPED his way
down stairs and out toward the kitchen.
with a dimly defined idea of getting some.
thing to drink.
Let us not inquire too closely what he
expected to drink. It is perhaps none of
our business. 1t may have been milk.
AS he entered the dining room lie Stun
blcd over a chair that unluckily stood in
the way. He lunged forward, striking
one of the leaves of the dining table and
upsetting that piece of furniture. 1t fell
toward him, and as he put out his hands
to save himself they came in contact with
something horribly Shiny and sticky. The
impetus of his forward movement carried
him down with the table, and he rolled
over on something that stuck to his face.
In his struggles to free himself the sticky
thing wrapped itself all about his face and
head. HIS hands, equally smearod and
swathed, BEGAN more tangled and help
less at every wi d surge he made, and with
a mutlled yell lac rose 10 his feet. He was
standing on something moist, sticky and
terrible that seemed to trip him when he
moved. In vain he tried to pull off the
beastly wrappings that en- yclOped his head
There seemed to be nothing he could get
hold of, and his hands had lost their power
to grasp anything.
BLANK dash the dad hinged luck"
came with a stiiled roar from what seemed
to be the upper section of Mr.. Chugwa~
ter's anatomy. What the blanknation is
this business anyhow? Who the Sam
Hill has been smearing molasses and por-
Gus p~lastcrs all over the blamed house,
Mfr! Ch'f! BIZ! SIX! Glrkl Gr'sh!'
With convulsivo energy be clawed at the
~wrappings hat covered his mouth. He
succeeded in making an opening, and his
voice rang through the house with a force
and volume simply appalling.
Bring a light, somebody" he yelled.
"Murderl Thieves! Fire! Call the pc
lice! Good heavens, can you hurry? Get
Il move on you! For the blessed angels
sake, be quick!'
The terrified members of the family
came trooping into the dining room. The
gas was hurriedly lighted, and there stood
Mr.. Chugwater in his night clothes cover
ed from head to foot with sticky fly paper,
while from a ragged opening in the sheets
that enyeloped his head there came Ian
guagc dreadful to hear. The table stood
on its side, Il broker chat sprawled near
it, and the room looked as if a cyclone
had passed through it.
Mrs. Chugwater leaned against the side
board and surveyed him with emotions
that for some moments deprived her of
n%tterance.
Its you, is it, Josiah?'' she said at last
family, You seem considerably stuck
up"
How she helped Mr.. Chugwater to free
himself from the m%addening fly paper,
how she soothed his wounded feelings.
scraped the sticky stuff from his face, told
him he ought never to venture alone
through the house at night, explained that
she hadn't thought it necessary to notify
him of the trap she had laid for the flies.
but that she might have known he would
walk right into it-all these things belong
to the domain of those sacred confidence
of home life into which the meddlsome
outsider has no right to intrude.
And the flies reported for business noxt
morning, as usual. Chicago Tribune.
Surely.