The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1895-06-05
ern lines. {"

One dull, heavy, October Sunday
night. George Langley would gladly
have sat whole hour in the most un-
painted, unpadded, draughty and
iolty carriage Of any "one of these
Southern lines" if he might get from
the village to the town. He had been
paying a stolen visit to Kate to
lovely Kate Bascott, of Dewhurst. He
had said good-by to her at the bottom
OF her fathers garden, and run all the
way to the railway station. only to
find the last train gone. Eleven had
struck and the one street of Dewhurst
was as empty of people as the church
yard.
Langley sat down on a hand.truck
which he found chained to post He
lit his pipe and proceeded to con.
slider his position. Hardly had he be-
gun the reflection that he had walked
many miles that day, and was glad of
his rest on the hand-truck, when
flashed inio his mind the picture Of a
punt, with sculls in her, seen Inoored
below the bridge to-day. Then he
telt flush of pleasure when he
brought to mind that it must now be
about ebb at Dewhurst. In a light
punt, and on the back Of six-knot
tide, he should fly along the nine
miles of water to Bersea in less than
half the time it would take him to
reach the halfway house on his weary
feet.
At the bridge he had to proceed
carefully for he did not know the
ground well; there was no regular
landing place, and hardly glimmer
of light trickled through the lowering
clouds. With a feeling of profound
relief he found the skiff with skulls ly-
ing on the thwarts. Casting of the
painter he stepped aboard with
chuckle of remorse when he fancied
the owners arrival later to find the
boat gone.
Rowing alone through the damp
darkness of that autumn night was
not inspiring; but he realized with
delight the great pace from the light
swiltness with which the skulls came
to him through the water, and from
the ponderous, silent sliding by of the
black banks.
His course lay nearly due south.
There was something in the manner
of the ghostly banks, and in the hur-
ried whispering of the water at his
bow, which told him he should not
reach home before the storm broke.
"In few minutes the gale will
break, said Langley to himself
"This is nice sort OF cockle-shell to
be abroad in the dark if the water
gets sloppy. 1t would be no easy Job
to land here. suppose if the storm
does come down particularly heavy /
must take it as a judgment sent as
punishment for stealing the boat.
All al once the trees on the bank
set up shrill whistle OF alarm, and
the woods on the hills took up the
alarm and burst into roar. The
channel Of the river was filled with a
barrier Of wind and rain, through
which, in spite of Langley's utmost
efforts, he could not press the skiff.
Water flashed in spray from the
bows, and stopped aboard at the couu-
ter. He tasted the salt water on his
mustache. He bent his head under
the rain flung upon his neck, and felt
it run down his back.
The banks were steep and almost
indiscernible. If the punt were
swamped it would go hard with him.
He was strong aud healthy; only
twenty full of life aud hope;
he was just beginning to see road
towards competency. Then there was
Kate-there was Kate?-there was his
Kate No, no; it would never do to
drown here.
But the boat was half full, the banks
high and dim, the storm tremendous.
1t looked as if he were to perish after
all
BY Jove, that gust had whirled the
punt's head round as if she was
cork Yet it would be cruel as we'll as
ridiculous to die here.
And still the tempest was over
whelming; the water getting sloppy
the punt heavier-deader and deader.
Let him try to make out the exact
point of the river where the water was
jolting, and tossing and wounding his
puny skiif.
Yes; he was in the Long Reach,
where the bank on either side is
steep.
Stayl What was that low-cofiin-
shaped thing standing back against
the frantic sky9