Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1896-08-10

horizon. The sun was hidden, and
darkness was upon us. Desperately I
struggled on, alternately praying that
the storm would prove merciful. and
that John would come.
I reached the end of the furrow,
and the storm was not yet upon me.
Two more rounds would make the half
acre-and blindly anxious to save our
homo I determined to make them,
rain or no rain.
Major was not eager to obey me,
but / scolded him sharply, and down
the track we went again. The clouds
seemed to be resting, and hurried
on. Back to the homo and then down
the stretch for the third time. Oh, If
! could only complete it-and IL John
would only oomel
We had almost gained the middle of
the last furrow when the storm broke.
There was whirl of dust and rain
and hail. while terrific crash OF
thunder shook the very prairie.
Major, frightened worse than !,
gave quick spring, and, swapping
the singletree, was off to his stable. /
tried to follow him, but could SEQ
nothing, and sank down upon the
freshly-turned earth, confident that
my last hour was at hand.
Scarcely had I done 80 when dark
form appeared at my side, two strong
arms lifted me from the ground and
carried me against the wind OF rapid
pace, while big bearded lips pressed
against my cheeks told me that 1t was
John who had rescued me from my
perilous situation.
The cabin creaked and trembled In
the storm, but l did not hear 1t. l
sat In my husbands arms and sobbed
out the story of my attempted task.
'But, darling, the mon must have
been mistaken" said John, interrupt
ing me.
'They-they said they had looked
on the records" still sobbing.
"They must be right" admitted
John. musingly; II remember now
that tho entry was made just six
months ago. meant to have seen to
it-but didn't, and it remained for
for you, little wife, to save tho claim.
But to think l was away off in Uoro-
nsdo--"
at Widow st. Clair's,"I put In
before thought, for l had not intend
cd to mention the nows l had heard
that day.
"Why, who told you" began John,
in hurt voice, while I hid my face on
his shoulder.
Did he suspect anything2 I do not
know to this day but he suddenly
wrapped me In his overcoat, which
was near and, opening the door, bore
me straight through tho heavily pour
ing rain to tho barn. He set me down,
and there before me was-the hand
somest phaeton I had ever seen, wh1le
q gentle-looking pony was new addi-
tion to tho stable list OF inmates
'For you, Tite," whispered John,
roverting to an old pet name of our
courtship days.
"How could you2" I asked wonder
ingly.
''It was this way, pet; the widow
wanted some earth hauled upon her
yard and would pay me in this rig,
but not In money. have been work.
ing every spare day to complete the
job. To-day I finished it,"
1t is not necessary to relate what
followed, but I am willing to admit
that I confessed every hard feeling
that had occupied my mind that day
and received full and free absolution
from my husband -confessor.
There was no more storm whom our
interview was over. The last cloud
had drifted away to the east, and the
prairie was q mass of sparkling pearls
cleaning In the sunlight.
John laughed little at the plowing
had done, but 1t passed muster at
the formal "proving up" Of our home
stead, and was content.
The prairies are moro thickly set.
tied now, and in an hours drive in my
phaeton l can visit q dozen rich farms,
but none is 30 prosperous as our own
nor is any family happier, for since
the day when l did my first and last
plowing not bitter thought has en-
tered either my own or Johns breast.
Detroit FREQ Press.