The evening times., 1896-01-12

The wpte.ss wege slowly away. Tb,
afternoon had been close and oppressive
and towards cSea4nga storm had come and
| gone. Now and again sheet of lightnin,
made the dark like day; but towards mid
| night, to our chagrin, the occasional beacon
| disappeared, and the clouds hung heavy
close and low.
was repeated, and, in spite of myself, / fel
J my nerves twitch es the midnight hou
! passed. We kept up our marches in turn
AT about quarter past twelve somcthin,
| grazedmy check, and ra isetimy ha nd hastil
TO ward it off.n5 felt sure, e,fTom its soft feel
that it had only been the wing of a nigh
moth 5ehssheif Dennis returned to my sid,
minute afterwards, Inentioned this littl'
| Incident. Tne orderly felt the tension of ou
anxious watch as much as did.
1T may have been moth and it ma y ha V,
been-n4he= began then- stopped
Been what. Dennis?'' demanded.
II don't know, he answered thought.
| fully. Perhaps you'll think it queer
| idea of mine to ask ye the favor, sor
| but have yesahpy objection to tyin' this
end of thread about your left wrist? The
other end is tied to mine, and I've meas
ured the length; the thread is about
| taut when were ten PAGES apart. The
| night is as black as a black goat; if one
of us was 10 disappear suddin like. tother
I'D know it in n rats whisper of time.
A miDit-ay, or a quarter of one-may be
vallible to the one that's taken. It's worth
while, sor. if We don't mind; the thread
won't take up much roorn.'
More to satisfy the. mans whim than
for any other reason, l did as he asked.
The time went slower still after that; for,
with our ears strained to catch the slight.
est sound, we did not converse.
1t came to be my turn to walk from
where Dennis stood. Reaching the allotted
distance of ten PAGES. / stood still a
moment. and made 4 survey as well as
could. Nothing was visible in the small
field of vision which was to be had from
there. Stay. Was there something you-
der little darker than the night? No:
it was my fancy; my imagination was rum
ming riot.
"At that moment 1 felt a slight pull on the
thread about my-wEiSt;Sthen, feeling with
my right hand. l found the thread was
broken. A. yard-of IT Or SO hung down.
Still there was that extra ordinary silence.
/ ran instantly to where had left Dennis
a minute before. 1t seemed impossible
incredible: the man was gone.
Ishouted, DeaRis! Dennisr' but no answer
came-not the faintest sound of one.
raised my carbine' and fired into the air,
with the object of rousing the camp. No
sound followed as l touched the trigger.
j struck one of my remaining matches, and
saw, to my dismay. that the cartridge had
been withdrawn, .4ss $500
1 wiped the beads OF perspiration from
my forehead with the Back of my hand:
then ran forward, still calling Dg--calling out
the orderly's name. Not sound ensucd;
the world might have sheep dead etcrnally.
found the place where Dennis had stood,
going back to do SO. Again I struck
another match and looked for the mans
trail. The way he had marched was to be
seen. but nothing else. / followed ii, hut
it ended in 4 sandy mass OF untrodden SOIL
! went back 10 the starting place. 1t was
plain there were signs neither of man nor
beast having passed there. forward or
backward. Without losing further time
went on ahead as straight as 1 c0uiops
Fifteen PAGES in front I stumbled over
something. i laid an eager hand upon it.
1t was the orderlx,s carbine. flung my
own away and pulled the trigger of the
other. There was no sound. Treaohery in
camp as well as out l thought, as again,
went forward. had no ammunition at
all; for, after finding my own carbine
empty, had opened my pouch to take