The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1896-01-30
THE WHEEL OF FATE
The Old Tack Puncturiug Yarn in . FERN
Of Startling and Thrilling Romance.

Of Startling and Thrilling Romance.
I,
'Grammercy!" quoth Baron d'Agin-
court, as he rolled off his bicycle into
potato bed, "'tis full-mettled steedi
Methinks those varlets have fed him
with overmuch oil of late, SO restive
is he become. And, lack-a-day! My
doublet is besmirched with mirel Thou
smilest, see, Agatha. There is but
scant reason for merriment, shameless
grill"
"Nay," replied the beautiful Lady
Agatha, as with exquisite skill she rode
her dainty steed "a thoroughbred Cow
entry) up and down the terrace, twas
not at thy mishap, dear father! Of a
truth thou must be sorely bruised.
Was not that thy seventh fall this aft
ernoon? If smile, tits but that am
happy"
"Humph!" said the baron, as he
hoped painfully behind his machine,
vainly endeavoring to mount anew.
"Tappy, eh? And wherefore? Whom
hast thou seen to change thy mood SO
since this morning? Twas but a few
hours ago that thou vast weeping over
some trifle of split oil can. All, I am
up at last!"
81 have seen none," said the lovely
maiden, with blushing checklist "at
least, save only" She hesitated,
doubtfully.
"Whom, girl?" insisted her father.
''Sir Algernon Fitzclarence."
With a desperate swerve the baron
rode toward her, his face purple with
passion.
"What, thou hast chosen to disobey
me again? Talking with him whom
had forbidden to come within 20
leagues of my castle! Now, by st.
Humber, both thou and he shall rue
this day! I say that"
The baron's skill failed him once
more, and he was shot off into the
gooseberry bushes.
"Nay, hear me, dear father"
"Cease.." roared the angry baron.
"What no, there! Lead the Lady
Agatha" he commanded, as 20 men
rushed forward in answer to his sum-
mons, into the upper dungeon. And,
varlets, bring me the sticking plaster"
II.
Twas midnight. Alone in the dis
NAL cell to which her fathers cruelty
had consigned her Lady Agatha
wept increasingly. Sleep came not to
her weary eyes; she paced restlessly up
and down or gazed through the narrow
bars of the window over the moonlit
landscape.
Suddenly she started! Was it fancy?
Nay, twas human voice, manly, reso-
nant and strong, that sang beneath her
window. She could catch some of the
words:
90 sweetest blossom of the lea,
Odaintiest flower of the field!
For love. for hopeless love Of thee
My reason must her kingdom YIELD"
Good heavens! 1t was Algernon Fitz-
clarence!
Across the land, across the main,
single steed shall bear us twain"
He was ascending by ladder! His
face appeared at the window!
"Ah, darling Agatha" he said, ''news
was brought me of thy perilous state!
But dry thy tears, my sweet See"-
he snapped the massive bars with the
little finger of his left hand-"the cage
is broken. Two of the swiftest Singers
are saddled for us at the castle gate.
Let us fly together!"
Noiselessly the gallant steeds fitted
along the road.
"Were't not best to light our lamps?"
whispered Agatha. "Methinks that
the sage councillors of the parish"
"Nay, fear them not" said the in
trepid Fitzclarence. Enough for me
is the light of thine eyes,"
Suddenly their steeds slackened pace
simultaneously, and faint kissing
sound was heard. They looked at one
another and groaned.
"We are punctured!" cried Agatha.
1t was too true. At the foot of steep
hill they dismounted, their tires fabby,
shapeless, useless. Fitzclarence passed
his hand over the ground.
GAS thought" he said, bitterly, "'tis
thy father that hath contrived this!
He hath scattered tin tacks broadcast
over the road to foil our attempt to es-
cape! But we will battle him.
pumps in silence. Suddenly sound
was heard at which Agatha grew death
ly pale. IT was the clear resonant note
of bicycle bell!
eve are pursued" she cried. "Let
us fly, Algernon."
Eve cannot" said her practical lover,
"the tires are almost empty. We can
but meet our doom bravely!"
Louder and louder came the noise of
whirring wheels. Then-a whir, and
the baron. breathless, pale with terror,
went by them like a fash of lightning!
Fitzclarence understood in moment
what had happened. The baron was
but an unslkillful rider, and had allowed
his machine to run away with him
down the hill!
To stop him was impossible. He went
along the highway for 32A miles, and
then, with last despairing yell, he
vanished over the cliff, still seated on
his steed, and was buried beneath the
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