The Dupuyer acantha. [volume] (Dupuyer, Mont.) 1894-1904, 1896-07-16

SmOOtn ana leVel. L now STRUCK q roll
ing section, and the hills rose in con-
tinuous undulations. The roads were
rocky and grooved with winding gull
lies, describing the wash-outs of form
er rains. My progress was very labor
ious, and so frequent were the checks
and hindrances that when the fourth
hour had gone | had not made a foot
over five miles.
About this time, however. the coun-
try became ~leveler, and had a run of
five or six miles that did not occupy
more than half an hour. At the end of
this squirt the road suddenly forked,
and in the absence of a sign board I
was brought to an abrupt halt, not
having the slightest idea which prong
of the fork led to my goal.
| looked about. The only farm
house in sight was a quarter of a mile
to the left, across broken meadows
and a wind-swept corn field. l strain
ed my eyes up and down the three
highways, but not a human being was
to be seen. The two roads ahead,
which diverged at an angle of about
% degrees, We're equally travelled. The
n to the right seemd to turn off a
couple of miles away, while the other
was straight SO far as | could see.
l. wac lhI1lICu W tuhc tut ldtlels Dul
as l had no time to waste experiment.
ing. l decided to go to the farmhouse
and inquire which road led to Munger,
a small town twenty-five miles west
of Feeder Station. This I had ascer-
tanned by means of maps and inquiries
when first contemplating the trip.
Leaving my wheel in a fence corner,
half hidden by a clump of alder bushes
l struck across the fields in a trot. 1
found the farmer in his barnyard. and
after he had with difficulty subdued a
pair of savage bull dogs that wanted
to eat me without seasoning, l ELECTED
the information that the road to the
right led to Munger. Thanking him.
1 hurried back in a great sweat, warn
ed by my chronometer that / had lost
just twenty minutes, which might
change my destiny.
Arriving at the forks l was horri-
fed to find that my wheel was gone..
Casting a hasty look around | saw a
fellow mounted on it and riding for
dear life, about two hundred yards to
h westward! Without waiting to
swear accurately and smoothly. l
snatched my revolver from my pocket
and rushed madly after the thief,
shouting an agglomeration of threats,
~ oIohSh III III
abbreviated prayers. l fred a shot at
intervals, when | could do so without
perforating my legs. The fellow gave
a nervous look behind, lost his gravity,
and a minute later tool al awful head
er. Gathering himself up he aban-
doned the wheel. scaled the fence and
quickly disappeared in the adjoining
woods.
Arriving at the spot where he fell,
/ found the faithful safety still unin-
jured, and was soon on my way to
Munger. The road was level and !
made the run in twenty-five minutes.
| found Munger a gOod-sized town,
and got through it without any notable
adventure. Just before leaving it !
stopped at a restaurant and o o a
hasty lunch, including a goblet of hot
Scotch Feeling quite refreshed l re
sumed the road with rejuvenated
hopes.
1t was now 10 o'clock, and l a little
over twenty miles away" The coun
try Ia ~marvelously level, and the
roads excellent. | spurted the first tel
miles in about thirty minutes, but
began to feel alarm at the aspect of the
heavens. Heavy clouds were gather
ing and a storm was threatening. Ii
a quarter of an hour the big drops
began to fall. and presently the rail-
was pouring down, a veritable deluge
I went plunging on through mud anC
rivulet. half blinded by the rain, which
fine titful southeast wind blew into my
Eyes with pitiless fury. There wa
but one consoling thought-that TIT
storm had probably struck my riva
first, judging from it's direction. l fel
sure that Feeder Station was not V
five miles ahead, and pushed forward
with desperate energy.
The shower was as persistent as i
sent by an adverse fate. l think i
rained steadily for half an hour,
was as wet as a human fiotsmal
washed up by the sea" My whee
threw mud in a way that was dread
might have been taken-in Dingle
wood-for a winged hog,
At last, just as the rain began t
slacken, | caught sight of a churc
spire less than a mile ahead, an
knew that | was about to enter FeeC
er Station. My heart thumped wi
excitement ] thought of stopping som
place and arranging my toilet" br
instantly Abandoned the notion. 1t WI
no time for primping.
AS | entered the town | struck III
first street a right angles. and di
no know whether to turn to the rigl
or the left. | met a man and asko
him to locate Flight street the OF
y marked on Bessie's diagram-I la
q forgotten its relative positions II
citizen said he lived -four mile in Il
q kentry, but guessed Flight street w;
TO the left" | didn't hang ii secor
n around in the direction indicated. II
Is next crossing was supposed to !
Flight street, and BAssie's rcsiden'
was supposed TO be in the middle
o. the second block, north side. | reac
ed the spot, but the only building
that square was a red stable.
N thought of the cross and nearly fain
8 ed; but without permitting myself
indulge a base suspicion, l asked
street boy to direct me to Fig.
/ street. He pointed south and sal
"One block" | crossed over. I'll
II hardly reached the middle of The d
~ signated street when a mud beSpa
" tered man OIL Il wheel dashed up