The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1896-06-04
A FRUSTRATED SCOOP.
By ERNEST STRIVES.

Intensity upon the limestone pike that
served Harrington for a principal street.
The air was close and sultry, and the
only respite to suffering humanity came
in the shape of an occasional pine-laden
breeze that stole down from the tall
sentinel mountains beneath which the
tiny town nestled.
Not that there was much humanity
around to suffer, for though it was
mid-week, the big, boisterous engines
in the tannery on the hill were silent,
and the canning factory's gates were
closed. Even the village store was de-
serted by all save solitary clerk, who
hadn't made a sale since early morning.
There was granger picnic over at
Slawson's Corners, and most of the pop
ulation were attending it.
Carrie Lumsden, a summer boarder
from the neighboring city of Jones'
vile, was one of the few stay at-homes.
Having firmly resisted the pressing in
vitation of her hostess, Mrs. johnson,
TO make one of the family party, she was
now doing in hammock on Farmer
Johnson's piazza.
The young woman had come down
from Jonesville about three weeks be-
fore on an absolute quiet" prescrip-
ton. The doctor, in enjoining her to
get away from everything" had par
ticularly specified newspapers, for it
was over-zeal in the service of one of
Jonesyille's morning journals that was
responsible for Miss Lumsden's break
down. One of the most rapid and eff
fective workers on the Photograph staff
she had, for two years, supported her
self and her invalid mother, working
early and late, without a thought of rest
or the slightest attention to the repeat
ed warnings of her overtaxed nerves.
Finally these became so pointed and
peremptory as to be no longer diSre
garded. Pure air, simple food, and per-
feet rest had wrought wonders. The
girl slept like a top, and her eye was as
bright and her step as springy as ever.
She felt equal to producing any amount
of copy" and was thinking of return
ing to work again ere she became lazy.
She made a pretty picture as she lay
there, trying to settle whether to get
fully awake and resume her book, or
yield TO the prevailing drowsiness and
fall sound asleep. She was saved the
trouble OF decision by the sudden APP
pcarance of old Quarles, the Johnson
man-of-all-work, who rushed into the
yard, we'll blown by the unwonted cXer-
ton of moving slightly faster than
walk, and crying in his strident tones:
"Oh, Miss Carrie, suthin' dreadful's
happened! Old Steve Arnold down to
the toll gates killed Miss Arnold with
the ak an hung hisself. Gus Robbins
less found 'em. He's overt the store.
What kin we do? Squire Jacksons at
the picnic, an there amt nobody TO
take no action"
Instantly the hitherto languid young
woman was all activity and interest.
She was out of the hammock and down
the steps in jiffy. Here was an OPP
rortunity to atone for month of idle
ness.
"WelI, that's terrible, isn't it? |
suppose there's nothing to do, though,
Quares, but wait till the squire comes
bdch. utIl lie IL hOINl an llliuSSls
There'll be plenty of time for that"
The newspaper girl scented posi-
BILE SCOOP" and didn't wish the matter
stirred up too much.
She tossed on her sailor" and accom-
panied the old man over to the store,
where Robbins, lank, yelIow-haired,
and exceedingly shy young man, was
telling his story for the sixth time. He
was considerably embarrassed when the
tall, graceful, bright-eyed girl appeared
and made him give his vivid recital all
over again. 1t was much shorter this
time, though, for she skillfully but
charmingly headed off all Pathological
and superfuous statement In five min
Utes she had him pumped dry, and then,
piloted by the young man and old
Quarles, Miss Lumsden started on foo;
for the scene of the tragedy, about
mile distant, filled with ardor, but not
without a modicum of feminine repug-
nance to the gruesomeness of the mat
ter in hand. Doing murderers and sui
cdes had not been her line, but she
shranll from nothing that fate threw in
the path of duty.
BY half-past six o'clock she had her
etory finished, and then, for the first
time, began to consider how she was 60
ing to get her matter to the Photograph
Office. Thirtyfive miles of Indifferent
road and two big mountains lay be-
tween Harrington and Jonesville.
There was no telegraph or telephone,
and the mail carrier, on his picturesque
gray mare, had left on his daily trip
hours before. All of Farmer Johnson's
horses were at the picnic.
The perplexed journalist consulted
with Quarles and sent him out to re-
connoiter. He returned with the cheer
fui news that the only horses in the vii
lage were Crosbys old gray, that
couldn't make the journey in a week,
and Turner's colt that nobody could
ride or drive. Slawson's was Is miles
away, and the earliest picnicker was
not to be looked for before ten o'clock
The trip to Jonesvillc would take fresh
horse four hours at least.
Still Miss Lurlsden kept her nerve.
That cODV must he rotton tn JoneSvill,,