The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-06-22

and again 1 may not. Perhaps the
odds are shade on the wrong side,
but you give me just seven hours
that's three to go and four to come
back before you try anything else. If
you don't hear of me by that time you
may reckon I'VE got into trouble, coll
onel--but somehow l don't think it'll
come to that"
The old man put out his hand to me
in the dark, and gripped 1t hard. "It's
time / was going now" i added. Say
good-by for me to the ladies', colonel,
and expect me back soon after day
light"
/ gave his hand another shake, and
led my bicycle through the gateway.
keeping clear of the side where we had
piled the bodies, though / seemed to
myself to make out the heap in the
dark, and l pushed on to get past 1t.
The colonel followed me to the en-
trance, and stood under the heavy
shadow to see me off. l crept eau
tiously out into the grayer darkness,
and the last thing / heard was the
colonefs whispered farewell: Good d-by
Wen look for you in the morning"
1t was dark-the soft, mellow dark
ness of the tropical night. could see
the road that led up to the fort, like
a grayer belt stretching down the slope
before me, hedged in by the darker
shade of the overgrown wilderness on
each side. Would it be safe to mount?
Not yet, l thought as 1 looked anX-
iously around me. The slope, l felt sure,
was place of danger, because there if
anywhere, a watch was sure to be kept,
| and the slope might at any moment
bring me against the sky line from the
point of view of some watcher. 1 de-
| termined to wait till reached the bot
tom although / knew that l must by
| that means lose all the assistance
which the slope would have given me.
| / bent myself almost double as crept
on: / drew the bicycle towards me
| till it too seemed to creep along the
| ground.
The stiffness was intense. Not a
| breath of air seemed stirring, not a
sound rose up under the silent heaven.
l held my breath as 1 went, and yet the
beating of my heart made a sound
in my ears that seemed as loud as a
! drum. For the moment all my facul-
| ties seemed absorbed by that of hear
ing. On and on--a single step at a
time, with a pause after each, till at
| last l reached the bottom. | waited a
moment to listen. My fancy conjured
up dark figures everywhere 1 turned
my eyes, but there was not a sound
Should l mount now? Once more l de-
| cided against 1t. looked ahead and !
| could just make out the dim gray rib
bon of the path stretching up into the
darkness. l crouched and followed it
I had no idea it had been so long. I
could have sworn it had taken me an
hour to climb the slope down which ]
had seemed to myself to fly only two
or three hours before, but at last
had reached the top. 1 felt that / had
arrived at the most critical stage of my
journey. 1 must mount now, and for
anything I could tell my mounting
might be the signal for volley from
the guns of my unseen enemies with
a long breath 1 drew myself together
and gradually-inch by inch-raised
myself to my full height-still there
was not a sound. / looked around me:
l did my best to peer into the heavy
shadow that lay like a pail over the
scene. / could see but little. Behind
me the Irregular outline of the ruinous
fort stood out against the soft purple
| sky; on either side vague shadoWy
forms Knocked my efforts to pentratt
the darkness: in front the forest threw
a darker hade, and showed dim out.
line against the heaven. With one last
quick glance around me 1 mounted the
seat
Away! The moment I felt the acus.
toned sensation of the saddle and the
soft gliding motion of the wheel l felt
as If was myself again. Bending for.
ward, that I might keep to the din
path, threw my weight on the pedals
and they seemed to respond like living
things. Away! And in another minute