Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1897-09-11
The Story Teller.
SAVED BY FIRE.
AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE.

AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE.
1t is many years since the events
that 1 am about to relate happened.
1t is the only instance, I think, during
a long career, in which my life was in
any great peril; an instance savoring
more of Providencial drama than actual
life, but thrilling enough while it last
ed to leave its mark upon the whole
of my days. 1t was case in which
1 owed my escape to an action so des-
perate as to warrant the idea that
quiet and peaceable citizens, when in
terfered with, are prone to be as dan
gerous as the most lawless of men.
was youngster of two-and-twenty
at the time, reading law in the office
of prominent attorney. My people
lived in Connecticut, and 1 had no
friends in New York, so that it was
quite a pleasant change for me when
old Fogson called me into his private
Office one morning, and informed me
that he had business of a private and
pressing nature, which necessitated
my travelling to Broxton at once.
"I want you to take this money to
Mr.. Warren's," said he, indicating a
pile of bank notes which lay upon the
table "count it,"
I wetted my finger and counted
through the notes, which were of all
values, from FIVE dollars to hundred.
Chow much ?" inquired the old
man.
"Thirteen hundred, sir" said I.
"Just so," be replied /; "from this
moment you are responsible for it.
Put the notes in that wallet, and don't
lose sight of them until you have
handed then over to Mr.. Warren in
person, and taken a receipt for them.
There's train leaves at 1890 which l
want you to CATCH"
went off blithely, wondering what
new extravaganza our erratic client
had been guilty of that he should
want the money in such haste, and in
such shape. l thrust the wallet into
my overcoat pocket-it was too large
to 60 into any other-and, arriving at
the station, took ticket for Hazelton,
the nearest station to the residence OF
Squire Warren.
We didn't travel very fast in those
days, and I was cramped and chilled
with sitting by the time / reached my
station. The landscape was gray and
indistinct with the damp discomfort OF
November day, as 1 stood on the
bleak, deserted little platform and
watched the train depart. expected
to find vehicle of some sort awaiting
me, but was disappointed, and after
standing and gazing around for few
seconds, l followed the station agent
as he was about to enter his Office, and
asked him the way to Hazelton.
"Hazelton," he repeated, slowly ;
ssit's a good IL miles from here."
~ suppose there's been nobody here
to meet me ?" suggested.
He shook his head.
II must hire conveyance of some
sort then," said I 3; "where can get
one ?"
The station agent meditated. "You
won't get anything of the kind about
here, sir" said he. eff you take my
advice, you'll put up here, and walk
over tomorrow. It's a clean place,
though it's small"
This would never do; my orders
were imperative.
"Is it an easy road ?" asked.
"The roads easy enough" was the
reply. You take that road leading up
to the hill there, for about two miles,
till you come to an empty cottage.
Go up the lane by the side of that,
and you'll strike the highroad. 4ou
might, perhaps, get wagon at she
'Cauliflower' there, but if not, it's as
straight as you can 60 after that"
thanked him, and buttoning up
my coat, passed through the Office,
which was warm and cheerful with a
huge fire, into the road beyond, and
commenced my journey. 1 was a
good walker, and, beside that, l had
made up my mind that / would be
able to get a vehicle of some sort at
the "CauliAower."
By the time I reached the cottage
indicated by the station agent, it was
pitch dark, and I had not met a soul.
The night was cold and raw, and
neither moon nor stars were visible.
By walking round the cottage I found
the lane, and then increased my speed, !,
with view of getting as fast as posi-
BILE to the inn, for the large sum OF
money in my pockets made me un-
easy.
In my eagerness, l must have crossed
the highroad without knowing it, for
by and by I found myself on broken
ground, apparently a ploughed field,
and becoming uneasy, tried to re-
trace my steps and get back to the
station. 1t was useless. I could not
see two yards in front of me, and at
length l abandoned the attempt, and
pushed on doggedly across the coun-
try, hoping every moment to find some
habitation. I walked for hours across
what l afterward found to be a large
strotch of nooorland and 7 WAS hepin.