Gulf Coast breeze. [volume] (Crawfordville, Fla.) 1897-19??, 1898-07-15

dark auu hlSn, before me. 30 Sllentiy
and unexpectedly did the huge, black
bulk confront me, like some monster
stretched across the road, that !
stopped involuntarily, my heart beat
ing thick aud fast. Then, as
strained my eyes to make out the ma
ture OF the obiectin my path, its black
outlines gradually resolved themselves
into the shape of o covered bridge,
raised high above the road on its stone
piers. With an exclamation Of JOY, I
dragged my wheel up the sharp pitch
of the roadbed aud ont OF the icy
water, into the welcome dryness and
shelter of that refuge in flooded
wilderness.
For two days the rain had been
pouring heavily and steadily down up
on that deep valley in the bsckwoods
Of Maine, through which lay the route
which I had chosen for my bicycle
tour. Thinking that the storm would
soon wear itself out, I had kept on my
way, penetrating deeper and deeper
into the wilderness. The road, in
spite of increasing mud, had proved
fair for wheeling, and not until the
afternoon Of the second day OF rain
did I encounter sufficient standing
water to make il necessary for me to
dismount and wade. 1 had not passed
house since early in the morning,
but kept hoping should yet chance
upon some isolated backwoods farm
ere the night fell. The valley kept
sinking in level, however, and 1 soon
realized that 1 must be approaching
its lowest point, where there would be
little likelihood OF finding habita-
ton. One always shrinks from turn
ing back, however, while there is a
possibility of going forward, 80 1 kept
on until 1 came to the bridge. There
was, at least, solid satisfaction in hsv-
ing a roof over my head and dry
boards under my feet, though the
doors of my house stood somewhat too
widely open to the chill night air for
perfect comfort.
However, I was disposed to make
the best of a situation which might,
surely, be worse, and leaning my
wheel against one OF the stringers OF
the bridge, sat down and proceeded,
first of all, to remove my soaked shoes
and stockings and replace the latter
with a dry pair from, my luggage bag.
When I had changed my shirt also,
and wrung about quart of water
from my coat, I felt so much better
hat 10 "a IL
pickle" said 1 to myself, "has the
elements of adventure in it; and BIZ
cycle trip lacks its chief charm if not
spiced with adventure"
Fortunately, I had the remnants OF
q lunch in my bag, and having de-
voured the cold bread and meat and
lit my pipe, I was still further disposed
to take philosophical view of the situa-
ton. I was, at least, sheltered for the
night, and might be able to snatch
some sleep by lying close to the string
ers of the bridge, ut its center, where
/ would be comparatively out of the
wind. AS soon as daylight came, /
could review the situation and make
up my mind whether to so forward or
turn back.
When my pipe was smoked out, I
took walk the whole length of the
bridge, using matches to light my way.
The structure proved to be only about
fifty feet long; an old fashioned cheap
ly constructed affair, such as one d.
most always finds in sparsely populated
sections, when it has become neces-
sary to bridge stream Of any size.
The river, now overlooking its banks
SO widely, was evidently. in ordinary
weather, quite narrow; though, drain
ing so large a section as II did, II was
doubtless deep and carried a large
volume OF water.
As I lay down to sleep, with my
head resting against one Of the trans.
verse stringers, heard the rain still
beating fiercely against the side of the
bridge; and, during my ftful slum-
bers. this was always the sound that