The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1898-10-19

"Another day of it will fix him.
He'll have to give in"
But at the end of another day he
was still unconquered. 1t had grown
very dull and wearisome in the low
ceiled room, which had not so much
as a picture ON the wall to relieve its
dreariness. Billy took exercise by
pacing up and down in his blanket.
1t seemed to him more dignifed not
to handy words with his wife. So he
maintained a stately silence when she
demanded, as she brought in his
meals, "Ain't you about tired O. bein'
q fool, William?" which alarmed and
then nettled her. The heroine who
cried "Scissorsl" with her last breath
was woman after Eliza Barlow's own
heart. She never had abandoned a
position when she once had taken it
up, and this time a serious question
was involved, for, with his suddenly
developed strength of mind and pur-
pose, she did not doubt that if he es-
capped he would carry out his object of
enlisting. That he might be rejected
because he was what the neighbors
called "a little fetched" never oc-
Cured to her, and it seemed to her
that her only chance of saving him
and herself from repetition of those
terrible experiences of the sixties was
to keep him under lock and key until
the company had filled its ranks and
departed to join the distant army.
Mrs. Barlow shook her gray head
when she took away the scarcely
tasted supper tray on the evening of
the third day.
Poor old Billy was sitting listlessly
on the side of the bed a little later,
when he heard wagon drive into the
yard. Then the CHEEKY voice of his
brother-in-law foated in through the
open window, inquiring for him.
"He amt been able to get about
these few days. Been confined to his
room," explained his wife, with q
grim regard for the exact truth.
"I want to knowl Guess I'll run
in and see him. Rheumatic, is is?"
said the sympathetic inquirer
Mrs. Barlow's reply was inaudible.
Then Billy's quickened ears caught a
charmed word, and he listened breath
lessly,
II thought he'd get excited over
the war. Didn't know but he'd set
out to go. The company's about full.
They've got their orders and are ex-
pecting to march tomorrow morning.
Well, Imust be off,"
The wheels ratified away leaving the
prisoner in the spare room in desper-
alton. The time had come when he
must make bold dash for liberty if
he intended to follow the stars and
stripes TO the front, and the fog that
hung over his brain seemed to lift and
clear away for moment, leaving him
to consider plan as coolly and calmly
as he had ever done in his life.
That he would drop from the win
dow without being more than bruised
was probable, for the turf underneath
was soft and spongy. But the possi-
bility of making his way along the
road and down the village street in
the blanket, or even the fringed blue
and white counterpane of the best
bed, without being observed and ar
rested as an escaped lunatic, was dis
missed at once. He looked round the
room. A dungeon cell could not have
been barer. There was a closet
empty, for he had explored it care
fully in the tedious hours of his cap
tivity. Oh, no, not wholly empty, for
laid away in drawer with sprigs Of
lavender were his wife's Sunday
things.
Like flash he had them out. She
was large woman, and the black silk
skirt all but met round his waist, for
Billy had never succeeded in putting
on much flesh after his career in the
army. The spareroom pincushion
was we'll supplied, and if the belt
wouldn't fasten, the gathers could and
did, by means of many pins. Over
his shoulders went the came's hair
shawl, that sacred garment never be-
fore touched by hands profane, and
after little hesitation, he concluded
to add the bonnet, laughing at the re-
Election in the mirror as he perched it
on his head and tied the strings un-
der his chin, rough with the silver
stubble of a three days beard. An
embroidered veil depended from the
brim, and in this lay his safety, for
when he drew the capacious shawl
about him and kept his great boots
under the hem OF the skirt, he might
easily have been mistaken in the late
spring twilight for the figure that sat
on Sundays in the Barlow pew.
When his costume was complete he
went to the window and again sur
veyed the scene. All was clear. His
wife was in the kitchen at the other
side of the house. He let himself
slowly down and dropped to the
ground under the apple trees without
more serious damage than a three
cornered rent torn in his skirt, which
caught in the sill. In another minute
he was fastening along the turnpike
with giant strides towards the square
where the town hall reared its white
pillared front with the classic super
iority of q Parthenon. The recruit
ing bureau had closed for good and all
at six o'clock that day, but group of
the newly enlisted were gathered in
its neighborhood discussing the one
all-absorbing topic, conscious that the
events in which they were about to
take part were the making of history.
Excitement was in the air. The whole
village was charged with il.