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

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Il YH scended, something
"a suddenly doomed,
dark aud high, before me. SO silently
and unexpectedly did the huge, black
bulk confront me, like some monster
stretched across the road, that L
stopped involuntarily, my heart beat
ing thick and fast. Then, as I
strained my eyes to make out the ma
ture OF the obiectin my path, its black
outlines gradually resolved themselves
into the shape OF q covered bridge,
raised high above the road on its stone
piers. With an exclamation of Joy, [
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 backwoods
Of Maine, through which lay the route
which / 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
dismoun. and wade. had not passed
o house since early in the morning,
bat kept hoping 1 should yet chance
upon some isolated backwoods farm
ere the night fell. The valley kept
sinking in level, however, and l soon
realized that must he approaching
its lowest point, where there wouldbe
little likelihood Of finding habita-
ton. One always shrinks from turn
ing back, however, while there is q
possibility of going forward, so kept
on until came to the bridge. There
was, at least, solid satisfaction in hav-
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, l 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 / had changed my shirt also,
and wrung about q quart of water
from my coat, L felt so much better
that I began to whistle. every
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
lunch in my bag, and having de-
youred the cold bread and meat aid
lit my pipe, Twas still further disposed
to take philosophical view OF the situa-
ton. was, ut least, sheltered for the
night, and might be able to snatch
some sleep by lying close to the string
ers OF the bridge, at its center, where
would be comparatively out of the
wind. As soon as daylight came, I
could review the situation and make
up my mind whether TO go forward or
turn back.
When my pipe was smoked out, I
took q walk the whole length OF the
bridge, using matches TO light my way
The structure proved 10 be only about
fifty feet long; an old fashioned cheap
ly constructed affair. such rs one al
most always finds in sparsely populated
sections, when it has become neces.
sary to bridge stream OF any size.
The river, now overAowing it's banks
SO widely, was evidently. in ordinary
weather, quite narrow; though, drain
ting so large a section as 1t did, It was
doubtless deep and carried large
volume OF water.
As lay down to sleep, with my
head resting against one Of the trims
verse stringers, heard the rain still
beating fercely against the side Of the
bridge; and, during my ftful slum-
bers. this was always the sound that