The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1898-12-02

careful driver. He would have been a
careful driver If the load in the wagon
had been only cordwood. He avoided
ruts and stones as much as he could.
gave his half of the road with cheer
fulness in passing teams, and avoided
the crowded streets of towns. This
last he would have been forced to do by
the authorities, if he had not chosen
that course himself.
"Nitroglycerin" was painted in big
red letters on the sides of the wagon.
1t was amusing, sometimes, to see
farmers and transfers, WHO were shar
ing the road, crowd their teams into
the very fence corners, when their bulg-
ing eyes caught the meaning of those
ominous letters.
There amt anything in the world
like a load of nitroglycerin to make the
public polite" Springer had more than
once grimly remarked, and there were
many indications to show that he was
right.
About ten o'clock on the morning of
the third day out lobe stopped the
wagon sat the foot of the hill and dis
mounted. leaving Ida May perched on
the seat. A sparkling spring dubbed
up at the foot of the hill and over
flowed into stone basin. A gourd dip
per rested on the basins rim. Alto
gether, it was combination not 10 be
resisted by a thirsty man on warm
June morning.
There was a farmhouse at the top
of the hill, with stables and outbuild-
ings. and boy Harvesting young
horse in a shed. lobe had observed all
this as he passed by, and it had given
him homesick feeling. The house.
knee-deep in the grass of the yard,
looked so cool and inviting; and the
crooks of milk. on a bench on the back
porch, made him think of Ida Mays
mother, who had prided herself on her
skill as butter-maker.
The boy came through the gate with
the horse, and rooster crowed and bal
anced on the garden fence, as lobe
climbed down from the wagon seat and
walked toward the spring.
"Makes me think of the time when
was a boy going out to pillow in the long
corn rows down in the creek bottom, -
thought lobe, pushing his hat back
from his hot forehead. "a fellow can't
be a boy but once, though; never but
once!"
There were in his mind other pictures
of those unreturning days, as he knelt
on the rim of the stone basin, ignoring
the gourd dipper and drinking direct
from the bubbling spring, because that
was the way he used to drink from the
spring in the springhouse on the old
farm up in the Knox county hills, which
he had not seen for so many years.
lobe Springer had not enough mag
ination of the fearsome kind to make
him timid and nervous, but he had
enough sentiment to make him soft
hearted.
The boy rode the horse clatteringly
down the hill. He was coatless, mus
cular, round-faced country boy, going
out to furrow off some corn ground, in
the little square field beyond the or
chard, where the blackbirds were al
ready calling and quarreling over the
anticipated planting of the grain. The
swinging harness chains ''clinked" and
'clanked' about the horses legs; and
the boy, imbibing the spirit of June,
began to whistle.
That noisy, but not unmusical "clink,
clank, clinkety" Of the chains was a
new sound to the team hitched to the
nitroglycerin wagon. lobe Springer,
who had driven the team so long, would
have told you that it was not possible
to scare those horses. They were rec
ognized as the embodiment of sober
steadiness. For that reason they were
chosen for use in this work. The shrek
CT a railway whistle, the blare of a
shrill cry of flies and the ''rat,tat" of
campaign drums, had never moved
them; and as for the futtering of a
leaf or the wrinkling fight of bit of
paper across the road, they were quite
above paying attention to anything like
that.
Nevertheless, when lobe lifted him
self from the spring, with the water
dropping in a jeweled shower from his
grizzled mustache, he saw that the
steady old team was going to scare at
those cligking chains. The boy was not
dozen yards behind the wagon when
lobe looked up, and was unobservant
of the fact that stabbed into Tobe's
heart like lance of ice.
lobe dashed away the water that
chung to his mustache and ran toward
the horses. His heart came into his
mouth, as he saw the ears of the off
horse give nervous twitch, and he
cleared almost third of the distance
at bound.
'Whoa!" he cried. 'Whoa!"
But the command came too late.
The off-horse gave sidewise leap
away from that clinking sound push
ing it's mate sharply round, whirling
the wagon as if it moved on pivot;
and almost in the twinkling of an eye
the two horses were racing down the
road. dragging after them the wagon
with its awful load of explosives, and
lobe Springer's little daughter, Ida
May. in the bouncing seat.
AS the wagon was jerked round, the
boy saw those ominous letters on It's
side, "Nitroglycerin." Then he heard
Ida Mays frightened cry and saw lobe
Springer's face turn CHASTITY white.
whoa! whoa!" lobe painted, rush
ing in blind pursuit. "Whoa!"
The boys heart chilled, and for an in
slant h" pulled in on the bride rein
but only for an instant; though he