The citizen. [volume] (Berea, Ky.) 1899-1958, 1899-09-27

hurried along this; but before | covered a
mile the moon was obscured, and the wind
| dropped. 1t now began TO rain, and the
| darkness was 80 thick, that I could only
| just follow the road. Soon the track died
away into nothing, and found myself foun-
/ dering, over my ankles in mud, and up to
| the waist in wet rushes At any moment !
might strike a quicksand, with which these
marshes abound, so | used my sword as
search-pole, stepping only where | found
| foothold, a dozen inches or 80 below the
surface Of the bog. In this perpleXity, i'm.
| aglne my relief to see the blaze Of fire
shoot up beyond small rising ground before
me, and throw an arc of light into the dark
ness, against which the falling rain glittered
| like fine wires Of silver. | shouted aloud
and TO my JOY got an answer.
"Who is thereg What il the mattery"
"A traveller" | replied, who has lost his
way in this cursed swamp. Whoever you
are, you will make friend and find a re-
ward II you lead me out of this"
Come straight on, there is no danger be
yond getting your feet wet"
"They are that already" answered, and
pressed on, having absolutely To force my
way through the wet rushes, which wound
themselves around me impeding my progress
terribly. Moreover, so sticky was the slime
below that thought every moment 1t would
pull the boots off my feet Struggling in
this manner for a hundred yards or more,
guided by the fire, and an occasional shout
from my unknown friend, at last touched
hard ground, and with Thank hcayen"
got out of the swamp, and found myself at
the foot of the hillock, behind which the
fire was blazing.
(Which way to Bucne;" | called out.
Are you out of the swamp
Eyes"
"Then come round the shoulder Of the
hill to your right, and follow your nose.
You will find shelter here. Bucine YOU could
never reach tonight, and dog should not
be out in this weather"
True, friend" | muttered, and with a
loud thanks" 10 the apparently hospitable
unknown, | followed his directions, and,
rounding the hillock, saw before me- splut-
terIng in the rain, huge fire OF pine logs,
at the entrance TO a hut of the rudest de-
scripton. Inside, ! perceived a sitting fig
ure, over which the light from the fire alter
nately cast glare and then left il in dark
ness. ! made my way To the open door,
which hung back on hinges Of rope, and en-
tered without further ceremony.
"llumph' snorted my host, without NOV
ing from his position. II said it was no
night for a dog to be out. | did not say any
thing Of a wolf.
This change Of tone was not so surpris-
ing, for, dripping wet covered with mud,
and white with fatigue, my general appear
ance was but little calculated to reassure
anyone Yet, as | hung my cloak on
rough wooden peg which caught my eye,
could not help laughing in mockery Hs an
swered:
Wolves, friend, come To wolves lairs."
lie took no notice OF my remark: but,
pointing TO heap Of PUSHES opposite TO
him, said: "Sit down there" lie then rose,
and went toward the fire with an unlit torch
in his hand. This gave me some opportunity
Of observing him. saw he was Of spare,
but elastic figure. His head was bare, and
his white hair hung in matted locks over