The Wilmington daily Republican., 1901-11-01
geline did not think Of that.

first thought was that it must be
wolf or wildcat; il sounded lit.
tie like wildcat. Presently it came
again; it was very distant and very
faint, but her ears, trained to that
frequent sound of her day and gen
Grafton, recognized it. 1t was a hu.
man cry for help.
Angelin" did not stop to think what
a young girl all alone could do to
aid a man, possibly, even probably,
beset by wolves or, although that
was doubtful, by Indians. She raised
an answering cry in her clear young
voice, and set off at the top of her
speed.
From time to time she stopped and
listened for the feeble cry, which
sounded nearer and nearer; then she
sped on again. She ran as she had
never ran before. She was thankful
when she came to open spaces, where
she could take long slides over the
CLASSY snow. At last she saw ahead
something which made her heart
leap; a dark heap on the snow be.
side the bridle-path, huddled in the
strange and unmistakable huddle of
human helplessness.
Angeline wenNup to the man, who
was lying quite still and no longer
crying out for help. She bent over
him and turned his face, fearfully, up
toward the light. 1t was Joseph
Wyatt. He was emaciated and hag-
gard; his thin face was overspread
with wild stubble of beard; but she
knew him.
She caught him by the shoulders
and shook him with all her young
strength. She knew that if he Fay,
there motionless longer in the bitter
cold his fate was sealed.
Joseph! Joseph" she shrieked at
him. Joseph, don't you know me?',
Then she shook him again, and he
opened his poor eyes and looked uni
seeingly at her, and that was all.
Angcline looked at him in frenzy.
She did not know what to do. She
could not by herself carry him to
shelter, but if she left him there he
was lost. She shook him again. She
rubbed his hands violently, but all
with very little avail.
Finally she grew desperate. She
thought quickly. She remembered
that her father was at work not far,
from there, if she could cross the
woods instead Of following the path.
Stripping off her homespun blanket,
she bound it securely over the freez-
ing mans head and shoulders. Then
off came the thick wool skirt of her
gown, and that she fastened around
his feet.
Then she took hold OF two ends
of the blanket which she had left
loose at the top of his head, and start
ed, dragging him, picking the smooth
est way that she could, bending for
ward almost to the ground with the
strain, but never once giving up.
1t was well that Angeline came Of
sturdy ancestors, for she needed all
her strength that day. She often
stopped 20 examine the young man
and make sure that she was not in
juring him by that rough progress,
but the thick blanket protected him
we'll, and sometimes she broke off
branches of underground which were
In the way.
At last she heard the sound of herr
fathers ak and gave one cry: 20
father! father! father!"
Then she sank to the ground beside
Joseph Wyatt, for her strength was
gone.
She remembered only dimly after
ward what her father said and did
when he came running up and saw
her bareheaded, in her sack and quilt,
ed petticoat. She always had n vision:
Of him going homeward carrying on
his back the poor young man who had
escaped from the Canadian Indians
and found his way home through in
,redible hardships, and of herself
trailing weakly behind him.
She came to her full senses after
ward, when Joseph Wyatt was tucked
Up in the great feather bed in the
'ore-roorl. and his father and moth
n and Mary Ann, who looked ten
years younger since morning, were
lying back and forth with bowls Of
lot herb tea and warming-pans. and
such joy was in the house that it
seemed fairly to illuminate it even
lfter the evening shadows had fallen.
Mary Ann came and held Angeline's
mooth, brown head against her slen-
Ter shoulder and thanked her. "He
would have died if it hadn't been for
'ou, Angeline," she said.
"Yes, he would, and after all he had
'een through to get here!" said her
mother, tearfully. AS for Joseph
Watts father and mother, they
ould not make enough of Angelne;'
nut all the time, in the midst of her
elight and thankfulness that she
lad been able to save Joseph Wy
tits life, there was little, tiny, in
essant prick of her conscience.
When The house was quiet at last.
nd she was about to go to bed, she
vent to the old desk and got her
die Minute book. Then she looked
ubously at her mother and Mary
mn, this little maid who had never
een able to fit her feet quite COM
ortably into the narrow Puritan
rack of life.
II suppose I must put down at
east three hours of idle minutes"
he said Then Mary Ann, although
uch impetuosity was not usual in the
ousehold, had her sister in her
rms, kissing her wildly. Give me
he hook" she cried