Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1902-02-20

side, she looked about on all sides
like frightened deer. Thank God,
the corridor was empty, She
slipped across into her own room.
shut the door noiselessly behind her.
and stood still, breathing quickly
Then she CROPPED her way to the
sofa, crouched down in a corner Of
it, and burst into passion of tears;
but she was no longer afraid.
When a few minutes later she
heard, between the bowling of the
wind and the strokes of the ham
mers, the gathering hoofs Of a gal
Looping horse. she raised her head ard
clasped her hands. Maiberg came
back toward morning. He had not
found Leo, either at the station or at
any of the inns in the little watering
place near by. He must have gone
through the woods to another station
on the south side of the mountains.
Maiberg went to bed tired TO
death. Poor. foolish fellow" he
murmured. How can a man throw
away his happiness like that?"
CHAPTER XIII.
The storm was raging in the leaf
less beechwoods; it shook the tops
of the old trees till they bent and
creaked, occasionally flung a dead
bough to the ground, where it fell
with a crash among the underbrush
and howled and whistled through the
air in every imaginable key.
1t was the sort of weather when
the Harz say the Wild Huntsman
traverses his domain with his IN
canny crew, weather in which one
would not turn a dog from the door,
much less a man.
But the wild night seemi to have
no terrors for the man who, avoid
ing the travelled carriage road, was
the steep woodland path,
still covered with snow, which led
up from the valley where the iron
works were situated; and he seemed
to be perfectly acquainted with this
region. Up here the snow still
covered the ground, and the pale
moon shed a faint light over the
though now and then,
when the storm-driven clouds passed
over the moon, the woods were all |
blended together in one dark mass. |
But this did not last long, and then |
the black trunks Of the huge trees |
stood out all the more distinctly |
from the snowy background.
1t is not one of those spring nights |
when the hunter creeps out after the |
shy mountain cock; it is still winter |
up here and more like the nights |
when poachers Turk behind the great |
tree-trunks and spread out their |
snares for their prey. And there is |
plenty Of game here. When the |
forester in his little house on the
high plateau hears a shot, he mutters |
an oath in his pillows, and fancies
himself sending a bullet after the |
vile poachers, which will put an end |
to their midnight forays forever. |
For who else would be shooting at |
this time of night?
The man who had been walking on |
so rapidly stopped for moment and |
lifted his hat from his burning fore |
head.
1T would be the best thing
could dol" he muttered under his |
breath. His life was an utter failure |
n any case; he had been disappoint-
I'd in everything! He had failed in |
everything. Even the slightest faith |
:ulness and devotion, such as the |
most miserable woman feels for the |
companion of her life, had been
denied him.
She had sent him away! Where he
went was a matter of Indifference TO
oer. so long as lie went out of her |
sight! I
To be Continued.