The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1903-09-24

Thrusting the paper into his pocket,
Tom strode hurriedly down the sloppy
sidewalk, and in few minutes stood
before the large brick building which
contained President Johnson's Office. A
wave of indecision swept across his face
as he scraped the mud and snow from his
well-worn shoes. 1t was perilous un-
dertaking, and none knew the danger of
1t better than he. Then the recollection
Of his wife's bitter words returned with
full force, and he hesitated no longer.
Maggie is a good woman In most
things" he said to himself, and the blue
eyes glistened "and maybe I haven't
done by her what might For her sake
and the baby's I'll try It."
well, Tom, my man, you will under
take to cut the jam and save the mills?"
said President Johnson moment later,
as Tom, hat in hand, stood before his
desk. "Do you know that 1t is danger
GUS piece of work? There is probably
not another man in Altoona county who
would run the risk for twice the sum
named. Indeed, 1t was not so much with
the hope Of saving the mills as 1t was
formality to secure our insurance rights
that the reward was offered However,
II your mind is made up It is not my
place to dissuade you. II you are sue
cessful the money Is yours, and will add
another hundred from my own private
purse"
"And II anything happens to me, the
money will be paid to Mag-my wife?"
'Tf the jam is broken, yes"
William Johnson was a kind-hearted
man, and as he watched the big, childish
lumberman move toward the door sus-
picious film blurred his vision for a mo-
ment, and there was Just the least huski-
ness in his tones as he bade him God
speed.
"Poor fellow" he murmured, as he
turned to his work. 'Iife has not been all
smooth with him lately, and he is in
great measure responsible for his own
misfortunes, but | should greatly regret
| If any evil were to befall him at this
| work"
In the smaller of the two scantily fur
nished apartments that constituted their
| home, Margaret Harding busted herself
| In the preparation of dinner. Glancing
at the cracked porcelain clock on the
mantel, she quit her work for the twelfth
| time and going to the door, looked un-
! easily down the long, muddy street. It
| was deserted save for one solitary figure
that came bounding along as fast as his
short legs could carry him, regardless
alike of the slush of mud and snow be-
meath his feet and the gusts of wind and
rain which came near upsetting him at
intervals.
Say, you hearn?" he gasped. as he
dashed up to where Margaret stood.
What do you mean, Bobbie Carson? ?
Have heard what?"
about Tom. He's undertook to cut
the Jam above the mill, an mos ever
body says he'll be killed. Sposed you
knew about It," And swelling over the
importance of his message, the thought
less urchin galloped on his way.
For a minute or more Margaret stood
! looking blankly across the street
through the dashing rain. Every bitter
word she had uttered that morning
required to her mind in all its cruel
strength, and seemed to burn itself in on
her very soul in great red letters of fire.
The look. half of anger, half of sad re-
proach, with which he had turned from
hsr and kissed the baby sleeping quietly