The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-10-19
lacks Ride to Milly
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tended to sleep in the BUSH which in such !
weather man might do without danger or
a Colts revolver at the back of his belt be
meath the red silk sash, and fossicking
knife beside it. Disposed about the saddle
were ak, hobbies and bell for his nag
and fodder also; a frying-pan TO fry his
chops in, packet of tea and a tin pam
nikin. In his breast pocket were his cut
ty pipe, couple of cakes of cavendish and
couple of boxes of matches. Some other
trifes also, such as gold watch and chain
for Milly and bracelet for Milly and two
or three specimens from the golden reef
for Milly, and-yes, a wedding-ring for Mil
ly; and all these trifies were nested in soft
white wool, as such trifies should be. And
there was something more precious than
all these-Milly's portrait in a case, which
he took out don't know how many times
an hour to look at and kiss.
so he rode on, happy man If ever man
was. and on the first day he did his forty
i've miles, put the hobbies on his horse and
the bell round her neck, having first taken
fSer mare t she was asst creek sft IN T Then
he let her loose. Ponto had ambled along
at his side the whole of the day in great
his of fb 5hs outing and n0W having
stretched out, watching his master frying
ms ms chops OYER the camp hre be, He knew
tnat ne would nave his share. AFTER sup
per Jack and Ponto had a chat, and Jack
showed his dog Milly's picture, and asked
him what he thought of it, and 1 daresay
talked lot of nonsense, to which Ponto
had not the slightest objection. Then the
two drew away from the camp fire and
slept beneath glorious panoply OF stars.
l need not tell you who played the princi-
pal part in Jacks dreams. Pontos dreams
l know nothing whatever about.
They were all on the road again early
on the morning of the second day, which
was much more enjoyable than the first, for
was not Jack drawing nearer and nearer
to Milly? And visions of the future rose
before him, and he sang to the trees of
silver bark. 1t was terribly hot.
about a hundred and twenty in the
shade, Ponto, said Jack. and Ponto waggled
his great tail, as much as to say: What
does that matter? We're getting nearer and
nearer to Milly."
I think / ought to say a word about
Pontos collar. 1t was a new collar, and on
Milly-only her Christian name, mind. And
beneath the name the words, in very small
letters. 'Will you?" Rather enigmatical, is
Ii not?
When night fell the second forty-five
miles were done, and they supped and slept
as on the first night, and rose on the third
morning-that Is. Jack did-not a bit the
worse for the blazing sun, which seemed to
| promise something even more scorching
| than on the previous two days.
Before he went to sleep on this second
night Jack discovered that he had made a
| miscalculation as to the commissariat The
| food that he thought would have been suf-
| ficient for three days was enough only for
| two. and on the third morning they had
| short commons at breakfast. This did not
| trouble him much. for he had but forty
miles to go before things would be set right.
| He knew the road pretty well, though the
| greater part of it lay through the bush,
! chiefly cattle tracks A little way on the
road he met a shepherd who, hearing
| whittier he was bound, informed him that
| by taking a sheep track which lay off the
wider tracks over which he had travelled he
| could save a good eight miles He accepted
! the information gleefully. Eight miles saved!
| That meant an hour nearer to his dear Milly.
| The shepherd pointed out the narrow track
and gave him directions, and they babe
each good-day. Off he set on the shorter
route. and cantered gently on, followed
contentedly by Ponto. His thoughts were
on the dear girl he hoped to wed and this
probably and perhaps some over-confidence
| in himself, made him more careless than
| he should have been. At about II o'clock
| he suddenly became aware that he had
| lost the track that had been pointed out
| TO him and that the woods through which
| he was riding had become thicker. Dis
| mounting, he looked keenly I'm every di-
| rection for the track, but could not find ii.
| The forest in which he found himself was
| trackless. He had no fear, however, his
| compass would guide him. Putting his
hand into his pocket for 1T he found that
| 1T was gone He remembered taking it out
| last night and he supposed he must have
put it on the ground and forgotten to take
| ii up again. Very careless of him, but
| he did not doubt that he would soon light
| upon the track again. Mounting his horse
he proceeded at walking pace, bending
| over the saddle and examining every inch
| of the ground with keen and anxious eyes
! The annoyance was that it would be late
| before reaching Milly. And there she was
| looking out for him. Too bad to keep her
waiting, and piece Of real hard luck for
| himself.
No trace of the track met his gaze and,
| indeed he soon had the sense to acknowledge
| that no shepherd would drive his sheep
| through such forest of trees. Thicker
and thicker they grew, silverbark, IRON
| bark, gum, in thousands of thousands upon
1 thousands. could w re-
heat-laden clouds that lay like the spell Of
doom above them No sign there to guide
| whether he was vending north, SOUTH east
| or west Then he tried to retrace the way
he had come. but he only, grew more be-
| wildered. He was trapped in a trackless
| forest. To the right or to the left, back
| ward or forward. 1T was all the same. Dis
mounting again he marked with his knife
some OF the trees so that he might recognize
| them If i'm his efforts to escape he came
| upon them, and then turned in the opposite
| direction. But to go straight through the
| labyrinth was impossible and soon he could
| not determine whether he going in an
| opposite direction, and an hour afterward
he was COMPOUNDED by coming upon the
| travelling in a circle. He looked at his
watch. 1t was noon. And Milly was wait
ing for him!
| In all this immense forest there was not a
bird, and there was no sound or movement
| except that of his feet crunching the parched
| leaves with which the earth was thickly
| lue 80 weighed upon MIN
| that he started singing, but soon broke
down. The sense of impending calamity stole
upon him. There were many records of
men, trapped as he was trapped, whose
whitening bones, discovered after weeks or
months had elapsed, denoted the agonizing
fate that had befallen them. But away
with those forebodings! A nice kind of cour-
age to show when Mlly was waiting fol
him.
Horses have more sense than men, "
thought he, and he mounted into the saddle
and sat there with idle hands The horse
took a few steps, then stopped dead. "Car
you do anything Ponto?" he asked. The dos
looked up with mournful eyes
| But Jack went on and on, praying for q
sign. None came. His watch marked
o'clock-2 o'clock-3 o'clock He led his
horse now, this way and that anC
looked, and listened. and prayed But the
horrible monotony of these myriad trees wa:
maddening. and he kept closing his eyes Il
shut out the view. He had not q drop OF
water to drink, and he could find no creek
or water-cOurse TO afford relief His hors,
-Miliy'S horse-noSed every inch of grounC
for moisture. Ponto's tongue was hanginf
no twilight Suddenly darkness fell upor
Good heavens!'' he groaned. "AIilly II
waiting for me!'
He threw himself upon the cracklin,
leaves, and, happily or unhappily the mer
! cy of forgetfulness was granted TO him
i think he courted Ii, hoping that slee]
, would strengthen him.
When he awoke in the morning he wa
| seized with despair His horse was gone
Ponto was gone And the white, blindin,