Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1903-01-17

For an hour after the dozen pupils
which the thinly populated district
furnished had gone to their homes,
Miss Blanchard sat at the west win
dow of the little white schoolhouse
watching the evening sunlight SHIN
mering upon the nodding prairie
grass that stretched like yellow sea
for miles and miles
it was d-September. For a month
not a drop of moisture had fallen. In
the road that wound, a dull, gray
streak, across the plain, the dust was
ankle deep. Verdure was sere, and
lifeless, and dry The Sky was cloud
less; the suns heat almost intolerable-
But Miss Blanchard's thoughts were
not of the parched, glittering land
scape nor yet of her school duties
They were of John Mallory.
She could not remember when she
had not loved John Mallory. All their
young lives they had been sweethearts.
But at last they had quarreled-and
parted in anger.
While she still considered that he
had been unjust to her. and her eyes
snapped Indignantly at the recollection
of his harsh words, she could not dull
the keen edge of regret; the dazzling
brightness of the sunshine could not
dissipate the shadow-the deep, dark
some shadow-that seemed to wrap her
in its mantle.
With a sigh she turned from the
window and her glance rested upon
the telephone back of her desk. Dear.
thoughtful John, 1t was he who had
ordered the telephone placed in the
schoolhouse
There are SO many tramps in the
country he had said to her. If they
bother you, little woman, or if you are
ever in need of help. ring me up"
Her heart had thrilled with affection
at the time, but now She tossed
her head proudly. "I do not need his
assistance she said; Il am quite
capable of taking care of myself, 1
think"
Again she turned to gaze across the
monotonous fields, and became con-
scious of a peculiar haze that seemed
to fill the air with increasing density
With never a thought but that much
needed shower was not far distant, she
watched it in idle curiosity, but pres
emily, with sudden foreboding, she no.
ticed that heavy clouds of vapor occa-
sionally rolled over the building, borne
westward. And then, through the
open window there drifted a strong,
familiar odor-the odor of smoke.
Hurrying to the door, she pushed it
open and cast one apprehensive glance
to the eastward, then shrank back ap-
palled. The prairie was afirei
Across the eastern horizon was a
1ivid wall of flame, whose red tongues
seemed reaching to the very portals of
heaven. The long, parched blades of
grass, dry as tinder, were food most
tempting to the ravenous element.
The wind had increased to a gale and
already a shower of sparks was falling
within a few rods of the schoolhouse.
The nearest residence, a mile away,
was towards the east, from which the
fire was rapidly approaching. To the
westward twice that distance must be
traversed before she could reach a
habitation. She knew the plowed
fields, surrounding the dwellings, in
sured safety to the buildings, but she
could not hope to reach any of them in
advance of this scarlet agent of de-
struction. Yet certain death awaited
her if she remained, for the school
house was without protection of any
nature.
An agony of thoughts crowded her
brain and in a frenzy Of fear she
tAlnEhhlf fhnG,h,