Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1907-01-11


tionless, helpless, before this amazinR
apparition. 1t was Reskl who first un-
derstood; 1t was he who seized me by the
arm screaming in his excitement to run
to run down the way we had come.
And In my panic obeyed, flying wildly
towards the sharp bend in our rear.
had almost reached it when there came
thought to me that jostled out the re-
membranes of my own safety, turning
me back, with heaven knows what anx-
iety in my heart. Robert and Sir Hen
ry-could they be the travellers that came
galloping to almost certain death?
The runaways had but one chance
to hug the cliff, thereby giving space to
clear the turn without charging the low
wall that guarded the unknown depths
Of the gorge. But to my horror, / saw
that this was a chance our driver was
preventing, for it was he who had edged
his team against the cliff They would
have to pass him on the outer side.
L started up the road, shouting to him;
but as l did so, l saw Reski spring upon
the box. l heard cries of furious alter
cation, and then the driver was thrown
from his place. He dropped on hands
and knees; then rose and came running
past me round the bend
The whip cracked, and our team
swung across the road, drawing up on
the edge of the precipc, If the man
who drove the runaways were not struck
with terror, they had yet a hope of
safety.
They were not one hundred yards
away. l could see in the bright moon
light how the horses bounded forward,
the traces now slackening, now tighten
ing to the desperate plunges. Sevent,
yards-and the driver had gone mad. He
was waving his arms and shrieking, not
in terror, but rather in whoops of joyous
exultatiOn. 1t was a fearful thing to
see those gestures and to hear those wild
imprecations when death was so very
near. Another second, and they were in
the shadows, close upon us.
And Reski? l had almost forgotten
him. Stiff as a soldier upon duty he sat,
the reins tight in his hand, looking Meth
er to right nor left, waiting the fate that
might come to him. 1t was only thus
that he could hold his team in their
place-Only thus, at the risk of instant
humiliation. Did he dare this for the
simple love of his neighbor? Did instinct
tell him that they were indeed our
friends! God rest him, whether or no!
for by whatever rank men knew him, he
was a most honorable gentleman.
Like fash of light. striking through
1arkness, realized that the runaways
were still holding the outer edge of the
road that it must happen-that there
was no escape. And as l did so, there
came a crushing, rending shrek that fill
ed the whole air like the falling of
thunderbOlt. Dimly l saw the great
carriages collide, rebOund-and then but
one remained.
The spirit went out of me. l covered
my face with my hands, >crouching
against the cliff, praying to heaven that
at least the screaming of the horses might
soon be ended.
How long stayed there | do not
know, but l was reused by footsteps
passing before me. l started up with
a cry.
II beg your pardon, madam" said
well-knOwn voice. Cad if it isn't Mary
Weston -
1t was Sir Henry; but what was that
he carried in his arms?
who is itY' l asked, pointing.
ut is Robert" he answered gravely.
He has had a nasty tap ON his head
I'm afraid. If you will look to him, Miss
Mary, | will go back and shoot those
poor beasts of horses"
They found them next morning, living
close together at the foot of the preci
pice. They told me that their faces were
curious to see, for Marnac still grinned
with the vacancy of his insanity, and
Reski wore also happy smile, yet one
most different, for it was such as those
carry who die in a noble effort, covering
their memory with honor. For as Sir
Henry has explained, it was Reski who
saved their lives. They could never else
have cleared the bend of the road As it
was, when their leading horse jumped
the wall, his weight swung their carriage
round, striking the other on the side, SO
that while they were left, battered. on
the edge, with one horse dangling-until
the harness brOke-Resk his carriage
and his team, were hurled over the cliff
Marnac had already been flung to de-
struction at the first impact.
We learned in time the details of his
insane scheme. A heavy bride had won
the help of the Cornish loafer-though,
to be honest with him, the man had no
suspicion of the evil purpose to which
his kilograms would be placed From
poor Martha, love-lOrn and middle-aged,
he had gathered his news. 1t was Mar
nae who had sent the further kilograms
to Sir Henry, calculating well the time
at which they could arrive. He had
stayed at the village of Alvaneu, and
when the carriage passed it, had begged
lift as far as Bergun, a request grant
ed readily enough by their driver. The
poor fellSw had been struck on the head
at the entrance of the gorge, and so
thrown from his place. he had not been
seriously injured, and, indeed, was Of