Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1909-12-03
At The Old
Swimming Hole

|
The conference at Conway had been
brief. The man from the city had
met the disabled master OF railways
and talked with him for a brief hour,
and then the eminent physician had
called a halt and ordered his patient
! back TO his bath and his bed.
The man from the city had virtual
" completed his work, however. He
was the sick mans successor, self-ap-
pointed, 1t is true, but with none to
contest his claim.
He was conscious when he shook
the old captain of industry by the
hand, that it might be for the last
time, and the feeling added an unac-
customed tenderness TO his parting
words.
The man from the city had antici-
pated a two days stay. He had used
but one. And then a sudden whim
seized him. The village where he
had spent his boyhood. the old home
he had never revisited was but twen-
ty miles away. 1t was not on the rail-
way line. but he could rent a convey
ance of some kind. perhaps an auto
mobile. Anyway, he had made up
his mind to see the village again.
1t was mild curiosity that prompt
ed him. He had no old friends to re-
ward. No grudges to settle. Yes,
there was one.
He felt a sudden wave OF bitterness
cross his mind. 1t was absurd, OF
course-the thing had happened so
long ago. But the anger was still
there-anger against the man who
had robbed him of Lucy Dalton's love.
He knew he had been robbed. He
had found it out when too late. John
Ingram had slandered him to the girl
and had brought up in his disfavor
cruel untruth. And Lucy had married
John Ingram and all the world had
grown dark and hollow for Jim
Atherton.
He laughed at himself for his ro-
mantle folly. and yet despite the
years that had elapsed those moments
Of anguish seemed very real.
He thought awhile. If he had
married Lucy Dalton he would have
settled down to Wlnsted and might to-
day he a plodding old rheumatic farm
er. AS il was. the loss OF the girl he
had loved had driven him from the
village to the great city and today his
was name that all men were forced
to respect and many men feared.
Yet, unworthy as the thought seem
ed to him, he felt that II would please
him to know that John Ingram had
rot prospered and he had keen de-
sire TO meet this false friend and re-
mind him of his perfdy.
Seeing poor old Barton has made
me sentimental" he growled. What
has jim Atherton to do with old home
and early loves? Just the same I'm
going over"
He stayed all night at the hotel and
after breakfast secured an automo-
bile to carry him across the ridge.
1t was a pleasant. ride. clear and
cool, and Jim Atherton enjoyed it in
his quiet way. He remembered walk
ing over the same road the day he
had turned his back forever on Win
sted. Yes, there vas the grist mill
where the farmer had given him
lift. How we'll he recalled the sleek
team OF Jogging horses. He was
| kind old man and had shown friend
, ~ interest in the adventurous boy.
Jim Atherton suddenly wished he
| could do something for the man who
had extended the first helping hand
| 10 him in his earliest venture, but no
doubt he had been dead many years.
Pretty country" said the chauf-
feur.
"Yes," his passenger agreed.
Ever this way be.ore?"
"Not for many years"
1T doesn't change" said the chauf-
feur.
A moment later they came within
sight OF a white steeple and q cluster
of houses nesting among the trees.
That's Winsted," said the chauf-
feur. Its too sound asleep to ever
wake up"
Jim Atherton looked around.
"You may let me off here" he said.
"Tll walk down the hill. I'm not go
ing back to Conway. I'll reach the
railway on the other side"
He pushed some bills into the chauf-
feur's hand and walked briskly down
the hill.
The chauffeur stared at the money
and then at the retreating figure.
who in blazes can the old chap
, be-" he muttered. He looked again
at the money. He's too good prop
osition for Conway to lose"
Then he regretfully turned the car
and started on the return journey.
Jim Atherton shifted the morning
air. II seemed to have a familiar
odor. There was something ozonic
about Il that put new life into his
cramped legs. 1t gave a fresh brisk
ness TO his gait.
Yes there was the old butternu'
grove where the farmer had caught
him and made him saw wood. he
. laughed aloud at his early discomfit
ure. And there was the old school
house-no, this was a newer building
But the maple trees were the same
and the noisy stream where he wen
fishing for sinners and bullheads was
still there. He could hear II brawl
ing along behind the bushes on th'
lower level.
A man was sitting on the top raj
of near by fence. He was a limI
looking man and his attitude suggest
ed an extreme degree OF comfort. III
was a man of perhaps 40, with pal'
blue eyes and struggling growth o
whiskers. Jim Atherton hailed thi
wayside figure.
Good morning." he said. as h'
paused and removing his hat let th
cool breeze lift his gray hair.
The pale blue eyes surveyed DIN
. ieisurely.
= 'Mornin'."
Zine weather"
Eyes. but We need rain"
Lived here long?"