The Press., 1909-01-27
A Thread In the Wool.
 By WALLACE SNOW. Copyrighted, 1908, by Associated
 Literary Press.
By WALLACE SNOW.

when he and Gambietta took to the road and travelled through this section the nickels and dimes and quarters fell into Pietro's old felt hat in most alluring stream.
 But this year the weather had been for the most part rainy, and somehow Gambietta seemingly had lost his knack of coaxing coins from stubborn pockets.
 What few pleasant days there had been had proved far from profitable, for the dimes and nickels and quar- ters were conspicuous by their ab- sence, and Pietro and Gambietta must both eat, fair weather or dull.
 In vain did they plod the dusty highways; in vain whenever they could find a possible audience did Gambietta do his cumbersome tricks.
 Waltz, turn somersaults, die, go lame, wrestle with Pietro as he would, but a few scattered pennies had lodged in the old felt hat Bankruptcy, grim and ghastly, stared them in the face.
 Moreover, Gambietta was growing painfully thin, even as if he had but recently come from one of his long maps of hibernation, and Pietro was beginning to learn all too frequently that a handful of berries gathered from the roadside made a most unsat- isfactory repast.
 They plodded up the long hill slope, the man shuf1ing along with his shoul- ders stopped and his head bent and the bear following along at the end of his chain, his head rolling from side to side and his scuh1ing feet sending up choking clouds of dust that set him to wheezing and coughing in miserable fashion.
 They were nearing the top of the hill when a wagon with portly, well fed man on the seat drew up beside them. The we'll fed man glared at them in undisguised contempt.
 "Hey, you dago," he called, what yer doin' with that bear here on the highway? Don't you know there's a regulation against it in this town2 Scares hosses, it does! Take him through the woods or the fields, but keep off the roads-you hear"
 Pietro pulled off the old felt hat and bowed respectfully. Then as best he could in broken English, plentifully interspersed with Etruscan dialect, he tried to make 1t plain that neither he nor Gambietta would willingly or knowingly transgress the law. But the man in the wagon understood no word of the servile harangue.
 'None of your lip, nOw," he inter- rupted irritably, at the same time pulling open his coat to display tin star. "Tm a deputy sheriff, I am. You and that bear keep off the roads or I'll run you both in. See!'
 He waved his arm meaningly to- ward a little wooded path that led from the highway to the left and sat in his wagon watching the sorry pair until they had turned into it and were lost to view in its shady depths.
 Beneath a giant oak tree that stood beside the little path Pietro sat down miserably, his head in his hands and great despair in his tired eyes.
 Gambietta collapsed beside him, rolled about luxuriously for a mo- ment, then turned on his side and went cdlmIy to sleep.
 Pietro sat there for a time, a prey to his bitter musing. Then he, too, stretched himself beside Gambietta's rusty brown bulk and fell into trou- bled slumber
 Now, 1t happened that the path-a winding wood road-which the two had chosen, or, rather, which the we'll fed man had chosen for them, as a re- treat led to cascade, where a little stream fell over a series of granite ledges.
 It was one of the beauty spots of the vicinity, a place much frequented by the summer people who came to the little town.
 Even as Pietro and Gambietta slept in the shadows of the oak a smart trap came slowly down the winding road from the cascade.
 In the trap were a stern faced young man and an unsmiling young woman. And it took no very great intellect to see that everything was not entirely pleasant between them.
 Indeed, they had fallen into silence that bitter silence which is harder to endure than threats or recriminationS or open censure. For some time they drove along, the beauties of the shaded wood road lost to their eyes.
 The man finally broke the silence. Perhaps it would be better if got out and walked" he suggested grimly.
 Perhaps 1t would," said the girl, and, refining In the horse. she watched him climb down from the trap, after which she licked the cob with the whip, and the trap sped down the road.
 The man stuffed his hands into his pockets, grunted something inarticu- was a pleasant looking young man. The frown that furrowed his forehead seemed sadly out of place.
 But there was something about the mouth which said he had will of hts own and somewhat more than his share of stubborn pride.
 Presently. by way of soothing his overwrcught nerves. he pulled from his pocket a well worn brier pipe and began to fill it from his tobacco pouch.
 But scarcely was the task completed when from ahead there arose sud- den cOmmotlon, a cracking of under brush, jabbering of Etruscan dialect. a half smothered feminine scream sounded through the stiffness.
 The young man pricked up his ears, and as the scream sounded once more he dropped the pipe and tore down the path at pace that had won him rec OrdS on fho C.indor nath
 Around a bend in the path he sped, and there before him he saw a fran tically plunging horse, an Etruscan wringing his hand and jabbering help lessly, while badly frightened bear crawled through the underbrush with many whoofs of genuine alarm.
 The young man jumped for the bit, caught it and chung on desperately. The horse, thoroughly frightened, snorted and plunged and acted gener-