Ottumwa tri-weekly courier., 1912-08-17
EVENING STORY
OUT OF the NIGHT.
BY JEAN DICKERsoN.


Copyright, 1912, by Associated Lit
erary Press)
The flames whispered about the
dogs in the great fireplace and out
side Of the bungalow the trees lashed
to and fro In the strong wind. The
rain drummed steadily on the roof
without one break In the steady
downpour untfl Nancy tossed her
magazine aside and walked the floor
to steady her nerves.
She was all alone in this little
mountain lodge; all about her was
the primeval forest filled with num-
berless vague terrors of the night
Nancy was afraid. She had been
alone since 8 o'clock that afternoon
when her guest, Mrs. Carruthers. had
suddenly left for home in response
to a telegram brought through miles
OF dripping forest by a messenger
from Bidwell station.
Timothy Finn, the man Of all work,
had harnessed the horses to the buck
board and taken Mrs Carruthers to
the station. At the last moment.
Timothy's wife, Mary Finn, had
climbed In beside her husband, an
nouncing that she had dozen er.
and that she would be home with
Tim In time to prepare Miss Nancy's
dinner.
In the haste Of their departure
and the last hurried good-bys from
Mrs. Carruthers. Nancy did not
realize the significance OF being left
alone in that isolated spot
When the sound of the wagon
wheels had died away and there re-
NAMED only the rain and the wind
and the fire by the hearth she felt a
sudden pang of terror at the loneli-
ness.
The Films were addicted to drink
when opportunity offered, and Nancy
shuddered as she realized that 1t
might be hours before they returned
and they might not come home un-
til morning!
She had fastened every door and
window and had drawn the curtains
closely and pinned them at the edges
80 that no curious eye might discover
that she was alone
Hours passed. She tried to read but
the printed words held no meaning for
her. She opened the piano. but the
sound Of the instrument only intensi-
fed the stiffness
The clock In the corner chimed 10
and still there was no cessation of
the rain nor Of the lashing wind.
Nancy thought of her father down
in the close, hot city, and she knew
he was counting the days till Friday,
when he would run up to the lodge for
his weeks stay. Every other week
Simon Mead spent up here in the
mountains. There was usually Jolly
party Of young people here, too, chap
eroned by Mrs. Mead. but now she
had gone to the city with her husband
and Mrs. Carruthers and Nancy Mead
had been left alone for few days.
II don't care how intoxicated they
are II they will only come" declared
Nancy for the tenth time, as she
listened In vain for the sound of re-
turning wheels. II simply can't stay
here alone all night"
The clock strucy IL, and almost as
there followed the sound Of human
voice outside, q mans voice calling
for help.
Nancy shuddered. Perhaps 1t was
the Firms coming home She tip
toed up the stairs that ran to the half
story under the caves and pushed
aside small easement window. The
rain fell on her hair and face, but the
night air felt cool and refreshing.
There was no sound Of wheels, but
again came the mans voice:
Bungalow, ahoy! Help"
It was not the rich brogue OF Tim
othy Finn, nor was 1t the voice of 4
backwoodsman that called
| Nancy harkened to its call, shud-
dering at It's growing feeb1eness, not
daring to 60 forth In answer to It, for
she had from a child been afraid Of
the night with it's thousand terrors,
and this forest was maze to her
after sunset.
The voice sounded again; II was
from the lake. Some man had met
with an accident, and perhaps might
die unless she could 60 to his aid.
Then the voice became silent and
Nancy uttered little sob and dashed
down the stairs to the coat closet
She wrapped herself in large ulster
belonging to her father and let her
self out into the dripping night
She called once timidly, and the
wayfarer heard her and answered
with note OF hope in his voice.
Nancy made her way toward the
lake, now and then humping into
trees or stumbling over roots, for in
the pitch darkness she could not see
hands breath before her.
"Here!" sang the voice close at
hand, and Nancy floundered through
the wet leaves until she touched some
thing alive. Suppressing desire to
scream, she asked bravely:
What Is the matter
II believe I've broken my leg-I've
been lying here for several hours. l
saw the lights Of the bungalow, but
It was 80 quiet there was afraid It
was deserted. II you can call one Of
the men he might help me inside It
was a pleasant, refined voice with a
note of authority.
II will help you in,'' said Nancy
firmly and she bent down to assist
him.
He was big man, and heavy and
a y