The Washington times., 1912-10-23
DAILY
THE CRICKET OF LEEDS sz essz 4yse5y s1 % nsoH

toward the recedins wessel. but II con-
tinued on its course, and nc was con-
fdent that his action had been unob-
served.
For the nrst time since he had las
pressed his lips to the cold brow and
lifeless hands OF his sister Rylance felt
rs IL he was escaping from the thrail
Of a nightmare.
The light OF his destiny seemed to
minsle with the light or the stars thai {
were reflected In the nigthy tide Of the
great river through which he was slow
y forging his way. The shore-line
less and less indistinct. and the spirits
OF peace, and new effort seemed to be
beckoning to him from spruce-grove
and orchard. =
ping waves on the shore. One Of his
knees came In violent contact with q
rock. With the pain there came to him
sense OF thankfulneas. His feet felt
for the bottom. but he found he was
still IN deep water. and with vigorous
strokes he moved on. A few moments
later he again tested the depth. His
feet touched bottom now, and he stood
erect
Before him was small cliff. topped
by cluster OF evergreens that extend
ed down the slope at its side.
He waded ashore slowly, and at last,
clear Of the river. stood upon a little
strip of sand and looked around him.
the top OF the cliff was a small field in
which garden truck was growing. Be-
yond this. about an eighth OF a mile
from where he stood. were the darL
cliff like that near which he had land
ed. As he had approached the shore
he had seen that on the other side OF
/. this house was cove with a village on
it's shores.
He had taken only few steps when
he came to a narrow path which. ow-
| ing to the fact that his feet were bare
| afforded a welcome relief from the
| stony surface he had begun to traverse
Following this, he found It led 70 and
| until, near the top. he came upon q
small, rude. unpainted shed.
The door was partly open; and as HI
several feet into the side of the hill. !,
| was about ten feet square, and by the
| moonlight that entered through tn.
paneiess window he saw that 1t had
| In one corner stood a battered frame
that might at one time have held q
| grindstone. Just inside the door leaned
| several old rakes and hoes. and against
of old boards and posts with rust,
nails still protruding from them. ovei
| everything lay a thick coating OF dust
Continuing his inspection OF the plac'
1 th5 IupituVe round unuer some piecei
| of old harness a horse blanket, so stiff
and incrusted with dust that he hac
difficulty In opening It.
"It viii do for tonight. fancy" h,
sighed. "a bath in the river tomorrow
| will make me right again."
With a lighter heart than he ha,
known for several weeks, he left tn,
shanty and descended the hill, to, tn
field. Here, finding a large cabbag
patch, he pulled up one Of the cab
bages. and with this he returned to hi
| hut. ".
From the pockets of his overalls h
drew forth the only objects that he pos
sessed in all the world--the channels
skin bag containing the gold piece
kirkwood had given him. his" yictori
Cross. a peari-handled pocket-knife. an,
a razor. These he wrapped in a piec
Of newspaper. he found in the place. an
then thrust the little bundle into al
opening among the boards on which h
| was going to pass the night.
He next removed his shirt and over
alls, the only garments he wore. Thes
he took outside. and after wrinsin
them well he spread them out on 7th
grass, placing stones upon them to kee