Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1913-10-16

AAOii the SlltnJ DdNlu. Ills tJco hcN-
err wandered from the read ahead,
and the girl seated beside him studied
the tense lines Of his face. and also
lapsed into silence, for this was
man Of whom she knew nothing.
Scanning the heavens, she saw
huge bank of clouds, looming threat
eningly in the southwest. 1t ad-
vanced rapidly like a conquering
army, totally obscuring sun and blue
sky, while the girl, watching its prog
ress, shivered and touched the mans
arm. "Look, David, heavy storm is
comingl Had we better go back ?"
The man turned, for the first time,
regarding her face. you're not
afraid, are you? 1t won't amount to
much" But in contradiction to his
statement, the rain descended in
deluge that forced them to seek
shelter beneath a tree.
There's log cabin halfway up
the mountain; we must ride there"
He unhitched the horses, tied the
wagon securely to a tree, and assist
ed her to mount. Through the al
most binding rain and the wind,
that retarded their progress, they
wound their way steadily up the
mountainside, and finally reached
the cabin.
They found the cupboard we'll
stocked with canned goods, and dried
fish, and the wood pile in the fire
place ready for the lighting. The
girl sank YEARLY into a chair while
the man prepared the meal. She ate
little and talked Less, and David, mo-
ticing her WEAKNESS, suggested that
she retire in the other room, while he
kept watch outside. All night long
she heard the steady downpour on
the roof, and in the morning, David,
going out in search of wood, came
back with the report that the bridge
over the creek had collapsed.
"That means that we must re-
main here indefinitely" she asked.
'T'm afraid it Does" he answered.
Then the girls courage vanished,
and she wept. Manlike, he fled out
into the rain in search of dry under
brush for the fire. Three hours later
he re-entered the cabin walking as if
in great pain.
whats wrong, David?" she de-
manded.
'I've sprained my ankle and feel
sick"
She assisted him to the bunk, heat
ed water and applied hot bandages
to the swollen ankle.
He crimsoned as he regarded her.
"You oughtn't to do this for me"
he said.
''Be quiet and go to sleep, if you
can" she answered, arranging the
covers to make him more comfort
able. His utter helplessness awoke
a tender sympathy within her, and
while preparing the evening meal she
returned frequently to the bunk,
ministering some little attention to
relieve the pain. His eyes followed
her adoringly as she tidied the room,
giving it those Enthusiastically fem
mime touches that make even a hut
in the woods habitable. Afterward
she took book of poems from her
and read until he fell
asleep.
The next morning found the rain
undated, but the pain in David's
ankle was less severe. He began to
plan for their departure, saying that
they could follow the trail over the
and down the other side,
where she could take the train for
New England, continuing: 81 know
this has been a dreadful experience
for YOU, for I've been no end of trou-
Bile, but you must know how sorry I
am"
TO his surprise she took his great
hand gently between her own, say
ing: 81 do not intend to return east
that is-if you want me to stay,
David" and the man reverently
pressed her hands to his lips.-Buf-
falo Express.