Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1914-01-16
sHIvERED THE RECORD
ONE CONSOLATION LEFT TO VIC
e TIMED PEDESTRIAN.
Effort Cost Him Much, However, and
1t Was Without Great Pleasure
That He Learned He Had Been
"FooIed, B'Gosh."

1t was typical old-fashioned coun-
try store The real native that goes
| with such place was seated on
cracker box, clad in the old-time care
less country style. Another of the
same vintage was engaging him-let
| us call him Gray Whiskers-in a heat
ed argument on election. The second
man in the course of his remarks
said she was nigh onto eighty years
old" referring with pride to his war
record. (He was mustered out at
Readville.)
What time does the next train
leave here for Boston " briskly in
quired the writer.
ooh, about two hours or more they'll
be one,'' said Gray Whiskers.
The writer lost some of his brisk
manner and expressed discomfort and
few other things.
At this point the veteran volun-
teered the information that train
stopped at Sharon Junction in an
hour and the writer might walk there
and wait for it.
"Holy smoke" howled the writer,
you expect me to walk four miles in
an hour? Couldn't do it,"
Huh, four mile s nothin'; I've
walked it in three-quarters of an hour
an I'm eighty years DID," boasted the
veteran.
Eyes, an / seen him do it and I'll
bet We he kin do it again." butted in
Gray Whiskers.
Well, various remarks were passed
and the writer offered to cover all
bets, but there was nothing doing 1t
was two o'clock sharp when the writer
left for the long journey down the
track; the train was due at Sharon
Heights about three or little after
Il wonder if that old rube could
make it," he pondered as he skipped
the ties. There's Edward Payson
Weston, he was an old has-been. l
reckon I'll try to make little record
myself"
The day was fairly cool; little
of the sun lent. it's rays to warm the
scene. The sky was blue and walk
ing fairly good. One mile post after
another flashed by. Feverishly the
writer gazed at his watch; he was we'll
Inside the limit The last mile post
was dancing toward him, but what
difference in the atmosphere. He was
stifled with the heat. Hat in hand
and coat over arm he sped onward as
if the devils were at his heels.
At last the journey was ended. He
fell into chair at the station and
looked at his watch once more. The
veterans record was smashed to
atoms, done in 35 minutes, and the
station agent there to prove it. He
would hand it to those rubes. The
fact that his collar was a shapeless
pulp and his clothes wringing wet with
the strenuous effort was nothing. The
record was broken. That was enough.
A few weeks passed and the Incl
dent was forgotten. Lately, however,
the writer had occasion to visit Fox
boro again. He went to the general
store and sought Gray Whiskers and
the veteran. The proprietor was the
only one present. Triumphantly the
writerGold how speedily he had cov-
cred those four miles.
The proprietor blew out a wreath
Of smoke; "an' you took any stock in
the talk of those two fellers? Why,
they never walked more than 100
yards from this here store in years."
he said. can that old veteran he's
all bunged up with rheumatism.
guess We were fooled b'gosh."
The writer took look at the time
table; he had an hour to wait, but
he took Gray Whiskers' place on the
cracker box and did not try to break
any more records.