The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1915-11-25

va the sky: Torn fro-.l the fair
"a throat Of Vivian MarStGn. it
lies in !; Hail box. with no
light to CLEAN upon ii and be rejected
back intensified. With letters ard
packages and newspapers folded tight
lies the diamond from the sky without
stamp to make it call Of any class.
Then comes the busy mail collector,
with his mail collecting car. There is
some excitement ut the Randolph man-
sion close by. Police whistles are
blowing and a laundering fight is going
on on the sidewalk.
But Bob Adams Is one of Uncle
Sans mail men. Way for the q. S.
mail, which has no time to stop for
police, police whistles or shindies on
the street. But it attracts his atten-
ton, as do some hurrying passersby.
and he opens the mail box and me-
chanically drags its contents into the
open nav Of the drawstring regula-
ton canvas mail bag. Into the sack
while Bob Adams, mail man, looks
with averted head toward the elegant
scrap" goes the mail from box 413, and
with it goes the diamond from the sky.
Bob Adams gets back from his col
Lection route to the postoff1ce an hour
later. His work Is through. and he
stops in to see his friend, the sergeant
at police headquarters, to lcGrn what
the row was all about that caused such
a commotion and evidently put crimp
In the swell ball given by that grande
dame of Richmond. Mrs Burton Ran
dolph.
Meanwhile on the sorting tables at
the postoffice the local collections are
being dumped from the mail bags The
clerk looses the drawstrings and holds
the bags up from their bottom corners
and shakes out the mail with deft and
practiced rapidity. On the floor the
empied mail bags pile. They see hard
service, and some are rent anu frayed.
The inspector comes on his rounds
and goes over the empties, marking
briskly with large piece Of chalk
Repair ON those that need mending
and renovation.
Out to the loading platform go for
the time being the condemned mail
bags and there all night they lay In
the arc light, with only the eye of the
night watchman upon them occasion
ally.
Dawn breaks at a small way station
forty miles from Richmond. Here The
freight train hats for orders, and here
Arthur, so cramped and sore that ev-
cry fiber Of his being aches, crawls
from his perilous perch and creeps
from under the car into the dusky day
light. Choked with dust, marked and
matted with grease and dirt, dishev-
eled and pitiful IN what was his mas
culine finery Of the night before, Ar
thur limps to a small pool Of water
between the tracks and IS not too
dainty to throw himself down beside
it and suck up its refreshing coolness
to his cracked lips and pached and
feverish throat.
The trainmen are busy with their
own concerns at water tank and tele-
graph station, far up the track and on
the other side of tie train Across
from him is a freight, going out on q
branch line The open door of freight
car seems to call him to its shelter
inc haven of escape. Arthur darts
acrcsS the track. realizing what ridic-
uious figure he must seem in his STAIN
ed and disheveled dress suit, mark
ed and battered silk hat still clamped
tightly On his head.
The outgoing freight Is gaining mo-
mentum as Arthur filings himself half