Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1916-03-31

shrieking hoarsely that two women
were lost up there and that he was go
ing after them. As he ran. looking
up, something fell from the hidden
heavens and splashed upon his face.
1t stopped him in his tracks. Then
another fell and another, big. plash-
ing drops that struck him like stones
in their portent. They thickened
swiftly, beating up the light ashes in
tiny puffs. and from the gathered men,
busy with roll-call and accounting,
there came first astounded exclama-
tions and then. as the drops gathered
Roadway. mighty cheer that rent the
covered skies, even as a heavy clap of
thunder shook the hills
THE rains!" they cried. the rains!
The first rains!"
And it was even so. Nature took
a hand and sent Destiny skulking
from the havoc of her carnival. The
plashings turned to a downpOur.
Among the mountains the effect was
indescribable. The thing that took place
was too big for man to grasp. 1t was
greater than the fires had been alone
Long sheets of water fell athwart
the world. slanting from some tilted
sea OF the infinite. They dashed in
among the canyons. played along the
ridges, dashed slope and ledge and val
ley. The smoke was beaten to the
earth in a blanket that spread over a
hundred miles and more. 1t writhed
and twisted and was lost in the clouds
of steam that fed. kissing, high above
the hills. The gods played with the
Coast country Daily turned his face
away from any man and the general
went to the little south room in the
cook-shack for unaccustomed prayer.
The world turned blue with rain as
it had been white with smoke.
And the pygmies. men, who had
fought so long and failed, tossed their
blackened hands in triumph and shout,
ed with the last OF their voices.
For an hour, two it rained, until
the black spikes on the devasted
slopes were blotted out.
IT'S mighty unusual. a rains hard S
this-specially the first rains" said a
man from Toledo, earnestly Don't
ever remember ones hard. D'you,
Bill?" And Bill didn't.
Presently, in the second hour of the
downpour, strange procession doomed
out of the gray-blue sheets, startling
the men who were out in it. too glad
to shirk it's worst, standing like ducks
in the ashmud.
1t was the long, shining body of a
giant dog, still Juggling at the relns
tied to his collar, dripping black
horse, tired to the point of falling and
woman who sat fastened to the can.
tie with strips of broadcloath, and
whose face was not good to look upon.
1t bore upon its features the brand of
too much horror.
They focked around her with cheers
and eager hands. and questions that
tumbled over each other But John
Daily thrust them all aside to seize
her wrist and demand word of Sandry
and Siletz
They're - up behind - the Hog
Back" she shuddered as she spoke
that name. I'VE found Hampden-set-
ting the-fires-with candles"
Here there were awed mutterings
"He-shot that-Preacher. He said
the East Belt deed--was recorded
all right-but that-he owned the
recorder"
She seemed duly bent on straight
ening out some tangle. "Sandry is-a
man-despite all. Get Hampden-ii
he's alive. No, | don't mean-that
He-sent me down. The horse was
near done" AS she slid down into
Daily's arms she said with her last
ounce of strength but with such com
manding spirit that he knew she was
in deadly earnest. Get me-a convey
ance-at once. want to be in Toledo
for the-night train-out."
Thus it came, that, as night closed
down blue with rain over the tortured
country, two things of import to the
fortunes of the Dillingworth and its
owner were taking place. Poppy Ord
way stood on the platform of the
dreary station at the lost little towr
on the backwater, bound for the out
side world and the far cities.
At the same moment yet one more
| procession was coming slowly dowr
! from among the peaks, line of men
a long line, for weary as they were
| dozens had followed the foreman into
the wrecked, mud-deep forest-whC
bore tenderly among them two sings
1t was a significant fact that scat
tered along that scarecrow line wa!
every man of Sandrys old crews who
had gone over to Hampden
In one sling there swung gently the
still figure Of the Preacher, it's Bool
upon its breast, its martial flute beside
it, its glimmerings of the Past for
gotten, its wistful searchings ended.
In the other lay Sandry, his righ
hand clasping two small dark ones
whose owner trudged faithfully beside
him refusing all offers of assistance.
| holv NV WAS in hic baort bic lin,