The West Virginian. [volume] (Fairmont, W. Va.) 1914-1974, 1917-08-24
THE DAILY
SHORT STORY
IN A FOG.
~ MARTHA M'cULLocH MILLEE

~ MARTHA McULLocH MILLER
coprtght 1917, by the Mcclure
Newspaper syndicate)
,1ILLARD sighted relief as the
crossroads signpost doomed thru
wv fog. He was lost in a strange
tnd, one made weird, even spectral
.oy thick white yapors. The eartn was
dark and slippery and dead leaves IN
4he autumn woods on either side gave
otit 4 pugent, penetrating, almost over
nowefinz smell. He had loved its as he
ri out that morning for a day'long
tramp. II he had been weatherwtae he
would have stayed at the log tavern
notwithstanding its rough fare and
iack Of comfort. The wind had blown
"a lanquid signing gasps with interval
al dead clam-dawn had been a red
lower dogs had barked scrid discomfort
ana all the Spsrce poultry Of the tavern
had been noisy and restless, as were
the ragged yearlingS mules on the COM
MN fronting the house, and the star
ling calves armoured in cocklebuFs'
Wing about a weedy orchard
nFallin' weather shore as shootin'-
but / reckon ye be neither sugar ner
salt," the landlord had said with a glum
face, yet half smiling, as he took pay
for his entertainment. Willard had
been glad to get away-so glad 1t amaz'
ed him now that he could revert long
inEly to the heaped log FIRE, the bread
a pounded eornmeal, the buttermilk
and fried bacon that had made his sup
per and breakfast. The early miles
had been deliclously vagrant-he had
walked as the woods invited him, not
troubling himself to think Of his com
pass so long as he kept the wind IN
his face. Then suddenly all things had
! blurred round about him-he had found
!. With blank dismay that his compass
was missing, fallen from his pocket
doubtless as be stopped to look close at
some sylvan mosaic Of red and russell
and sold.yellow, with dash OF Velvet
green moss showing through. Color
was his passIon-it had brought him
here to range the hill country in III
autumn splendors. Viewing these col
ors he had slghted-with despairing
happiness. Art could not catch nor re
neat them-they were so far beyond it
But for them he was storing up memor
les that might turn up to gold later on
His designs, henceforh, should have
q primitive simplicity, joined to har
monies in mu.ti.color." IF they did moi
bring him fame-money he lad already
they might at least help to teach the
backward a way to great doing. There
would lie for him sufficient reward
Rapt in such thought the fog had seen
I'd at first no more than an inconvenien
ce. Hours OF It, bringing him to thu
edge Of shutdown, hours of aimless ant
weary wandering, made him feel it nov
a menace.
He reered up at the crossarms. Once
they had been lettered boldly. In cleal
daylight the lettering might still bt
legibile. He felt for matches, struck
one-it flickered out. When he sought
another his case proved to be empty
He would not be able to smoke thu
cherished last cigar much less to kindlC
fire. Swearing under his breath h'
again looked at the guide.boards. Al
be looked he heard rapil hoof beats
then q girls voice vainly crying, hush
edly yet anxiously; "Are you there
/ was afraid! Say something. Quitl
~ have fell lost this last hour"
81 am here all right enough, Willard
began. The voice interrupted joyous