The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1918-07-18

happiness. She cOul0 set ner mousse III
order against her mans coming. And
IL the days dragged, and the great,
lone land seemed to close In and press
inexorably upon her, she would have
to be patient, very patient.
Jake was held up waiting for sup
plies. Fort George suffered n sugar
famine. Two days later the belated
freight arrived. He loaded his wagon,
ton Of goods for himself, like
weight of Hazels supplies and be-
longlngs. A goodly load, but he drove
out of Fort George with four strap
ping bays archlng their powerful
necks, and champing on the bit.
"Four days We will make 1t by der
ranch," Jake chuckled. INIT der mule
und Gretchen, der COW, Won week it
take me, init half der !oat."
-Four altogether pleasant and salts.
flying days they We're to Hazel. The
worst of the fly pests were vanished
for the season. A crisp touch of frost
sharpened the night winds. Indian
summer hung its mellow haze over the
land. The clean, pungent air that sift-
ed through the forests seemed dOubly
sweet after the yitiated atmosphere of
town. Fresh from a gridlrOn Of dusty
streets and stone pavements, and but
stepped, as one might say, from days
Of Imprisonment In the narrow con-
fines Of railway coach, she drank the
wlney air in hungry gulps, and joyed
in the soft yielding Of the turf be-
meath her feet, the fern and peavine
carpet Of the forest floor.
1t was her pleasure at night to sleep
as she and BIZ had slept, with her face
barred to the stars. She would draw
her bed a little aside from the camp
fire and from the low seclusion of a
thicket lie watching the nimble flames
at their merry dance, smiling lazily at
the grotesque shadows cast by Jake
and his frau as they moved about the
blaze. And she would wake In the
morning clear-headed, alert, grateful
for the pleasant woodland smells
arising wholesomely from the fecund
bosom Of the earth.
Lauer pulled up before his own cab
in Mt mid-afternoon Of the fourth day,
unloaded his own stuff, and drove to
his neighbor's with the rest.
"I'll walk back after little" Hazel
told him, when he had piled her goods
in one corner Of the kitchen.
The rattle of the wagon died away.
She was alone-at home. Her eyes
filed as she roved restlessly from
kitchen TO livlng-room and on into the
bedroom at the end. Bill had un-
packed. The rugs were down, the
books slowed In familiar disarray up
on their shelves, the bedding spread In
seml-disorder where he had last slept
and gone away without troubling to
smooth 1t out in housewifely fashion.
She came back to the llving-room
and seated herself In the big chair
She had expected TO be lonely, very
lonely. But she was not. Perhaps
that would come later. For the pres
ent It seemed as If she had reached
the end Of something, as If she were
very tired. and had gratefully come to
n welcome resting place. She turned
her gaze out the open door where the
forest fell away in vast undulations
to a range Of snow-capped mountains
purple in the autumn haze, and a verse
that Bill had once quoted came back
to her:
Oh. TO feel the wind grow strong
Where the trail leaps down.
could never learn the way
And wisdom of the town.
She blinked. The tOwn-lt seemed
to have grown remote, a fantasy in
which she had played a puppet part.
But she was home again. If only the
gladness of it endured strong enough
to carry her through whatever black
days might come to her there alone.
She would gladly have cooked her
ctnnnr in tho lftnbn,, and