Middletown transcript. [volume] (Middletown, Del.) 1868-current, 1918-08-17

happiness. She could set her house in
order against her mans coming. And
If 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 a sugar
famine. Two days later the belated
freight arrived. He loaded his wagon,
a ton Of goods for himself. q like
weight of Hazel's supplies and be-
longings. A goodly load. but he drove
out Of Fort George with four strap
ping bays arching their powerful
necks, and champing on the bit.
-Four days We will make it by der
ranch" Jake chuckled. INIT der mule
und Gretchen, der COW. Won week 1t
take me, NIT half der loaf"
Four altogether pleasant and salts
flying days they were 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 vitiated atmosphere OF
town. Fresh from a gridiron 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
whey 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.
It was her pleasure at night to sleep
as she and Bill 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 ninble 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 at mid-afternoon of the fourth day,
unloaded his own stuff, and drove to
his neighbor's with the rest.
"In 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
filled as she rOved restlessly from
kitchen to living-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
semi-disorder where he had last slept
and gone away without troubling to
smooth it out in housewifely fashion.
She came back to the living-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
a welcome resting place. She turned
her gaze out the open door where the
forest fell away in vast fluctuations
to a range of snow-capped mountains
purple in the autumn haze, and verse
that Bill had once quoted came back
to her:
Oh. to feel the wind grow strong
Where the trail leaps down.
I could never learn the way
And wisdom Of the town.
She blinked. The tOwn-it seemed
to have grown remote. fantasy In
which she had played puppet part
But she was home again. If only the
gladness of 1t endured strong enough
to carry her through whatever black
days might come to her there alone.
She would gladly have cooked her
supper in the kitchen fireplace, and
laid down to sleep under her own roof
It seemed the natural thing to do. But