Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 January 1916 — AT THE OPEN BRIDGE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AT THE OPEN BRIDGE

By FLORENCE LILLIAN HENDERSON.

“I’ve made the mistake of my life!” announced Gerald Dyke. spat with Clio Barrett, I suppose?" intimated his close friend, Will Hampden. “Quite the reverse,” declared Dyker “There’s no more Clio Barrett for me. That dream is ended- It’s her father who has come upon the scene as the indignant and Immovable destroyer of my life's happiness!” Will Hampden looked interested and sympathetic. - ° “You see, I made a bad break in supporting our mutual friend, Dodd, for mayor. The progressive element felt that two terms for one man, even as good a man as Mr. Barrett, was enough. They put up Dodd. I electioneered for him, as you know, Will —one little speech.” “But Barrett carried the day.” “Yes, but by so small a majority that he feels piqued. Somehow he heard of my campaigning effort. That settled it. Just as Clio and I became engaged, he ordered me from the house —Clio in tears, myself in despair.” “What are you going to do about it?” Interrogated Hampden. “ T t’s what he will do. He’s an unforgiving, pig-headed man in his likes and dislikes. I’m blacklisted in his books and he’ll carry Clio away, or hide her away, but he’ll outwit me. She is practically under guard. I believe he has emissaries watching me. It’s taken me a week to get a note to Clio and a reply.’,’ "She’s true blue?” “Yes. but terribly despondent.” “Want my advice?" inquired Hampden deliberately. ■ "What la- it?" “Run away with her.” , Dyke had thought of that. So had Clio. He thought of it more than eVer as he started oft on a lonely meditative stroll. It was so easy, however, he realized. He was satisfied

that Mr. Barrett was keeping an eye on him. He knew that Clio was under the constant gaze of a trained chaperon. He had never yet passed the Barrett grounds but the gardener, or the steward, or the hostler was visible. A bridge swung by steam power spanned the broad Vermliiom river and the Barrett home was on the west side of the stream. From its center the Barrett home was in pretty clear view and Gerald had the doubtful consolation of posting himself there occasionally, to mournfully survey the spot where he had formerly been a welcome visitor. On this especial day he strolled to the bridge. His heart fluttered as he made out in the distance a white-robed form among the distant flower beds. He had just written a note to Clio. He took it out of his pocket wondering how he would get it to her. A hand touching his shojulder, he looked up with a start. “Excuse me,” said the bridgetendef, for it was he, “but I want to thank you.” “Oh yes—you are Fenton. Got the job, did you?" “Yes, sir, and your recommendation it was that did it.” Fenton, a rough and ready young fellow," had been sent by a friend to Gerald and he on account of his activity in the mayoralty campaign^had been able to exert some influence with the county board. Now, it seemed, his recommendation had borne fruit. “Glad you got placed,” said-Gerald heartily. “Yes, sir,” spoke the man humbly, “Will you exuse me if I say something?” > Gerald nodded agreeably. “Well, sir, I’ve, got eyes and I’ve been hearing things. You know this bridge appointment is county business, so the mayor has nothing to do with it. I was again the mayor: He’d fire me if he could. He hates me and I don’t like him. He’s treated you mean and that makes less Ifking between us. That pretty girl of his is a jewel, though. Say, could I venture to guess," pursued the shrewd fellow,” that you want a letter taken to the little miss? Oh, sir, you can trust me.” Now that was just what Gerald

dential talk with his new ally. He felt confidence in his protestation of fealty. He was surprised to find the man full of Clever suggestions, and when he left the bridge an hour later he was sure that the letter would reach Clio safely, and found himself the center of a deep laid exciting plot. “You see, the bridgetender had said,' “I run up to the Barrett place often. The steward is an old friend ot mine. I’ll see that little miss gets your letter. And, say, wfien you want to loiter around ’up there, drop into my watch house here and slip on some togs there that will disguise you like a high-class detective.” Thereafter for two evenings a slouching figure, suggesting some tramp wayfarer looking for free lunch and lodging, meandered by the Barrett home. On the first occasion Clio, in the garden, managed to slip a note over the fence. On the second she was near enough to the stroller to* catch the words: “Be on hand,” asp her pretty lips whispered the agreeable response: .“Every evening at this hour.” . .. So it was that those two had a pfetty thorough understanding of the situation, when, one evenlng just at dusk, Mr. Barrett drove up to the curb in his automobile. He was an active public officer and attentive to his duties, and was bound back for his office as soon as dinner was over. Mr. Barrett attended all fires, courts ; and public meetings so as to keep in touch with everything affecting the civic interest. He had a regular-alarm bell attached to his machine, its tones sb familiar to the general public that the people cleared the way promptly when its signal tones echoed out. What happened two minutes’ after Mr. Barrett had left the car, was that Gerald sprang into the vacated driver’s seat from behind a tree. At the same moment Clio squeezed her way through the hedge. Just as she got into the rear seat of the machine her father appeared unexpectedly. He had left a package of papers in the auto and had returned to secure them. Gerald with a leap sent the machine forward, disregarding the amazed and threatening shcuts of the infuriated mayor. By the time the bridge was reached, Mr. Barretthad rushed to the stables, secured a horse and was in hot pursuit of the fugitives. “Good!” shouted the bridgetender, as the machine whizzed past him and his keen wits took in fully the merits of the situation. Then he stared back the road and made oat the chief official of the town in the near distance. “This won’t do,” decided the bridgetender, and then —the instant the horse reached the end of the bridge the loyal friend of the lovers touched the lever and swung the bridge open. The mayor raved, the mayor scented complicity. In vain he menaced the bridgetender, who feigned the necessity of an oiling process in connection with the swinging apparatus. Clang! clang! clang! not knowing all that had happened behind him, and taking no risks, fearing that a telephone warning might head them off right Industriously Gerald plied the alarm bell on the auto. In five minutes there was a clear course. they were through the town and beyond it. “Regular wedding bells!” he chortledTgayly", as they shot down a smooth country road in the direction of the home of the nearest rural minister. (Copyright, 1916. by W. G. Chapman.)

They Were Through the Town and Beyond It.,