Jasper County Democrat, Volume 9, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 May 1906 — “An III Wind” [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

“An III Wind”

By HONORE WILLSIE

Except for a solitary berth far down the aisle Wilton had the Pullman to himself. In sheer loneliness he had turned In early and lay staring at the stars and Hitting telegraph poles hour after hour. His month of vacation at the old home had been a disappointment. The Texan ranch would be good, he thought. His foreman would be glad to see him, and so would bis puppy, and yet, after all, there was no one who really cared. “Hang it,” he murmured as he tossed back into the net his coat which a sudden slewing of the train had thrown violently into his face. “Hang it, I wonder why on earth Betty Allis had to take December, of all months, for a pleasure trip west—the one mouth out of five years that might .have given me a chance to see her and know her again. I«wond”— There was sudden darkness. Wilton found himself groveling on the car floor. There was the maddening sense of the helplessness with which in a nightmare one tights for breath and space. With fearful momentum, with grinding,, tearing and upheaving, tire car roiled halfway to its side, seemed to slide down and down, then, with a violent shock, stood still. The ghastly silence that succeeded was as appalling us the uproar had l>een. Wilton lay still for a moment, waiting for he knew not what. Then he crawled to his feet, gathered his clothes from the opposite section and rapidly dress«*d himself. “Wonder what's happened,” he thought breathlessly. “Gee, smell that gas!” And he started toward the rear of the ear. As his hand touched the stateroom wall at the end of the aisle a girl’s voice rang through the car, “Porter, porter, I wish you would come help me out.” Wilton stopped. “Gad, she’s cool, anyhow.” he thought as he listened for the porter’s response. None came. The odor of gas was filling the car. He

leaped to the opposite window and ' kicked out a paue, lettiug in a flood of j cold air. Then as quickly as its angle j would |>ermit he dashed down the aisle to the other berth. ' “Let me help you, madam.” he said. “The porter has deserted us.” “I seem to be iu a sort of well, my berth is so tilted,” answered the girl. “If you could just lend me a hand.” In a moment a girlish form was standing beside him. “Are we killed?” she asked, her voice trembling a little la spite of its brave toue. “Not yet," answered Wilton, “but we’d better get out at once. The gas tanks are leaking.” • Together they groped down the aisle to find a brakeman forcing his way into the wreckage at the end of the car. “Any one hurt in here?” he asked, flashing his lantern iu their faces. “The porter didn’t stop to see.” “All safe,” answered Wilton. “What’s the trouble?” “Open switch. Banged Into coal chute. Engineer and tireman killed. Lot of coach passengers hurt. You are the only Pullmans. Better get out of this.” And he led the way up to the steep embankment down which the train had plunged, then trotted off down the track, leaving them alone lieside the tangle of trucks ami rails that marked the path of the wreck. Wilton picked up a forgotten lantern and for the first time turned to look at the girl whom he had rescued. Then he gave a great gasp of astonishment. “Betty Allis! Where on earth!” “Jack Wilton! Where”— The two stood silent In a hearty hand grasp. Suddenly Jack fell to trembling, and for a moment a panjc® seized him. “Betty Allis,” he repeated, “to think that some one that I knew and—that I knew was in this catastrophe and so near death! It makes me—it makes me”— Here Betty broke the tension with a trembling little laugh that was none the less merry. “But we are both safe and sound, so what’s to worry us? Let’s find out where we both came from and”— Then suddenly she became sober. “First, let’s go see If we can be of any use

town there." And she glanced beyond Wilton, where flitting lanterns and a confusion of voices marked the place of real catastrophe. Together they hurried down the tracks, to And that all that could be done was being done for the sufferers and that now all that was possible was to wait for the wrecking train. Wilton drew Betty away from the crowd. “We can’t help,” he said, “and you are shivering with the cold. I’m going hack to get your coat and my traps and yours. Then we will make a ramp here on the bank.” A few minutes later found them toasting before a brisk little fire that Wilton had kindled, while over in the east low streamers of pink silhouetted the dull outlines of a mining village. “Shall we try to find shelter in the town?” asked Wilton. “Oh, no,” answered Betty. “Let’s wait here." Wilton spread his hands contentedly to the flames, while he stared so intently at the girl opposite that her eyes wavered. Yes, it was the same Betty of five years before—yet not the same Betty, She of five years before had been a child of eighteen. The woman of twenty-three before him was the fulfillment of all the earlier promises of loveliness. Wilton's heart beat more quickly as he looked at the glowing sweetness of her face. “Betty,” he said abruptly. “Betty, why have you never written me all these years?” Betty looked at him quickly. This firm, clear cut face was different from the joily boy’s features she had remembered, and there was a new, impelling quality in his tones that she rather liked, “Because, Jack,” she answered slowly, “IxH-ause you never wrote me.” “Oh, but I did.” he replied; “three different times!” "I never received the letters,” she said. “You might have known that Aunt Jane would take care of that.” Wilton walked up and down restlessly half a dozen times and throw some sticks on the fire before stopping In front of the girl. “And now,” he continued, “would you mind telling me why you sent me away from you five years ago?” “That was not Aunt Jane's fault, Jack,” she said eagerly. “Indeed, you must not blame her for that. She could pursue her own methods, hut she never could influence me in my own puriM»ses.” “Thank heaven for that!” interrupted Jack grimly. “You sent me away,” he prompted. Betty lifted her head bravely. “I sent you away,” she said, “that you might prove to me whether or not you were a man. You were only a college student then." Jack thrust his hands more deeply into his pockets. He was holding in well, considering the flood tide withj In. The sunrise and firelight vied with each other in lighting up the sweet moi bility of her face. Yes, it was the same dear Betty. “And now,” he said, a little hoarsely, “see how useless it was. for you don’t know what the years have done for me, and you are five years grown | away.” Betty rose slowly and looked into his I clear, dark eyes. She looked at the | fine, firm mouth, the clean cut tanned ! face, the straight, strong alertness of his figure. She spoke slowly aud softly. “Yes,” she said, “we did not write 1 to each other, but,” here she smiled a little, “your face tells me all that I j want to know.” i Jack took an eager step toward her. “And does it tell you that I have loved you always, loyally, for the long j five years?” I Betty’s voice trembled a little. “Yes, | Jack. It”— But the rest of her reply • was lost In Jack’s arms*

THEN HE GAVE A GREAT GASP OF ASTONISHMENT.