ROAN BARBARY.

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 12902, 13 February 1906, Page 2

ROAN BARBARY.

(Continued.)

■" Could you," Cicely called out to the man in the waggon, "please tell me what time it is ?"

" Come some distanQe, liaven't you," said the farmer, glancing at Barbaty. " I want so much," she urged, "to know what time, it is."

" Come pretty fast, too," continued the man. with friendly nterest.

"What time is it?" demanded Cicely. . " Some one sick, an' going for the doctor, eh?" he went on, comfortably crossing one leg over the other. " If you would only tell me what *im<> it is."' she begged, desperateiy. " Hope that whoever it is isn't very bad,*' he said, sociably. " I must know what time it is," commanded Cicely, at once." "Oh, what time is it!" he said, stirred by the authority of her tone, and looking uneasily at the sky. "Sun's been up some time—must be after eight. But," and as if, this were a sudden afterthought, I can look at my watch." And drawing out his timepiece, he added, " Twenty-seven minutes past eight."

"Thank you," said Cicely, and again she was on her way, leaving him starinc blankly alter her. Thirty-three minutes in which to get over what she roughly calculated must still be many miles, and* Barb;uy almost " done up." * It was unbearable to be so near and yet feel that the chance cf being too late was so verv great. Thirty-three mnutfes—if only there had been a little more! To have the power to' save the place—the money was in the leather pocket on her saddle in which she carried her luncheon for long rides—and not to be able to use it after all!

At the wayside there was a drinking trough made out of a hollowed log. and here for an instant Cicely drew up. Sliding to the ground, she allowed Barbary three swallows of the clear, cold water, gave him a moment to breathe, and, with an anxious glance at his reeking sides, was again on his back. " Now," she said, half to herself and half to the horse, as she urged him forward almost at the top of his speed. " Now." and with the same spirit witli which the Guards at. Waterloo answered to that *' up and at them!" Barbary responded to her sudden urgence. The rapidity of her motion stirred her jjoung blood powerfully, and with every fibre at tension, with one thought only—to get on, on, on—she harried along. " Now," she xepeated, as breathless .she drove Barbaxy to full racing speed; ;She felt the horse falter a little, but remorselessly she forced him forward. "I am sorry, Barbary," she whispered, leaning forward, " but you mnst!—you must! lam sorry, poor dear, but everything depends on ns, and you must 1" Quite as if she understood her—understood that on his speed that morning depended the fate of the house, the family—he picked himself up for a last effort. Cicely felt the straight-on stride, saw the outstretched neck, and felt that there was still a chance. Never had Barbary in those far-off days at Saratoga, at Louisville, at Lexington, swept in more gloriously to a close finish. The madness of motion mastered Cicely, and in spite of her anxiety and almost despair it seemed to her that she had never enjoyed anything as she did this wild rush. She knew that she was gaining—gaining—on time and space, and a new hope filled her heart. ' How many minutC6 were left she did' not- know, for again she was out of all reckoning; but with the speed they had been going the distance still to be traversed could not be great? Could lie do it? A little more and all would be well, but would that little more be possible? The wind sang in her ears as she cut through it, <and a strand of her hair, falling loose, streamed behind her. .She felt not only that it was a race but a flight, for behind all the thought and action of the night had hung the memory of Treloar and his faithfulness, and vaguely she anticipated the :rush of emotion that would overwhelm her when a period of calm had again come and reflection would be inevitable. It was from the memory of Treloar's desertion that it seemed to her she was running away, and each instant was an escape. " Oh, Barbary, Barbary!" she cried, appealingly, for she realised that the horse's powers were almost spent, and even as she spoke she saw through, an opening in a wood" the distant roofs of Bellamont and the small white steeples of its churches. "Barbary.". she called, "just a little longer, and a little more for my sake—for all our safces!" '

"It will be my duty," said the county official, with regretful deliberation, "-unless I receive a larger bid, to sell the farm property known as Waverley for the absurdly inadequate sum of sixteen thousand dollars." ,; There were but four or five persons present in the small room in ihe Bellamont courthouse, and receiving; no; response from any of them, he went on. '' Goinn. going, then," he said, " to Mr Avinger at sixteen thousand."

- There was a noise outside, the hurried tread of feet, and the door was thrown quickly open.

" Oh," criejl Ciceiy, entering with a rush, followed by all the usual loungers, whose curiosity had been aroused by the advent of the breathless young woman upon the jaded thoroughbred, and who evidently anticipated a sensation, '" please, Seventeen thousand!"

The auctioneer looked up, for a moment disconcerted by this startling interruption, but quickly recovering himself, he went on, mechanically: 1 ri - , - ■ " Seventeen thousand ; I undferstand that seventeen -thousand -is -bid • -by the -voung lady." " ,

Avinger, a strong old man with large hard features, frowned portentously. "Do you admit this bid" he "asked, roughly.

" I have the money here—here."' cried Cicely, holding up the leather pouch she had taken from'her saddle.

The auctioneer looked at her irresolmeiv. "It is all riglit," said another man, quietly. "I am Mr Paysant's lawyer. This is Miss Paysant, and* if she desires to bid on the property—" " "I don't sefr. Mr Avinjrer." said the auctioneer, "but that the bid is entirely regular."

"Thank you. Mr RrvUißayj'" Cic?lv,

nodding to the lawyer; then she added, firmly, "Seventeen thousand dollars."' " Eighteen," grumbled Avinger. " Nineteen." »aid Cicely. Isjciis.lv. "Twenty." continued her opponent. "Twenty-one," rejoir.ed Cicciy. rjtiickiy. / "You have the money?" whispered Ranv ® a y> approaching Cicely. " Lots," she said, confidently. He gave a low whistle and watched her wonderingly. " Tw«nty-one thousand and :lve hundred," called Avinger. "Twenty-two th"U.«sind." } expanded Cicely. calmly. The crowd pressed forward fxei'edSy. and with murniourous admiraiioa oxpicssed their sympathy. " Come up to that* now." siid an Irishman. more voluble llian she ntber#. " Twenty-three thou.vmd,"' muttcrxSl Avinger. * ! "Twenty-four,"' said Cicely, blvjdly. I " Why, certainly," commented a languid j Yankee. " What else.would you expert !" "Twenty-five thousand." exctaiffied Avinger, fiercely. * " Twenty-nix,"' upspoke Cicely, steadily. " Ye'U have hint yit," the Irisasnan exclaimed, delightedly. " He's w'.ikcaing now."' And. indeed. Avinger hesitV.led before he offered, with mote doubtful voice, his nest bid—

" Twenty-seven." " Twenty-eights"' called Cictsy. promptly. Avinger rose.

" Ye've got the best- of him. miss."' cried the Irishman, in ecstasy. " He's no more to say."

And. indeed, Aringer turned as if do leave the place. " Twenjy-eight thousand dollars." called the auctioneer. " Twenty eight thousand dollars; then, as no one spoke, he concluded : " Going, going, gone at tweti&yeight thousand delbrw."

"I consider the whole proceeding irregular, said Atuaget; and the crowd, careless of the points of the case, and from the start on Cicelv's side, applauded brokenly. " There." she said, and turning to Ramsay. -she threw the leather bag holding the money on the tabic: then without pausing she made her way out of the room, through the crowd, which opened to lei her pass. 6 s l ,e<l so .swiftly along the corridors, ran so quickly down the step*, that *be was alone when she reached the sidewalk, and no one saw her as she threw her wing around the horse's neck. " Barbary: Barbary!"' .-he cried, while for the first time tears tilled her eves. My darling, we were no: 100 late, aad—and it's aU right."

Treloar stood beside C'icelv on the vcr.w dab Waverley. and together they looked .. * - e new moon. „ " I' m 50 relieved," she eaid, contented!?. I always feel better after I have seen *it over my right shoulder, as I did now."' " What, did you wish V he asked. "Oh," she said, "1 forgot to do that, out it- doesn fe make anv diffeience": and. she added, with a «ttle #igh. " 1 don't believe there's rayihiuc «*e f want in she whole world." "Really:"' he asked. | Really, she answered, seriouslv. "I ftui perfectly happy; and yet," she added, j w:th a shudder, "h,\v nearfv if was all' spoiled!" •

" You really were unjust to mc," 2h said—"cruelly unjust." „ " course," ehe answered. striotjßlr. 'But. what do you expect? I'm *0 si. fully in love with you." mTe End.)