The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 43, 24 October 1907, Page 3

The Storyteller

THE RURAL MAIL CARRIER

(Concluded from last week.) ; . i On the return road of his route it'-^'was ' ipuch worse, - for every moment the snow' was becoming deeper and the drifts more formidable. He did not try yto rlae now; it " was as much as his horse could do to pull /itself and the wagon through ,the snow.' Two miles from town he decided it was cruel--ty to the animal to expose it to the blizzard any longer, and he turned into the barn of a farmer who lived on- the road and .stabled it -for the night. From there ~he walked to town, depositing and taking up mail at the boxes as he passed. It was- after dark when he reached- the Post Office, and was eight below zero. _ None of the other carriers' had returned, though | one of .them Had sent a message over the only telephone wire whicß was not down. It stated that -'this carrier's wagon had stuck in a drift and could not "be extricated ; that his own ears were frozen, and that ' he had' stopped at a farmhouse, where he would; remain until the storm moderated enough for him to Com- .- plete his route. ? As he was about to leave the "Pbst~ Office, "after arranging his mail, Bates met "the village liveryman coming,. in. . His face looked troubled. " _->■ -' : 'Hello, Bates,' he said. 'You're Just the man I'm looking for. "Seen anything of Cheesick ? ' ' Not since yesterday afternoon.' '_ In spite of its anxiety, the face relaxed into a grin. 'Oh, yes, I heard about- that. But I; mean' today, out on • your" route. .He started for Lindenwood's several hours .ago. Told my stable,- boy it was" going to bic a bad night, and that he'd better start early before Tt got to" its worst.' ' N"o, I haven't seen hini. Igo out that ..way in the morning, and come back by the other -road in" the afternoon.' ' Yes, that's so. Well, I don't Know what- to do. If 'twas anybody but Cheesick I wouldn't think so much of it, but- he don't know a thing about horses, and bnit precious little about storms. He came right out of his warm store, with his big fur overcoat covering him all up, and fur over his head and face and hands. The boy said he couldn't see anything but eyes and a line of white frost puffing through a hole about where the .nose ought to be. Cold couldn't have got in anywhere to nip him a warning before he started. If I'd been in the stable, I wouldn't have given" him a horse, but tlie Boy didn't know.' ' Well," perhaps "he got through all right.' But there was grave doubt in Bates' voice. 'Perhaps,' with even rmore doubt. 'But two farmers out that way started home an hour ago,' and they just came back. They said the drifts were -so • bad they couldn't -ir^ke it, and Cheesick "was only an hour ahead of J them. If they couldn't get thorough, what would lie do? The snow couldn't -have got so very much worse, in an hour.' ' I expect I'd- better go out and look- for him,' said Bates. * You ? ' incredulously. ' Man alive L you couldn't do anything in this storm. If the farmers couldn't get their horses through, you can't. They- are both plucky fellows.' ' I shall not take a horse,' returned -Bates. ' I can do better on foot, for then I can go around the drifts and crawl along fences- and often strike across •the- higher- ground where. the. wind .has. kept the. snow down. H will not be' so dark but' I can' examine the road, for the soiow itself will give some light.' 1 But you. can't do it,' his anxiety for the horse changing to anxiety for Bates — ' four miles through; this storm to Lindejawood's. It's suicide, man. Uhe&sick ~ will be ■ Alt _- right, I think;- There" were, heavy rop>s in the carriage, .• and" they and _ his own wraps' will -Jbunfc him r- in "warm, even out .in 'a,' storm. It was:, the horse I was thinking of, "but a horse' isn't worth risking a man's fife, for.' . ' '•■... --.- .. ' I- don't agree with you there,' emphatically.- 1* VA risk my life for my horse any time, if there were need; and I think Cheesick wants looking after. Eight: degrees" below zero and this wind will cut- through^ any amount of furs. I've an idea he's in the drift ' just this side of Lindenwood's. I had- difficulty in iraking that even jn the forenoon.: ' . :. _ ' Well, you'll take somebody along with you ? '.in a * troubled voice. * Fan afraid I've started you into this thing. Suppose Igo too ? ' *■'-

1 No,', quickly, 'Td rather go alone. You see, I.m over the road every day, and know all" its crooks and turns and how to take advantage of things. If I have , companions I'm pretty sure to be delayed more or less looking after them, and in this trip I shall need every ounce of strength and every second of time. It 'will v not be child's play. ' But,' straightening himself to his full height and squaring his- shoulders unconsciously, 1 it's a sort of .thing I rather like. Somehow, it makes one feel like a man. I shall get through all right, you needn't worry about that. And I wouldn't wonder if your horse reaches home to-night. If he's in the <Trfft, 1 shall release him from ithe carriage, fasten a robe over him, and start him for home. His instinct will take .him to his stable. I've sedh that done before. Be sure you leave a place for him to'/ get in.' Bates never said much about that trip ; he was too modest. But one thing and another came out from time to time, and were pieced together, until at length it became a story that was told at winter firesides when the wind whistled and. the snow banked up into drifts upon the doorsteps. An old woman whose house was directly upon the road declared she saw him creeping along the top rail of a fence like a cat, because the snow would have been up to his shoulders ; and two boys who were daring each other to cross the road confessed they had seen what appeared to be a snow man pushing through a drift' up to his waist, and that when 'he spoke they were so scared they had scurried into the house. And there were other things, too many to repeat, but all of which went toward making up the story. The liveryman slept in an office in his stable, and that night he was awakened by a weary whinny in . which was unmistakable gladness. When he rose and went into the barn, there was the horse Cheesick had taken, with snow still clinging to its body and in its mane. While he was preparing a generous allowance of cut feed and meal he heard his office clock striking twelve. It was an hour later than that when Lindenwood was awakened by a fumbling at the door nearest the main road. For some time he * lay listening, then Pressed and went down. When he opened the door two men fell in. Cheesick was the first to speak, and told a rambling story about being carried on the shoulder of a man through big drifts and over fences. It was less than half a mile, but they had been four hours in making it. Bates slept all that night and most of the next day, then he woke suddenly and rose, declaring he was all right. As soon as he had eaten, he insisted on returning to town. The next day he delivered his mail as usual. By that time it had ceased to snow, and the surface was crusted over hard enough to bear his weight. A few days later it turned warm again, but it was a week before the lane was sufficiently clear and dry for Mercy to walk out to her box. Bates always shot a quick glance toward that particular corner as soon as it came in sight. This morn L ing he saw her the very instant his eyes rose over the level of the next hill. But he did not urge his horse forward. 4 Good morning,' he said, as he turned his wagon in towara the box and sprang out. 'We are having fine weather again.'. • Yes, indeed;'- stepping forward with hands outstretched. • ' I want to thank you, Mr. Bates. It was fine.' He smiled deprecatingly. 1 Please clon't,' he protested. 'It was only what anyTJociy would have done — or ought to. I was glad to help Him to your house. But people talk too much aJbtout sucK things. A dozen have mentioned it already.' 1 Oh, it wasn't that I meant,.' her eyes snapping. ' I knew you would do sucE things. It's about the.Jiorse trough. I've just heard of it, and the reasoiS why he needed the bath. Papa liked it too, andsaia it was a good thing.' Bates started. 1 But I—lI — I thought it was all settled between you,' he stammered. ' Cheesick himself told me so this morning, and he said he would renew my note for six months at tlie "double rate of interest I offered.' Mercy laughed outright. c Just like hiir>,' she declared. 'He told us he was going; to do something handsome Tor you. And he was right about it ibeing settled between us— it always was so far as I was con- - •earned, only I—lI — I was afraid some of the things he said ""•"might be true. I ought, to have , known 'better, ' Harry.' . ' , .>■

Not until he had nearly completed his route did Bates remember he had not given Mercy her mail. It was the first mistake of the kind he had ever made. But he took it * out to her wiat evening.—' The Guidon.' . -