Still, the party went on, after a fashion, although some of the girls were rather absent-minded for a few moments, until they had determined what particularly cutting speeches they would make to their beaux when next they met them. They did not have long to wait, for soon the boys came straggling back, Sam Wardwell being the first to arrive, for, as on reaching the jail Sam could learn nothing, and found nothing to look at but the open door of the empty cell, he shrewdly determined that there might yet be time to get some more ice-cream if he hurried back. Somehow none of the girls abused him; on the contrary, they seemed so anxious to know all about the escape that Sam was almost sorry that he had not remained away longer and learned more.
Then Ned Johnston returned. He had been lucky enough to meet a man who had wanted to be Deputy-Sheriff and jail-keeper, but had failed; he told Ned that the jailer had stupidly forgotten to bolt the great door, after having examined the inside of the cell, as he did every night before retiring, to see if the prisoner had been attempting to cut through the walls. The prisoner had been smart enough to listen, and to notice that the bolts were not shot nor the key turned, so he had quietly walked out, and had not Mr. Wardwell met him on the street, and recognized him in spite of the darkness, and hurried off to tell the Sheriff, no one would have known of the escape until morning. There was not the slightest chance of catching the prisoner again, the would-be deputy had said to Ned; there wasn't brains enough in the Sheriff and all his staff to get the better of a smart man; but things would be very different if proper men were in office.
When the party finally broke up, several boys were still missing; but as their absence gave several other boys the chance to escort two girls home instead of one, these faithful beaux determined that they had not lost so very much by remaining, after all.
[to be continued.]
[COUNTRY ANECDOTES.]
I once saw a life-and-death struggle between two apparently very unequal opponents—a frog and a beetle. As I was standing near the cellar window, which was below-ground, and protected by an iron grating, I noticed in the area below it a large frog, which, at regular intervals of one or two minutes, leaped from one side of the little inclosure to the other. I looked more closely, and saw that it was each time followed by a black beetle, that walked backward and forward, not seeming at all discouraged when the frog, every time it reached it, jumped back over its head, and so escaped. It was evidently a trial of strength and perseverance between the two, and I was anxious to see which would first give in. They went on, however, for such a long time that I grew tired of watching them, and went away. The next morning, as I was again passing, I looked down the area to see what had been the result of the struggle, and, strange to say, it was still going on; the beetle deliberately hunting its victim, which, whenever they were about to meet, escaped by a great leap to the other side of its prison. Not until that evening did it end: then the poor frog, tired out, and too much exhausted to make any resistance, became the prey of its enemy, and no doubt furnished its meals for many a day.
As there were a good many rats about the out-houses and wood stacks, professional rat-catchers used to come once or twice a year, with their dogs and ferrets, and were paid according to the number they killed. Once when our gardener was assisting at the work of destruction he pulled one of the ferrets out of a hole, where it had been killing a brood of young rats. The poor mother, who had probably just returned from an expedition in search of food for her young ones, rushed out after the ferret, ran up the man's leg, on to his shoulder, and down his arm, quite blind to her own danger, and only desirous to reach the object of her vengeance in his hand.