yelled at us. We couldn’t see him although he was as near as he could ride the bay mare, owing to the four-foot walk. We yelled, “Where have you been?” He said in return he had been to Salem to see Bush (the banker there). “Drove out,” said he; “got back at dark, was wet through anyway and my hired man said that over town they believed the Hults up near Cedar Camp were all down with diphtheria. And I got to thinking maybe they needed help, so I had the mare saddled and I am going up.”
“Jake,” my father called, “are you crazy? Have you lost your wits entirely? Don’t you know that when you get into the live timber in the mountains you will be struck every twenty feet by flying limbs?”
“Well,” he said, “I have thought of that, but there is no way to get around that belt of live timber, and I thought as I couldn’t see at all, I might take a chance and dodge the best I can, so I’ll be off.”
“Jake, hold on.” But no answer came from the black night but the howling storm. We even waited a moment till the sheets of water seemed to shift till we could call again,
