The Fish's Eye.
By HERBERT V. PERRY.
THE rain had been pouring down for hours. We had long since given up trying to ride, and now it was with the utmost difficulty that we could even push our wheels before us as we walked. Every few minutes we came to a halt, and I turned my light on the doctor's wheel, while he scraped off the sticky, red clay from the sprocket and forks; and when he had cleared it sufficiently to allow the wheels to revolve, he turned his light upon mine, while I performed the same operation. It was as dark as pitch, and as we proceeded the road grew worse and worse, and the rain came down in torrents.
"You are sure we are on the right road?" queried the doctor, as we stopped to puff a bit, after slipping and sliding across a rocky ravine.
"Oh, yes, there can be no doubt about it, for old Pete told us to take the first road to the. left, which, he said, would lead us to the trail down to the river. This shower will be over by morning, and the fishing is always better after a rain." said I encouragingly, but, to tell the truth, in my own mind I was beginning to have my doubts about the road.
These doubts grew into certainties before we had gone much farther, for the road was crossed here and there by fallen trees, and low underbrush barred our progress. At last, realizing that it was useless to try to go any further, I stopped, and had the mortification of owning up to the doctor that I had led him astray. He was better-natured about it than I had hoped for, and, leaning our mud-clogged wheels against a tree, we sat down, dripping and dismal, on an old log that lay across the road.
"Well Doctor," said I, taking a comforting puff at my pipe, "the question is, What shall we do, turn back, go forward, or camp?" I tried to say "or camp" as cheerfully as possible, for, privately, I thought that that was the only thing we could do; but what a camp! The rain was pouring down in a steady, determined manner, as though with the fixed intention of driving us back, and the trees dripped tearfully about us. To make a fire was out of the question, for everything was literally soaked.
The doctor remained silent for some time, and then he said slowly: "If we return to the main road we will be no better off than we are now, and if this is not the road we were directed to follow, it will lead us to the river anyway, so that it won't matter much; and as I do not feel inclined to sit here till I am chilled through, I say, let's go ahead."
I had made up my mind to abide by the doctor's decision, so, without a word, I knocked the ashes out of my pipe, put it in my pocket, lifted my wheel over the log, and went slipping and sliding on as before.
Thicker and thicker the brush, and dimmer and dimmer the road. At last, when almost worn out with hauling ourselves over logs, I discovered a narrow path leading off to the right of us, and as the path was well-worn and free from brush, we came to the wise conclusion that it must lead somewhere, and straightway turned aside to follow it.
We had not gone far before we caught the sound of the river, roaring and rushing, below us; thus encouraged, we quickened our pace, now turning to the right and now to the left, until suddenly we both stopped and uttered an exclamation of delight. Far down through the dismal, dripping trees a little light twinkled cheerfully.
We hurried on, our wheels bumping over the sticks and stones, and the pedals occasionally clipping us on the shins as we dragged them through the tangled vines that now and then obstructed our way. At last we reached the light, which
