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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Argonaut stories, by Jerome Hart
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Argonaut stories
-
-Editor: Jerome Hart
-
-Release Date: June 25, 2022 [eBook #68408]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
-             https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images
-             made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARGONAUT STORIES ***
-
-
-
-
-
-ARGONAUT STORIES
-
-
-
-Argonaut Stories
-
-  J. LONDON, F. NORRIS, S. E. WHITE, J. F. WILSON, W. C. MORROW,
-  G. OVERTON, W. O. McGEEHAN, W. H. IRWIN, K. THOMPSON, M. ROBERTS,
-  B. O’NEILL, E. MUNSON, C. F. EMBREE, C. ALFRED, G. C. TERRY,
-  N. KOUNS, NEIL GILLESPIE, B. W. SINCLAIR, C. W. DOYLE,
-  C. D. WILLARD, R. D. MILNE, G. BONNER.
-
-Selected from the Argonaut
-
-Jerome Hart, Editor
-
-SAN FRANCISCO: PAYOT, UPHAM & COMPANY
-
-Agents for Pacific Coast 1906
-
-
-
-
-Copyright, 1906
-
-By the Argonaut Publishing Company
-
-THE ARGONAUT PRESS
-
-SAN FRANCISCO
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-    JACK LONDON: Moon-Face
-    FRANK NORRIS: A Caged Lion
-    GWENDOLEN OVERTON: The Race Bond
-    WILLIAM C. MORROW: The Rajah’s Nemesis
-    BUCKEY O’NEILL: The Man-Hunters’ Reward
-    GERALDINE BONNER: Conscience Money
-    CHARLES DWIGHT WILLARD: The Jack-Pot
-    C. W. DOYLE: The Seats of Judgment
-    STEWART EDWARD WHITE: A Double Shot
-    ROBERT DUNCAN MILNE: Ten Thousand Years in Ice
-    W. O. McGEEHAN: Leaves on the River Pasig
-    CHARLES F. EMBREE: The Great Euchre Boom
-    MARIA ROBERTS: The Sorcery of Asenath
-    E. MUNSON: Old “Hard Luck”
-    WILL H. IRWIN: The Dotted Trail
-    C. ALFRED: The White Grave
-    GIBERT CUNYNGHAM TERRY: The Jewels of Bendita
-    NATHAN C. KOUNS: The Man-Dog
-    JOHN F. WILSON: The Amateur Revolutionist
-    NEIL GILLESPIE: The Blood of a Comrade
-    BERTRAND W. SINCLAIR: Under Flying Hoofs
-    KATHLEEN THOMPSON: The Colonel and “The Lady”
-
-
-
-
-MOON FACE
-
-By Jack London
-
-
-John Claverhouse was a moon-faced man. You know the
-kind--cheek-bones wide apart, chin and forehead melting into the
-cheeks to complete the perfect round, and the nose, broad and pudgy,
-equidistant from the circumference, flattened against the very
-centre of the face like a dough-ball upon the ceiling. Perhaps that
-is why I hated him, for truly he had become an offense to my eyes,
-and I believed the earth to be cumbered with his presence. Perhaps
-my mother may have been superstitious of the moon and looked upon it
-over the wrong shoulder at the wrong time.
-
-But be that as it may, I hated John Claverhouse. Not that he had
-done me what society would consider a wrong or an ill turn. Far from
-it, in any such sense. The evil was of a deeper, subtler sort; so
-elusive, so intangible, as to defy clear, definite analysis in
-words. We all experience such things at some period in our lives.
-For the first time we see a certain individual, one whom the very
-instant before we did not dream existed; and yet, at the first
-moment of meeting, we say: “I do not like that man.” Why do we not
-like him? And we do not know why; we only know that we do not. We
-have taken a dislike, that is all. And so I with John Claverhouse.
-
-What right had such a man to be happy? Yet he was an optimist. He
-was always gleeful and laughing. All things were always all right,
-curse him! Ah! how it grated on my soul that he should be so happy!
-Other men could laugh, and it did not bother me. I even used to
-laugh myself--before I met John Claverhouse.
-
-But his laugh! It irritated me, maddened me, as nothing else under
-the sun could irritate or madden me. It haunted me, gripped hold of
-me, and would not let me go. It was a huge, Gargantuan laugh. Waking
-or sleeping it was always with me, whirring and jarring across my
-heart-strings and the very fibres of my being like an enormous rasp.
-At break of day it came whooping across the fields to spoil my
-pleasant morning reverie. Under the aching noon-day glare, when the
-green things drooped and the birds withdrew to the depths of the
-forest, and all nature drowsed, his great “Ha! ha!” and “Ho! ho!”
-rose up to the sky and challenged the sun. And at black midnight,
-from the lonely cross-roads where he turned from town into his own
-place, came his plaguy cachinnations to rouse me from my sleep and
-make me toss about and clench my nails into my palms.
-
-I went forth privily in the night-time and turned his cattle into
-his fields, and in the morning heard his whooping laugh as he drove
-them out again. “It is nothing,” he said; “the poor, dumb beasties
-are not to be blamed for straying into fatter pastures.”
-
-He had a dog he called “Mars,” a big, splendid brute, part deerhound
-and part bloodhound, and resembling both. Mars was a great delight
-to him, and they were always together. But I bided my time, and one
-day, when opportunity was ripe, lured the animal away and settled
-for him with arsenic and beefsteak. It made positively no impression
-on John Claverhouse. His laugh was as hearty and frequent as ever,
-and his face as much like the full moon as it always had been.
-
-Then I set fire to his hay-stacks and his barn. But the next
-morning, being Sunday, he went forth blithe and cheerful.
-
-“Where are you going?” I asked him, as he went by the cross-roads.
-
-“Trout,” he said, and his face beamed like a full moon. “I just dote
-on trout, you know.”
-
-Was there ever such an impossible man! His whole harvest had gone up
-in his hay-stacks and barn. It was uninsured, I knew. And yet, in
-the face of famine and the rigorous winter, he went out gayly in
-quest of a mess of trout, forsooth, because he “doted” on them! Had
-gloom but rested, no matter how lightly, on his brow, or had his
-bovine countenance grown long and serious and less like the moon, or
-had he removed that smile but once from off his face, I am sure I
-could have forgiven him for existing. But, no, he grew only more
-cheerful under misfortune.
-
-I insulted him. He looked at me in slow and smiling surprise.
-
-“I fight you? Why?” he asked, slowly. And then he laughed. “You are
-so funny! Ho! ho! You’ll be the death of me! He! he! he! Oh! Ho! ho!
-ho!”
-
-What would you? It was past endurance. By the blood of Judas, how I
-hated him! Then there was that name--Claverhouse! What a name!
-Wasn’t it absurd? Claverhouse! Merciful heaven, _why_ Claverhouse?
-Again and again I asked myself that question. I should not have
-minded Smith, or Brown, or Jones--but _Claverhouse_! I leave it to
-you. Repeat it to yourself--Claverhouse. Just listen to the
-ridiculous sound of it--Claverhouse! Should a man live with such a
-name? I ask of you. “No,” you say. And “No” said I.
-
-But I bethought me of his mortgage. What of his crops and barn
-destroyed, I knew he would be unable to meet it. So I got a shrewd,
-close-mouthed, tight-fisted money-lender to get the mortgage
-transferred to him. I did not appear, but through this agent I
-forced the foreclosure, and but few days (no more, believe me, than
-the law allowed) were given John Claverhouse to remove his goods and
-chattels from the premises. Then I strolled down to see how he took
-it, for he had lived there upward of twenty years. But he met me
-with his saucer-eyes twinkling, and the light glowing and spreading
-in his face till it was as a full-risen moon.
-
-“Ha! ha! ha!” he laughed. “The funniest tike, that youngster of
-mine! Did you ever hear the like? Let me tell you. He was down
-playing by the edge of the river when a piece of the bank caved in
-and splashed him. ‘Oh, papa!’ he cried; ‘a great big puddle flewed
-up and hit me.’”
-
-He stopped and waited for me to join him in his infernal glee.
-
-“I don’t see any laugh in it,” I said, shortly, and I know my face
-went sour.
-
-He regarded me with wonderment, and then came the damnable light,
-glowing and spreading, as I have described it, till his face shone
-soft and warm, like the summer moon, and then the laugh--“Ha! ha!
-That’s funny! You don’t see it, eh? He! he! Ho! ho! ho! He doesn’t
-see it! Why, look here. You know, a puddle----”
-
-But I turned on my heel and left him. That was the last. I could
-stand it no longer. The thing must end right there, I thought, curse
-him! The earth should be quit of him. And as I went over the hill, I
-could hear his monstrous laugh reverberating against the sky.
-
-Now, I pride myself on doing things neatly, and when I resolved to
-kill John Claverhouse I had it in mind to do so in such a fashion
-that I should not look back upon it and feel ashamed. I hate
-bungling, and I hate brutality. To me there is something repugnant
-in merely striking a man with one’s naked fist--faugh! it is
-sickening! So, to shoot, or stab, or club John Claverhouse (O that
-name!) did not appeal to me. And not only was I impelled to do it
-neatly and artistically, but also in such manner that not the
-slightest possible suspicion could be directed against me.
-
-To this end I bent my intellect, and, after a week of profound and
-strenuous incubation, I hatched the scheme. Then I set to work. I
-bought a water-spaniel bitch, five months old, and devoted my whole
-attention to her training. Had any one spied upon me, they would
-have remarked that this training consisted entirely of one
-thing--_retrieving_. I taught the dog, which I called “Bellona,” to
-fetch sticks I threw into the water, and not only to fetch, but to
-fetch at once, without mouthing or playing with them. The point was
-that she was to stop for nothing, but to deliver the stick in all
-haste. I made a practice of running away and leaving her to chase
-me, with the stick in her mouth, till she caught me. She was a
-bright animal, and took to the game with such eagerness that I was
-soon content.
-
-After that, at the first casual opportunity, I presented Bellona to
-John Claverhouse. I knew what I was about, for I was aware of a
-little weakness of his, and of a little private and civic sinning of
-which he was regularly and inveterately guilty.
-
-“No,” he said, when I placed the end of the rope to which she was
-tied in his hand. “No, you don’t mean it.” And his mouth opened
-wide, and he grinned all over his damnable moon-face.
-
-“I--I kind of thought, somehow, you didn’t like me,” he explained.
-“Wasn’t it funny for me to make such a mistake?” And at the thought
-he held his sides with laughter.
-
-“What is her name?” he managed to ask between paroxysms.
-
-“Bellona,” I said.
-
-“He! he!” he tittered. “What a funny name!”
-
-I gritted my teeth, for his mirth put them on edge, and snapped out
-between them: “She was the wife of Mars, you know.”
-
-Then the light of the full moon began to suffuse his face, until he
-exploded with: “Well, I guess she’s a widow now! Oh! Ho! ho! E! he!
-he! Ho!” he whooped after me, and I turned and fled swiftly away
-over the hill.
-
-The week passed by, and on Saturday evening I said to him: “You go
-away Monday, don’t you?”
-
-He nodded his head and grinned.
-
-“Then you won’t have another chance to get a mess of those trout you
-just ‘dote’ on.”
-
-But he did not notice the sneer. “Oh, I don’t know,” he chuckled.
-“I’m going up to-morrow to try pretty hard.”
-
-Thus was assurance made doubly sure, and I went back to my house
-literally hugging myself with rapture.
-
-Early next morning I saw him go by with a dip-net and gunnysack, and
-Bellona trotting at his heels. I knew where he was bound, and cut
-out by the back pasture and climbed through the underbrush to the
-top of the mountain. Keeping carefully out of sight, I followed the
-crest along for a couple of miles to a natural amphitheatre in the
-hills, where the little river ramped down out of a gorge, and
-stopped for breath in a large and placid rock-bound pool. That was
-the spot! I sat down on the croup of the mountain, where I could see
-all that occurred, and lighted my pipe.
-
-Ere many minutes had passed, John Claverhouse came plodding up the
-bed of the stream. Bellona was ambling about him, and they were in
-high feather, her short, snappy barks mingling with his deeper
-chest-notes. Arrived at the pool, he threw down the dip-net and
-sack, and drew from his hip-pocket what looked like a large, fat
-candle. But I knew it to be a stick of “giant”; for such was his
-method of catching trout. He dynamited them. He attached the fuse by
-wrapping the “giant” tightly in a piece of cotton. Then he ignited
-the fuse and tossed the explosive into the pool.
-
-Like a flash, Bellona was into the pool after it. I could have
-shrieked aloud for very joy. Claverhouse yelled at her, but without
-avail. He pelted her with clods and rocks, but she swam steadily on
-till she got the stick of “giant” in her mouth, when she whirled
-about and headed for shore. Then, for the first time, he realized
-his danger, and started to run. As foreseen and planned by me, she
-made the bank and took out after him. Oh, I tell you, it was great!
-As I have said, the pool lay in a sort of amphitheatre. Above and
-below, the stream could be crossed on stepping-stones. And around
-and around, up and down and across the stones, raced Claverhouse and
-Bellona. I could never have believed that such an ungainly man could
-run so fast. But run he did, Bellona hot-footed after him, and
-gaining. And then, just as she caught up, he in full stride, and she
-leaping with nose at his knee, there was a sudden flash, a burst of
-smoke, and terrific detonation, and where man and dog had been the
-instant before there was naught to be seen but a big hole in the
-ground.
-
-“Death from accident while engaged in illegal fishing.” That was the
-verdict of the coroner’s jury; and that is why I pride myself on the
-neat and artistic way in which I finished off John Claverhouse.
-There was no bungling, no brutality; nothing to be ashamed of in the
-whole transaction, as I am sure you will agree. No more does his
-infernal laugh go echoing among the hills, and no more does his fat
-moon-face rise up to vex me. My days are peaceful now, and my
-night’s sleep deep.
-
-
-
-
-A CAGED LION
-
-By Frank Norris
-
-
-In front of the entrance a “spieler” stood on a starch-box and beat
-upon a piece of tin with a stick, and we weakly succumbed to his
-frenzied appeals and went inside. We did this, I am sure, partly to
-please the “spieler,” who would have been dreadfully disappointed if
-we had not done so, but partly, too, to please Toppan, who was
-always interested in the great beasts and liked to watch them.
-
-It is possible that you may remember Toppan as the man who married
-Victoria Boyden, and, in so doing, thrust his greatness from him and
-became a bank-clerk instead of an explorer. After he married, he
-came to be quite ashamed of what he had done in Thibet and Africa
-and other unknown corners of the earth, and, after a while, very
-seldom spoke of that part of his life at all; or, when he did, it
-was only to allude to it as a passing boyish fancy, altogether
-foolish and silly, like calf-love and early attempts at poetry.
-
-“I used to think I was going to set the world on fire at one time,”
-he said once; “I suppose every young fellow has some such ideas. I
-only made an ass of myself, and I’m glad I’m well out of it.
-Victoria saved me from that.”
-
-But this was long afterward. He died hard, and sometimes he would
-have moments of strength in his weakness, just as before he had
-given up his career during a moment of weakness in his strength.
-During the first years after he had given up his career, he thought
-he was content with the way things had come to be; but it was not
-so, and now and then the old feeling, the love of the old life, the
-old ambition, would be stirred into activity again by some sight, or
-sound, or episode in the conventional life around him. A chance
-paragraph in a newspaper, a sight of the Arizona deserts of sage and
-cactus, a momentary panic on a ferry-boat, sometimes even fine music
-or a great poem would wake the better part of him to the desire of
-doing great things. At such times the longing grew big and troublous
-within him to cut loose from it all, and get back to those places of
-the earth where there were neither months nor years, and where the
-days of the week had no names; where he could feel unknown winds
-blowing against his face and unnamed mountains rising beneath his
-feet; where he could see great sandy, stony stretches of desert with
-hot, blue shadows, and plains of salt, and thickets of jungle-grass,
-broken only by the lairs of beasts and the paths the steinbok make
-when they go down to water.
-
-The most trifling thing would recall all this to him just as a
-couple of notes have recalled to you whole arias and overtures. But
-with Toppan it was as though one had recalled the arias and the
-overtures, and then was not allowed to sing them.
-
-We went into the arena and sat down. The ring in the middle was
-fenced in by a great, circular iron cage. The tiers of seats rose
-around this, a band was playing in a box over the entrance, and the
-whole interior was lighted by an electric globe slung over the
-middle of the cage. Inside a brown bear--to me less suggestive of a
-wild animal than of lap-robes and furriers’ signs--was dancing
-sleepily and allowing himself to be prodded by a person whose
-celluloid standing-collar showed white at the neck above the green
-of his Tyrolese costume. The bear was mangy, and his steel muzzle
-had chafed him, and Toppan said he was corrupted of moth and rust
-alike, and the audience applauded but feebly when he and his keeper
-withdrew.
-
-After this we had a clown-elephant, dressed in a bib and tucker and
-vast baggy breeches--like those of a particularly big French
-_Turco_--who had lunch with his keeper, and rang the bell and drank
-his wine and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief like a bed-quilt,
-and pulled the chair from underneath his companion, seeming to be
-amused at it all with a strange sort of suppressed elephantine
-mirth.
-
-And then, after they had both made their bow and gone out, in
-bounded and tumbled the dogs, barking and grinning all over, jumping
-up on their stools and benches, wriggling and pushing one another
-about, giggling and excited like so many kindergarten children on a
-show day. I am sure they enjoyed their performance as much as the
-audience did, for they never had to be told what to do, and seemed
-only too eager for their turn to come. The best of it all was that
-they were quite unconscious of the audience, and appeared to do
-their tricks for the sake of the tricks themselves, and not for the
-applause which followed them. And, then, after the usual programme
-of wicker cylinders, hoops, and balls was over, they all rushed off
-amid a furious scrattling of paws and filliping of tails and heels.
-
-While this was going on, we had been hearing from time to time a
-great sound, half-whine, half-rumbling guttural cough, that came
-from somewhere behind the exit from the cage. It was repeated at
-rapidly decreasing intervals, and grew lower in pitch until it ended
-in a short bass grunt. It sounded cruel and menacing, and when at
-its full volume the wood of the benches under us thrilled and
-vibrated.
-
-There was a little pause in the programme while the arena was
-cleared and new and much larger and heavier paraphernalia were set
-about, and a gentleman with well-groomed hair and a very shiny hat
-entered and announced “the world’s greatest lion-tamer.” Then he
-went away and the tamer came in and stood expectantly by the side of
-the entrance. There was another short wait and the band struck a
-long minor chord.
-
-And then they came in, one after the other, with long, crouching,
-lurching strides, not all good-humoredly, like the dogs or the
-elephant, or even the bear, but with low-hanging heads, surly,
-watchful, their eyes gleaming with the rage and hate that burned in
-their hearts, and that they dared not vent. Their loose, yellow
-hides rolled and rippled over the great muscles as they moved, and
-the breath coming from their hot, half-open mouths turned to steam
-as it struck the air.
-
-A huge, blue-painted see-saw was dragged out to the centre, and the
-tamer made a sharp sound of command. Slowly, and with twitching
-tails, two of them obeyed, and, clambering upon the balancing-board,
-swung up and down, while the music played a see-saw waltz. And all
-the while their great eyes flamed with the detestation of the thing,
-and their black upper lips curled away from their long fangs in
-protest of this hourly renewed humiliation and degradation.
-
-And one of the others, while waiting his turn to be whipped and
-bullied, sat up on his haunches and faced us and looked far away
-beyond us over the heads of the audience--over the continent and
-ocean, as it were--as though he saw something in that quarter that
-made him forget his present surroundings.
-
-“You grand old brute,” muttered Toppan; and then he said: “Do you
-know what you would see if you were to look into his eyes now? You
-would see Africa, and unnamed mountains, and great stony stretches
-of desert, with hot blue shadows, and plains of salt, and lairs in
-the jungle-grass, and lurking places near the paths the steinbok
-make when they go down to water. But now he’s hampered and
-caged--_is_ there anything worse than a caged lion?--and kept from
-the life he loves and was made for”--just here the tamer spoke
-sharply to him, and his eyes and crest drooped--“and ruled over,”
-concluded Toppan, “by some one who is not so great as he, who has
-spoiled what was best in him, and has turned his powers to trivial,
-resultless uses--some one weaker than he, yet stronger. Ah, well,
-old brute, it was yours once, we will remember that.”
-
-They wheeled out a clumsy velocipede built expressly for him, and,
-while the lash whistled and snapped about him, the conquered king
-heaved himself upon it and went around and around the ring, while
-the band played a quickstep. The audience broke into applause, and
-the tamer smirked and bobbed his well-oiled head. I thought of
-Samson performing for the Philistines and Thusnelda at the triumph
-of Germanicus. The great beasts, grand though conquered, seemed to
-be the only dignified ones in the whole business. I hated the
-audience who saw their shame from behind iron bars; I hated myself
-for being one of them; and I hated the smug, sniggering tamer.
-
-This latter had been drawing out various stools and ladders, and now
-arranged the lions upon them so they should form a pyramid, with
-himself on top.
-
-Then he swung himself up among them, with his heels upon their
-necks, and, taking hold of the jaws of one, wrenched them apart with
-a great show of strength, turning his head to the audience so that
-all should see.
-
-And just then the electric light above him cackled harshly,
-guttered, dropped down to a pencil of dull red, then went out, and
-the place was absolutely dark.
-
-The band stopped abruptly, with a discord, and there was an instant
-of silence. Then we heard the stools and ladders clattering as the
-lions leaped down; and straightway four pair of lambent green spots
-burned out of the darkness and traveled swiftly about here and
-there, crossing and recrossing one another like the lights of
-steamers in a storm. Heretofore, the lions had been sluggish and
-inert; now they were aroused and alert in an instant, and we could
-hear the swift _pad-pad_ of their heavy feet as they swung around
-the arena, and the sound of their great bodies rubbing against the
-bars of the cage as one and the other passed nearer to us.
-
-I don’t think the audience at all appreciated the situation at
-first, for no one moved or seemed excited, and one shrill voice
-suggested that the band should play “When the Electric Lights Go
-Out.”
-
-“Keep perfectly quiet, please!” called the tamer out of the
-darkness, and a certain peculiar ring in his voice was the first
-intimation of a possible danger.
-
-But Toppan knew; and as we heard the tamer fumbling for the catch of
-the gate, which he somehow could not loose in the darkness, he said,
-with a rising voice: “He wants to get that gate open pretty quick.”
-
-But for their restless movements the lions were quiet; they uttered
-no sound, which was a bad sign. Blinking and dazed by the garish
-blue-whiteness of a few moments before, they could see perfectly now
-where the tamer was blind.
-
-“Listen,” said Toppan. Near to us, and on the inside of the cage, we
-could hear a sound as of some slender body being whisked back and
-forth over the surface of the floor. In an instant I guessed what it
-was; one of the lions was crouched there, whipping his sides with
-his tail.
-
-“When he stops that, he’ll spring,” said Toppan, excitedly.
-
-“Bring a light, Jerry--quick!” came the tamer’s voice.
-
-People were clambering to their feet by this time, talking loud, and
-we heard a woman cry out.
-
-“Please keep as quiet as possible, ladies and gentlemen!” cried the
-tamer; “it won’t do to excite----”
-
-From the direction of the voice came the sound of a heavy fall and a
-crash that shook the iron gratings in their sockets.
-
-“He’s got him!” shouted Toppan.
-
-And then what a scene! In that thick darkness every one sprang up,
-stumbling over the seats and over each other, all shouting and
-crying out, suddenly stricken with a panic fear of something they
-could not see. Inside the barred death-trap every lion suddenly gave
-tongue at once, until the air shook and sang in our ears. We could
-hear the great cats hurling themselves against the bars, and could
-see their eyes leaving brassy streaks against the darkness as they
-leaped. Two more sprang, as the first had done, toward that quarter
-of the cage from which came sounds of stamping and struggling, and
-then the tamer began to scream.
-
-I think that so long as I shall live I shall not forget the sound of
-the tamer’s screams. He did not scream as a woman would have done,
-from the head, but from the chest, which sounded so much worse that
-I was sick from it in a second with that sickness that weakens one
-at the pit of the stomach and along the muscles at the back of the
-legs. He did not pause for a second. Every breath was a scream, and
-every scream was alike, and one heard through it all the long snarls
-of satisfied hate and revenge, muffled by the man’s clothes and the
-_rip_, _rip_ of the cruel, blunt claws.
-
-Hearing it all in the dark, as we did, made it all the more
-dreadful. I think for a time I must have taken leave of my senses. I
-was ready to vomit for the sickness that was upon me, and I beat my
-hands raw upon the iron bars or clasped them over my ears against
-the sounds of the dreadful thing that was doing behind them. I
-remember praying aloud that it might soon be over with, so only
-those screams might be stopped.
-
-It seemed as though it had gone on for hours, when some men rushed
-in with a lantern and long, sharp irons. A hundred voices cried:
-“Here he is, over here!” and they ran around outside the cage and
-threw the light of the lantern on a place where a heap of gray,
-gold-laced clothes writhed and twisted beneath three great bulks of
-fulvous hide and bristling black mane.
-
-The irons were useless. The three furies dragged their prey out of
-their reach and crouched over it again and recommenced. No one dared
-to go into the cage, and still the man lived and struggled and
-screamed.
-
-I saw Toppan’s fingers go to his mouth, and through that medley of
-dreadful noises there issued a sound that, sick as I was, made me
-shrink anew and close my eyes and teeth and shudder as though some
-cold slime had been poured through the hollow of my bones where the
-marrow should be. It was as the noise of the whistling of a fine
-whip-lash, mingled with the whirr of a locust magnified a hundred
-times, and ended in an abrupt clacking noise thrice repeated.
-
-At once I remembered where I had heard it before, because, having
-once heard the hiss of an aroused and angry serpent, no child of Eve
-can ever forget it.
-
-The sound that now came from between Toppan’s teeth and that filled
-the arena from wall to wall, was the sound that I had heard once
-before in the Paris Jardin des Plantes at feeding-time--the sound
-made by the great constrictors, when their huge bodies are looped
-and coiled like a _reata_ for the throw that never misses, that
-never relaxes, and that no beast of the field is built strong enough
-to withstand. All the filthy wickedness and abominable malice of the
-centuries since the Enemy first entered into that shape that crawls
-was concentrated in that hoarse, whistling hiss--a hiss that was
-cold and piercing, like an icicle-made sound. It was not loud, but
-had in it some sort of penetrating quality that cut through the
-waves of horrid sounds about us, as the snake-carved prow of a
-Viking galley might have cut its way through the tumbling eddies of
-a tide-rip.
-
-At the second repetition the lions paused. None better than they
-knew what was the meaning of that hiss. They had heard it before in
-their native hunting-grounds in the earlier days of summer, when the
-first heat lay close over all the jungle like the hollow of the palm
-of an angry god. Or if they themselves had not heard it, their sires
-before them had, and the fear of the thing bred into their bones
-suddenly leaped to life at the sound and gripped them and held them
-close.
-
-When for a third time the sound sung and shrilled in their ears,
-their heads drew between their shoulders, their great eyes grew
-small and glittering, the hackles rose and stiffened on their backs,
-their tails drooped, and they backed slowly to the further side of
-the cage and cowered there, whining and beaten.
-
-Toppan wiped the sweat from the inside of his hands and went into
-the cage with the keepers and gathered up the panting, broken body,
-with its twitching fingers and dead, white face and ears, and
-carried it out. As they lifted it, the handful of pitiful medals
-dropped from the shredded, gray coat and rattled down upon the
-floor. In the silence that had now succeeded, it was about the only
-sound one heard.
-
-                 *       *       *       *       *
-
-As we sat that evening on the porch of Toppan’s house, in a
-fashionable suburb of the city, he said, for the third time: “I had
-that trick from a Mpongwee headman,” and added: “It was while I was
-at Victoria Falls, waiting to cross the Kalahari Desert.”
-
-Then he continued, his eyes growing keener and his manner changing:
-“There is some interesting work to be done in that quarter by some
-one. You see, the Kalahari runs like this”--he drew the lines on the
-ground with his cane--“coming down in something like this shape from
-the Orange River to about the twentieth parallel south. The aneroid
-gives its average elevation about six hundred feet. I didn’t cross
-it at the time, because we had sickness and the porters cut. But I
-made a lot of geological observations, and from these I have built
-up a theory that the Kalahari is no desert at all, but a big,
-well-watered plateau, with higher ground to the east and west. The
-tribes, too, thereabout call the place ‘Linoka-Noka’ and that’s the
-Bantu for rivers upon rivers. They’re nasty, though, these Bantu,
-and gave us a lot of trouble. They have a way of spitting little
-poisoned thorns into you unawares, and your tongue swells up and
-turns blue and your teeth fall out and----”
-
-His wife Victoria came out on the porch in evening-dress.
-
-“Ah, Vic,” said Toppan, jumping up, with a very sweet smile, “we
-were just talking about your paper-german next Tuesday, and _I_
-think we might have some very pretty favors made out of white
-tissue-paper--roses and butterflies, you know.”
-
-
-
-
-THE RACE BOND
-
-By Gwendolen Overton
-
-
-The whistle of the steamer saluted three times--twice short and once
-long--the sun which rose over the deep green mountains of Costa
-Rica. The signal was answered in due time. A small tug put off from
-the long iron pier. There was a launch at the end of its tow line, a
-big, flat scow of a lighter. It came out across the smooth
-mother-of-pearl stretch of water, jerking and bobbing over the great
-Pacific swells. The tug shot by the steamer, the launch threw loose
-the tow line, and as it came alongside the forward cargo hatchway, a
-_lanchero_ pitched another rope up to the boatswain.
-
-There followed delay. There must of necessity follow delay when the
-crews and captains of launches are West Coast natives--Mexican
-stevedores at the very best--and most of the sailors on the steamers
-the same. The first-officer, down on the main deck, gave orders,
-there was a creaking of hawsers on the strain, the rattle and squeal
-of blocks and tackle, and the rumble of moving freight in one of the
-forward cargo-spaces. The captain, immaculate in ducks, came out
-from his cabin. He went to the rail and looked over at La Libertad,
-where the white and red of its long, low houses showed clear in the
-daybreak among the glistening palms. Then he looked down. There were
-eight or ten _lancheros_ in the lighter helping to confuse the very
-simple process of making her fast, or perched upon the gunwale
-observing with the vague placidity of their kind.
-
-The captain had no opinion of Central American natives of any sort,
-much less of _lancheros_. He considered these ones with rather more
-than usual disgust.
-
-“What’s the matter with them fellows in that launch, Marsden,” he
-inquired of the first-officer.
-
-Marsden was peering down into the black hole of the hold. He drew
-away and looked up to the rail of the hurricane deck. “Played out,
-sir,” he told him; “they were loading the _San Benito_ until she put
-out last night at eleven.”
-
-The captain had no sympathy for them on that, or any other score.
-His eye was without mercy, as he took stock of them again.
-“Hullo--one of them is white,” he said. It was meant, as before, for
-the first-officer, but it was entirely audible to the _lancheros_.
-
-The first-officer looked over into the launch, and the man who was
-white looked up at him. Then the first-officer turned away. “Yes,
-sir,” he said.
-
-He walked to the hatchway edge. “Quartermaster,” he called. A voice
-from the hold answered him. “Send up those boxes of nails first,” he
-ordered.
-
-There followed a banging in the cargo-space, the boatswain’s whistle
-began its shrill little calls, which would keep up all day, a donkey
-engine puffed, and a windlass rattled in the bowels of the ship; the
-big hook on the end of its rope swung down the hatchway, and
-presently a net-sling full of boxes was hoisted and deposited on the
-main deck.
-
-“T. S. & Co., over X, one--Garcia, three times--Y in a diamond, two
-times--J. S. & Co., over X, four.” The first-officer marked the
-boxes with his chalk as he called their address and number, the
-checky for the port authorities and the freight-clerk for the ship
-kept tally and record in their own books; the net drew taut again at
-the boatswain’s whistle, and the first load of cargo swung overside
-and was lowered into the launch.
-
-The first-officer went to the side and watched it. It was the white
-man who unhooked the sling, who spilled out the boxes, and sent the
-sling back empty, all with a promptness that no native _lancheros_
-could have hoped, or would have dreamed of, attempting to attain.
-These looked rather more than usually dead and alive. Nominally, he
-was not the _capitan_ of the launch, but it was clear that he was
-the self-constituted boss of it. The captain of the steamer said as
-much--“Must make their heads swim, that fellow.”
-
-The mate answered “Yes, sir,” again; but another net full of boxes
-was coming up. He went back to them. “J. S. & Co. over X, two
-times--Y in a diamond, one,” he called. The checky and the
-freight-clerk registered; and the work of the day was well under
-way.
-
-But in spite of the one white man in the launch below it did not go
-with the speed the mate would have desired. The crew of the
-alternating launch was demoralized and worthless to the last degree.
-“Half dead--and it’s a _fiesta_ besides, so they’re half drunk,
-too,” he remarked upon it to the captain. He pushed his cap back
-with the visor on his crown, and ran across his wet forehead the
-sleeve of a coat which had begun the day white. It was two o’clock
-of an October afternoon, and the heat was one of these things the
-fullness whereof can only be realized from having been experienced,
-which mere imagination is powerless to present.
-
-The _lancheros_ were fumbling aimlessly at a load of steel rails.
-There was no white man in this lighter, and the management of it
-showed as much. Three rails were swung clashing together down on
-some crates that smashed like match-boxes under them. The mate
-raised his shoulders. It was not his business--so long as the
-breakage was not done on the ship, he was not accountable for it.
-Checky and the _capitan_ of the “lanch” could settle that on shore.
-
-“What’s in those crates?” the captain inquired.
-
-“Merchandise--breakable,” answered the first-officer, cheerfully.
-
-“Brutes,” commented the captain. He gave expression to his views on
-black-and-tan _lancheros_ in general.
-
-The mate nodded. He bent over the hatchway. “Quartermaster,” he
-called, “send up somebody with a marlinspike to mend this sling.”
-Then he went over and looked down into the launch. “_Despacio
-abajo_, hurry up--eh?” he shouted by way of suggestion to four
-_lancheros_ who were pulling two ways on every rail, and had managed
-to drop into the water a rope sling, which it was affording them
-much concern and confusion, and the others much chattering and
-amusement, to fish out again.
-
-Marsden did not appear to be in a communicative mood, but the
-captain was oblivious to moods after the manner of the insistently
-good-humored and talkative.
-
-“It must be infernally unpleasant for that white fellow to work with
-the dogs,” he opined.
-
-“I expect so,” said Marsden. It was not a tone encouraging a
-pursuance of the subject. But the captain did not know it.
-
-“The _capitan_ won’t stand his bossing some time,” he kept it up;
-“there’ll be a row, and the whole crew’ll take only too much
-pleasure in sticking their knives into him. He looks steady. Must be
-in a pretty bad way to come to that. Don’t know that I ever saw a
-white man in the fix along here before. He’d better get out of it
-while his skin’s whole.”
-
-“Wonder who he is?” he asked, presently. It was in the nature of an
-inquiry addressed to no one in general, and the mate in particular.
-The mate did not answer. He was concerning himself about a delay in
-the hold, and called down some orders which were superfluous, in
-view of the fact that the boatswain had just gone scuttling down the
-ladder to attend to things himself.
-
-The captain, however, was not put off. He had nothing to do. “Do you
-know?” he asked, when the mate came below him again.
-
-“Know what, sir?” Marsden was thinking his own thoughts. He had not
-paid much attention.
-
-“Who that fellow is?”
-
-“Man named Stanwood,” said the first-officer, and he tried to head
-the captain off by another order to the hold. It was accompanied by
-profanity. The delay was nobody’s fault, but, as is frequently the
-case, the oaths expended in one direction were inspired from
-another.
-
-It was a pity the captain couldn’t go aft and work a reckoning, or
-talk to the passengers. Not that he objected to the captain. The
-captain was a very good sort. It was the topic Marsden disliked.
-
-“Stanwood--rather imposing for a _lanchero_ in there with all them
-black brutes, aint it? Not that he’s any cleaner, though. Who told
-you it was that?”
-
-“Nobody,” said Marsden; “I know it.”
-
-It broke in upon the captain then that he was being discouraged.
-“Oh!” he said. There followed a pause. “You’d better have a new rope
-through that block there when you’re ready to hoist those iron
-chimney stacks.”
-
-“Yes, sir,” answered the mate. The captain strolled off to the
-quarter-deck to watch the second-steward fishing for sharks.
-
-But time was not hanging heavy on Marsden’s hands. There was a look
-of bad weather, and if they were to get off that night, as might
-prove highly desirable, there had got to be a lot more hustling than
-the _lancheros_ seemed capable of.
-
-The launch alongside had about all it could carry, and its _capitan_
-was calling for the tug, the soft, mournful note of his conch shell
-floating over the water to the shore. Marsden, by way of losing no
-time himself, ran up to the hurricane-deck and on to the bridge, and
-the whistle screeched across the blue-green of the sea, glinting in
-the sun, across the little port among its palms, and beyond through
-the lush jungle of the piling mountains, where the trees and vines
-and undergrowth matted in the moist, breathless temperature of a
-green-house. There were black clouds piling up behind the mountains,
-and rolling low into the great cañons and clefts of palm and fern
-trees. Marsden eyed them as he went below again.
-
-The launch alongside was loaded and sent adrift, to be picked up by
-the tug and towed back to the wharf. The tug was bringing out the
-other one--the one in which Stanwood was of the crew. Marsden wished
-that he were not. A man may have been your enemy. He may have
-brought about your finish. You may have thought for years that
-nothing could be too bad for him. But all the same--if he is a white
-man, one of your own kind, be he never so much of a scoundrel, it is
-not good to see him working among Central American _lancheros_,
-under a _capitan_ of the same breed. It is a trifle too low. He is
-one of your own race, after all, and it hits you through the race.
-
-Marsden stood considering, keeping his balance as the ship rolled,
-at an angle of forty-five degrees to the line of the deck, backward
-or forward, according as she went to weather or to lee. It would
-have taken quite all the attention of a landsman to manage the feat
-at any effort, and with that he would probably have gone upon his
-skull or his nose. But Marsden was not even thinking about it. He
-was thinking of the time that Stanwood had bribed a Guatemala high
-official--with money already a long way from clean--and had thereby
-established in that misgoverned little country his altogether
-baseless claim to Marsden’s own sugar _finca_ and refinery. It was
-the kind of thing that can be, and is constantly being, done south
-of twenty-three. And all your American citizenship can not avail to
-save you; rather, in fact, the other way--one of the mishaps of
-which you take your chance when you go to those countries to make a
-fortune, away from the hustle of colder climes. But it had been a
-blackguardly trick, nevertheless. And it had done for Marsden
-financially for good and all. He had thought himself in luck
-afterward to get the opportunity to ship to San Francisco on a P. M.
-steamer as a hand. He had been down to his last _real_ then.
-
-It had done for him in other ways, too. Even now that he had got his
-master’s license, and worked up by quick stages to
-first-mate--well--his people on the other side of the continent
-lived a different sort of life, went in for another and more
-conventional style of thing. So did the people of the girl he had
-meant to make mistress of his beautiful sugar plantation. He had
-been in love with her since his school-days at home--pretty much
-ever since he could remember, so far as that went. But it had
-obviously been out of the question to expect her to marry a
-deck-hand. He had stopped writing to her before long. It had been
-better for her. As for himself--it didn’t matter much. His own life
-was very thoroughly spoiled, anyway. And the girl had married--a man
-of her own sort, which he himself had ceased to be.
-
-He owed all that to Stanwood. He owed a good deal to Stanwood. He
-had always intended to pay it some day, too--at the first chance
-that should present itself. Was this the chance? Perhaps.
-
-Evidently wrong-doing had not prospered Stanwood. He had probably
-come out with that degraded, dirty gang, in that “lanch” which stunk
-of bilge water and other filth beyond a white man’s stomach almost,
-for no other reason than to get an opportunity to stow, or to ask a
-passage up--as Marsden himself had been obliged to ask five years
-before. He would not try it now, of course. He had nerve enough for
-about anything, but hardly enough for that. He would have to wait at
-least a week for another ship and another first-officer.
-
-It happened, nevertheless, that Marsden wanted another sailor. At
-the last port, Corinto, one of his men had gone ashore to see one of
-the sick mothers he kept along the coast, and that had been the last
-seen of _him_. Marsden was anxious to fill the vacancy, but Stanwood
-should not have it. He could work with the launch gang a while
-longer. It was small enough punishment for his misdeeds.
-
-The launch swung alongside. Stanwood was in her. He was having an
-altercation with the _capitan_, too, and the _capitan_ had been
-taking more _tequila_, apparently. It would be the course of wisdom
-for the Gringo _lanchero_ to hold his peace and his tongue, if he
-were not looking for a speedy exit from a bad sort of life. The
-_capitan_ and his gang would like nothing better than severally and
-collectively to stick knives into him.
-
-Once again the launch went off, discharged her cargo, and came back
-for another load. This time it was before the other launch was quite
-ready to be towed away, so she made fast, bow and stern, to her, and
-the idle _lancheros_ fell to eating some food they had brought with
-them as they waited. They crouched together in a group, getting a
-good deal of fun out of it. There were the inevitable _frijoles_ and
-bread and bottled coffee, and there was besides a most unwonted
-treat, a leg of mutton. They passed it from one to the other, and
-each gnawed at it with his gleaming teeth, grinning over the game.
-
-Stanwood crouched among them. But he was not having fun out of it.
-He was not grinning. He scooped up the common mess of black beans
-with scraps of crust. He was ragged and dirty as they were. But he
-did not take his degradation with their good humor. He looked sullen
-and lean and hungry.
-
-Marsden watched him. It was not a pleasant sight, and he felt a kind
-of sick disgust and pity. But he wanted to see if the bone of meat
-would go to the white man in the end, and if the white man would
-take it. It came to the last of the natives. He picked it all but
-clean with a show of keen enjoyment. There were a few shreds left.
-He examined them. Then, with the insolence of a base breed having
-the upper hand, he tossed it over at Stanwood. It struck him on the
-chest. Marsden could see the killing hate in his eyes, and the
-shutting of his teeth under the ragged black beard. Then--and he was
-conscious of a deep relief--he saw him pick up the bone, stand in
-the scow, and drop it over into the water.
-
-Marsden turned away. It was not only of relief that he was
-conscious, but of a killing hate of the half-breed _lancheros_ equal
-to Stanwood’s own, as well.
-
-The clouds which, at noon, had been rising behind the mountains and
-dropping dark into the valleys and cañons, had spread half over the
-sky. There was a low, whining wind, growing steadily stronger. And
-the seven thousand miles of sea stretching unbroken to the west was
-sending in heavier ground swells to the open harbor. The steamer
-went heaving from side to side. Even the sailors were finding it not
-always easy to keep their footing. And it was now that the great
-iron chimney stacks had to be brought up. It would not have been a
-small matter at the best. At present it was extremely dangerous. The
-loaded lighter had gone off. The tackle had been changed on the
-block of the foremost derrick to new hemp, yellow and strong.
-
-There was the huge clangor and rumble of hollow iron striking
-against iron down in the cargo-space. The mate had taken out his own
-whistle. The responsibility was too great to be intrusted to
-subordinates here. He shrilled one order after another, or shouted
-them in nautical English and strange Spanish, and they were answered
-from the depths of the hold. The monster tube rolled into the
-opening guided by a man naked to the waist, on whose brown torso,
-swelling with muscles, the sweat rolled and glistened. The stack
-rose slowly upward--roaring its vast basso protests as it
-struck--fifty feet long, a yard in diameter, heavy, unwieldy,
-plunging as the ship rolled to starboard, down and down, and back to
-port, down and down again.
-
-It was a formidable thing, all but unmanageable even there. But once
-clear of the hatchway it flung itself, charging and swinging and
-threshing, with the great iron bellow of warning. The sailors jumped
-from its way. There was only the mate to handle it. The ship gave a
-heavy lurch to starboard. The chimney whirled and lunged toward him
-with a vibrating song of onslaught, and the voice of the white man
-in the launch below called an involuntary “Look out!” An instant of
-the hesitation of fear and the mate would have been struck overboard
-by all the force of the great cylinder of iron. But he put out his
-hand and pushed it, and it swung off harmlessly enough, as docile as
-it was formidable.
-
-The little whistle shrilled, the derrick moved its long arm around
-and out, and the stack hung overside, directly above the launch. The
-_lancheros_ had retreated to the sides, ready to scramble out of the
-way, or to jump overboard, if need should be. They stood looking up
-at it uneasily. If the rope were to break or slip, if the mate were
-to give a wrong order----
-
-Suddenly the steamer came over to starboard with a deep roll, and
-the great stack dropped with her. The mate saw the chance of mishap.
-His whistle piped a sharp, quick order to hoist. The _lancheros_
-cowered, their arms over their heads--all but Stanwood. He stood
-watching a chance. The stack swung and whirled, gigantic and awful,
-not a foot above his reach. But the rope had been just too short.
-The ship heaved back, and with a reverberation of metal thunder as
-it struck against the hull, the cylinder swung up again.
-
-Courage came back to the _capitan_ of the lighter then, and with it
-all his powers of mean impertinence. He shouted up curses at the
-first-officer. They were vile, as curses can only be vile in that
-“language of prayer.” And the first-officer understood them
-perfectly. But he had no time to take notice of them. The ship had
-got to get off that night. And the stacks had got to be unloaded.
-But it was far from simple to get even this first one lowered into
-the launch. Several times they dropped it almost to its place, then,
-because the empty scow bobbed one way in a swell, and the ship
-another, it had to be hoisted once more. And once the windlass
-refused to work at a signal. There was a delay until it could be
-repaired. The _capitan_ of the _lancheros_ waxed more impertinent
-and abusive; the _tequila_ with which he had been refreshing himself
-on shore was beginning to take its violent effect. In the absorption
-of his abuse of the ship and all its crew, he forgot to order his
-own men. The stack was coming down once again, with a fair chance of
-landing squarely in the bottom at last--if the _lancheros_ should be
-quick enough at guiding it. But they were doing nothing, frightened
-half out of their little available senses. And their _capitan_ was
-yelling foul words aloft. It was a critical instant. The white
-_lanchero_ knew it. He gave an order. It was all the men needed--a
-head. They made to obey. But the boss, in the madness of _tequila_,
-turned on his white hand. Was _he_ the _capitan_? Was _he_ in
-command? He had the signal conch shell in his hand. He brought it
-down with a cracking blow on Stanwood’s head.
-
-The first-officer, watching the critical descent of the iron monster
-with all his attention, saw Stanwood spring at the boss’s throat,
-saw the knives of the other _lancheros_ drawn, saw them swarming
-astern to the rescue of their fellow, ten of them against one. And
-the iron stack was swaying just above them. Another starboard
-roll--they would be crushed under it. And another moment lost and
-the Gringo would have ten knives in his neck and back. The little
-whistle shrilled sharply twice, and even as its order was obeyed and
-the windlass reversed, the first-officer was sliding overside down
-the manrope, had kicked himself off from the hull, and landed in the
-launch.
-
-It was a short fight. The first-officer had his six-shooter, the
-white _lanchero_ his knife, like another. The natives were fierce
-with blood lust, and the drunkenness of knife gleam and _tequila_.
-But it was a matter of coolness and of the dominant race. Before the
-captain on the hurricane-deck could run to his cabin for his
-carbine, it was over with. Two _lancheros_ had disabling bullet
-wounds, and the rest had retreated to the bow, all the flush of
-fight gone out of them, whipped and cringing and scared.
-
-The first-officer and the white _lanchero_ stood astern. They had
-been cut, and the ducks of the first-officer were red. Blood oozed
-through the _lanchero’s_ rags. He got breath for a moment clutching
-at the gunwale. Then he turned to the first-officer. “Thank you,” he
-said.
-
-Marsden looked at him, slowly, from his shaggy black hair to his
-bare feet. “Don’t mention it,” he answered. Then he looked up at the
-ship. “Unhook that stack for the present, and send down the chair
-for us,” he ordered, coolly.
-
-He considered his left arm. The blood was bubbling out just above
-the elbow. He knew what it meant. He had seen the thing before. It
-would be all right once a tourniquet should be put above it. But
-before that, before the doctor could get down in the chair, he would
-very likely faint. He was feeling light-headed already--and his eyes
-were glazing over. He shut his right hand hard above the wound.
-
-“You can’t stay with this, Stanwood,” he told the _lanchero_. His
-voice sounded to himself far away and dead. He was not altogether
-sure what he was saying. He glanced up. Away and away overhead in a
-vague distance of hot blue, the chair was beginning to lower. He
-must make haste. He spoke carefully, with precision, swaying
-unsteadily as the launch rolled.
-
-“We lost a man at Corinto,” he went on; “we--need an--other. You can
-ship to Frisco with us if----” he staggered, then caught himself,
-“if you--like.”
-
-The chair with the doctor touched the bottom of the scow. The
-first-officer had fallen, and was lying quite still. The white
-_lanchero_ was bending over him, clenching his two hands tight about
-the wounded arm.
-
-
-
-
-THE RAJAH’S NEMESIS
-
-By W. C. Morrow
-
-
-In my travels abroad I once encountered an extraordinary
-illustration of the shifts to which Nature will resort in her
-efforts to overcome the inconvenience arising from a deprivation of
-the tools with which she is accustomed to work; and the facts of the
-case are sufficiently peculiar and tragic to warrant their relation.
-
-I was summoned from Calcutta to proceed to the heart of India, being
-wanted by a certain rich and powerful rajah to perform a dangerous
-surgical operation upon one of the women of his household. I found
-the rajah to be a man of lofty character, noble and generous; but,
-as circumstances afterward developed, he was possessed of a sense of
-cruelty purely Oriental and in sharp contrast to the extreme
-indolence of his disposition. He was so grateful for the success
-which attended my mission that he urged me to remain his guest at
-the palace as long as it should please me to stay; and, as may be
-surmised, I thankfully accepted the invitation.
-
-One of his servants early attracted my notice, for he was a man of
-marvelous capacity of malice and vindictiveness. His name was
-Neranya, and I am certain that there must have been a large
-proportion of Malay blood in his veins; for, unlike the Indians
-(from whom he differed also in complexion), he was extremely active,
-alert, nervous, and sensitive. He had one redeeming trait, and that
-was love for his master.
-
-Once his violent temper led him to the commission of an atrocious
-crime--the fatal stabbing of a dwarf. In punishment for this the
-rajah ordered that Neranya’s right arm (the offending one) be
-severed from his body. The sentence was executed in rather a
-bungling fashion by a stupid fellow armed with an axe; and I, being
-a surgeon, was compelled, in order to save Neranya’s life, to
-perform a second amputation upon the stump of the arm, which left
-not a vestige of the limb remaining.
-
-Just here, as a possible partial explanation of the terrible and
-extraordinary things which followed, I must call intelligent
-attention to a matter which has long engaged my notice.
-
-We see that when one arm has been lost, the other acquires an
-unwonted dexterity, thus measurably compensating for the loss.
-Further, if both arms have been removed, an extraordinary nimbleness
-is exhibited in the feet, for they come to discharge to a
-considerable extent the functions of hands--to so great an extent
-that the toes display a power of prehension which one might suppose
-had not existed in them since our abandonment, in the evolutionary
-process, of the tree-climbing habit. Thus, with the toes an armless
-man may learn to hold a pen and to write, to load and fire a pistol,
-to cut food with a knife, and convey it to his mouth with a fork, to
-sew, and to do a hundred other useful things, and some which are
-purely ornamental, as painting, playing a harp, and the like. I once
-saw an armless man give his wife a sound thrashing with a rawhide
-whip.
-
-If, now, one of the legs be removed, the remaining foot will develop
-an almost redoubled capacity, its agility being marvelous. But
-suppose that this member, too, should be parted with--has Nature
-reached the end of her resources? Remember, the dexterity that she
-developed in those members which remained after the amputation of
-others was primarily of a character to take the place of that which
-enabled the others to minister to the needs of life. Granted that
-both arms and both legs are gone, has Nature, I have asked, reached
-the limit of her resources, in the accomplishment of an earnest and
-controlling purpose, praiseworthy or perverted?
-
-Let us inquire into the philosophy of the process by which this
-compensating dexterity is developed. It is easy for the scientists
-to tell us that this is done by the concentration of the will and
-the persistent exercise of the muscles in obedience thereto; but to
-my understanding this explanation is not sufficient. The principle
-of life, the amazing persistence of this principle, and the ways in
-which this persistence is maintained, are all inscrutable mysteries,
-necessarily and forever beyond our comprehension. It is the fashion
-of transcendentalism (not followed, however, by the greater
-scientists) to maintain that we have a spiritual, as well as a
-material, nature; and by evolution there has grown out of that
-belief another, that this spiritual nature is imperishable,
-indestructible--the fashionable, though inaccurate, term is
-“immortal.” The spirit is assumed to be the _ego_, the
-consciousness--that which fixes individuality and determines
-identity.
-
-Now, we know that mind is consciousness, and that the mind has its
-seat within the brain. But the brain is identical in its chemical,
-structural, molecular, and functional characteristics with the
-nerves which lead from it and ramify throughout the body; therefore
-the mind, and consequently the spirit, ramifies throughout the body;
-and hence it follows that if the spirit is indestructible and should
-be separated from the body (by death or otherwise) it must have the
-essential form and appearance of the body. The fact of our being
-unable to see it presents no obstacle to the argument; for we are
-unable to see countless things which we are certain exist. The
-argument thus put in logical shape may account, by unconscious
-synthetical reasoning, for the prevalent belief, seemingly inherent,
-that the spirit retains the form of the body after death; for there
-is no other conception of the human spirit’s form--we never imagine
-it as having the shape of a ball, or a comet, or a balloon, or a
-cloud, or as being formless.
-
-Then it must follow that, assuming the spirit to be indestructible
-and as having the form of the body, the amputation of a limb does
-not exterminate that part of the spirit which occupied that limb;
-but as the indivisibility of the spirit must be admitted as an
-essential factor of identity and individuality, that part of the
-spirit which had occupied the amputated limb must always be present
-in the place where the limb had been, and must there, in that place,
-possess all the consciousness and intelligence which belonged to it
-before the limb was amputated.
-
-This argument may be pursued to some astonishing conclusions which
-do not vitally concern the purposes of this relation. I might be
-asked, for instance, if the potentiality of a spirit is dependent
-upon its possession and control of a body, of what avail is it to
-speculate upon the unseparated existence of the spirit of an
-amputated limb? But there are some who declare that this dependence
-need not and does not always exist.
-
-This, it must be understood, is not the line of argument pursued by
-scientists, for they have a purely materialistic explanation for all
-the singular phenomena resulting from amputation; but are they not
-inconsistent? They admit the inscrutable mystery of the principle of
-life and all its countless corollaries, and yet they glibly explain
-the evidently marvelous results of a serious interference with the
-normal operation of that principle, as in the case of amputation. Is
-it not possible that there is danger of too much explanation of
-these wonderful mysteries?
-
-Let us proceed with the strange story of Neranya. After the loss of
-his arm, he developed an increased fiendishness, an augmented
-vindictiveness. His love for his master was changed to hate, and in
-his mad anger, he flung discretion to the winds. He was so unruly
-and violent in disposition that he could not conceal his feelings.
-The rajah, a proud, scornful man, increased Neranya’s hate by
-treating him with contempt and scorn, which had the effect of
-driving the wretch to frenzy. In a mad moment he sprang upon the
-rajah with a knife, but he was seized and disarmed. To his
-unspeakable dismay the rajah sentenced him for this offense to
-suffer amputation of the remaining arm. It was done as in the former
-instance.
-
-This had a temporary effect in curbing the man’s spirit, or rather
-in changing the outward manifestation of his diabolic nature. Being
-armless, he was at first largely at the mercy of those who
-ministered to his wants--a duty which I undertook to see was
-properly discharged, for I felt an interest in this horribly
-perverted and distorted nature. This sense of helplessness, combined
-with a damnable scheme for revenge which he had secretly formed,
-caused Neranya to change his fierce, impetuous, and unruly conduct
-into a smooth, quiet, insinuating manner, which he carried so
-artfully as not only to secure a peace and comfort which he had
-never known before, but also to deceive those with whom he was
-brought in contact, including the rajah himself.
-
-Neranya, being exceedingly quick, nimble, and intelligent, and
-having a tremendous will, turned his attention to the cultivation of
-dexterity in his legs, feet, and toes; and in due time he was able
-to perform wonderful feats with those members, such as I have
-noticed already. His capacity especially for destructive mischief
-was restored.
-
-One morning, the rajah’s only son, a young man of an exceedingly
-lovable and noble character, was found dead in bed. His murder was a
-singularly atrocious one, the body being mutilated in a sickening
-manner; but, in my eyes, the most significant of all the mutilations
-was _the entire removal and disappearance of the young man’s arms_.
-In the wild distraction which ensued in the palace upon the
-discovery of the mutilated body, the importance of that one fact was
-overlooked. It was the basis, however, of a minute investigation,
-which I made, and which, in time, led me to the discovery of the
-murderer.
-
-The murder of the young man nearly proved the death of the rajah,
-who was thrown into a serious illness, which required all my skill
-and attention to combat. It was not, therefore, until his recovery
-that there began a systematic and intelligent inquiry into the
-murder. I said nothing of my own discoveries and conclusions, and in
-no way interfered with the work of the rajah and his officers; but,
-after their efforts had failed and I had completed my own work, I
-submitted to the rajah a written report, making a close analysis of
-all the circumstances, and closing by charging Neranya with the
-murder. (I still have a copy of that singular report, and I regret
-that its length prevents its insertion here. It deals with unusual
-facts and is an illustration of the value of special knowledge and
-pure reason in the detection of crime.) My facts, arguments, and
-deductions were so convincing that the rajah at once ordered Neranya
-to be put to death, this to be accomplished by slow and frightful
-torture. The sentence was so cruel, so revolting, that it filled me
-with horror, and I implored that the wretch might be shot. Finally,
-purely through a sense of noble gratitude, the rajah yielded. When
-Neranya was charged with the crime, he denied it, of course; but,
-seeing that the rajah was convinced, and upon being shown my report
-(which embodied a knowledge of anatomy and surgery that he had never
-dreamed of), he threw aside all restraint, and, dancing, laughing,
-and shrieking in the most horrible manner, confessed his guilt and
-gloated over it--all this, believing that he would be shot on the
-morrow.
-
-During the night, however, the rajah changed his mind, and sending
-for me in the morning, informed me of his new decision. It was that
-Neranya’s life should be spared, but that both his legs should be
-crushed with heavy hammers and then that I should amputate both
-limbs as close to the trunk as possible! I was too much astounded to
-utter a protest; and, besides there was grounded within me that
-unyielding, and often inhuman, medical principle, which counts the
-saving of life at any cost the highest duty. I may add that,
-appended to this horrible sentence, was a provision for keeping the
-maimed wretch a prisoner and torturing him at regular intervals by
-such means as afterward might be devised.
-
-Sickened to the heart by the awful duty which confronted me, I
-nevertheless performed it with success, and I must pass over in
-silence the hideous details of the whole affair. Let it suffice to
-say that Neranya escaped death very narrowly, and that he was a long
-time in recovering his wonted vitality. During all these weeks the
-rajah neither saw him nor made inquiries concerning him, but when,
-as in duty bound, I made an official report that the man had
-recovered his strength, the rajah’s eyes brightened, and he emerged
-with deadly activity from the stupor of grief in which he so long
-had been plunged. He ordered certain preparations made for the
-future care of his now helpless victim.
-
-The rajah’s palace was a noble structure, but it is necessary here
-to describe only the grand hall. It was an immense room, with a
-floor of polished stone and a lofty arched ceiling. A subdued light
-stole into it through stained glass set in the roof and in windows
-on the sides. In the middle of the room was a fountain which threw
-up a tall, slender column of water in the centre, with smaller jets
-grouped around it. Across one end of the hall, half-way to the
-ceiling, was a balcony, which communicated with the upper story of a
-wing, and from which a flight of stairs descended to the stone floor
-of the hall. This room was kept at a uniform temperature, and during
-the hot summers it was delightfully cool. This was the rajah’s
-favorite lounging-place, and when the nights were hot, he had his
-cot brought hither and here he slept.
-
-This hall was chosen for Neranya’s permanent abiding-place; here was
-he to stay as long as he might live, without ever a glimpse of the
-face of nature or the glorious heavens. To one of his restless,
-nervous, energetic, discontented nature, the cruelty of such
-confinement was worse than death; but there was more yet of
-suffering in store for him, for at the rajah’s order there was
-constructed a small iron pen, in which Neranya was to be kept. This
-pen was circular and about four feet in diameter. It was elevated on
-four slender iron posts, ten feet from the floor, and was placed
-half-way between the fountain and the balcony. Around the edge of
-the pen was erected an iron railing, four feet high, but the top was
-left open for the convenience of the servants whose duty it should
-be to care for him. These precautions for his safe confinement were
-taken at my suggestion, for, although the man was deprived of all
-four of his limbs, I still feared that he might develop some
-extraordinary, unheard-of power for mischief. It was provided that
-the attendants should reach his cage by means of a movable ladder.
-All these arrangements having been made and Neranya hoisted into his
-prison, the rajah emerged upon the balcony to see him, and the two
-deadly enemies faced each other. The rajah’s stern face paled at the
-hideous sight which met his gaze, but he soon recovered, and the
-old, hard, cruel, sinister look returned. Neranya, by an
-extraordinary motion, had wriggled himself into an upright position,
-his back propped against the railing. His black hair and beard had
-grown long, and they added to the natural ferocity of his aspect.
-Upon seeing the rajah his eyes blazed with a terrible light, his
-lips parted, and he gasped for breath. His face was white with rage
-and despair, and his thin, distended nostrils quivered.
-
-The rajah folded his arms and gazed down upon the frightful wreck
-which he had made. Neranya returned the gaze with blazing eyes. Oh,
-the pathos of that picture, the inhumanity of it, the deep and
-dismal tragedy of it! Who might look into that wild, desperate heart
-and see and understand the frightful turmoil there, the surging,
-choking passions, unbridled but impotent ferocity, frantic thirst
-for a vengeance that should be deeper than hell! Neranya gazed, his
-shapeless body heaving, his eyes ablaze, and then, in a strong,
-clear voice which rang throughout the great hall, with rapid speech
-he hurled at the rajah the most insulting defiance, the most awful
-curses. He cursed the womb that conceived him, the food that
-nourished him, the wealth that brought him power; cursed him in the
-name of Buddha and all the prophets, in the name of heaven and of
-hell; cursed him by the sun, the moon, and the stars, by all
-continents, oceans, mountains, and rivers, by all things living;
-cursed his head, his heart, his entrails; cursed him in a furious
-outpouring of unmentionable words; heaped insults and contumely upon
-him; called him a knave, a beast, a fool, a liar, an infamous and
-damnable coward. Never had I heard such eloquence of defiance,
-curses, and vituperation; never had heard so terrible a
-denunciation, so frightful and impetuous an outflow of insults.
-
-The rajah heard it all calmly, without the movement of a muscle or
-the slightest change of countenance, and when the poor wretch had
-exhausted his strength and fallen helpless and silent to the floor,
-the rajah, with a grim, cold smile, turned and strode away.
-
-The days passed. The rajah, not deterred by Neranya’s curses often
-heaped upon him, spent even more time than formerly in the great
-hall, and slept there oftener at night, and finally Neranya, wearied
-of cursing and defying him, maintained a sullen silence. The man was
-a study for me, and I noticed every change in his fleeting moods.
-Generally his condition was one of miserable despair, which he
-attempted bravely to conceal. Even the boon of suicide had been
-denied him, for when he was erect the top of the rail was a foot
-above his head, and he could not throw himself over it and crush his
-skull on the stone floor below; and when he had tried to starve
-himself the attendants forced food down his throat, so that he
-abandoned such attempts. At times his eyes would blaze and his
-breath would come in gasps, for imaginary vengeance was working
-within him; but steadily he became quieter and more tractable, and
-was pleasant and responsive when I conversed with him. Whatever the
-tortures the rajah had decided upon, none had as yet been ordered,
-and although Neranya knew that they were in contemplation, he never
-referred to them or complained of his lot.
-
-The awful climax of this terrible situation was reached one night,
-and even after this lapse of years I can not approach a description
-of it without a shudder.
-
-It was a hot night, and the rajah had gone to sleep in the great
-hall of the palace, lying on a high cot. I had been unable to sleep
-in my apartment, and so I stole softly into the hall through the
-heavily curtained entrance at the end furthest from the balcony. As
-I did so, I heard a peculiar soft sound above the gentle patter of
-the fountain. Neranya’s cage was partly concealed from my view by
-the spraying water, but I suspected that the unusual sound came from
-him. Stealing a little to one side and crouching against the dark
-hangings of the wall, I could faintly see him in the dim light which
-illumined the hall, and then I discovered that my surmise was
-correct--Neranya was at work. Curious to learn more, I sank into a
-thick robe on the floor and watched him. My sight was keen and my
-eyes soon became accustomed to the faint, soft light.
-
-To my great astonishment Neranya was tearing off with his teeth the
-bag which served as his outer garment. He did it cautiously, casting
-sharp glances frequently at the rajah, who, sleeping soundly on his
-cot, breathed heavily. After starting a strip with his teeth,
-Neranya would by the same means attach it to the railing of his cage
-and then wriggle away, much after the manner of a caterpillar’s
-crawling, and this would cause the strip to be torn out the full
-length of his garment. He repeated this operation with incredible
-patience and skill until his entire garment had been torn into
-strips. Two or three of these he tied together with his tongue,
-lips, and teeth, and secured the ends in a similar way to the
-railing, thus making a short swing on one side. This done, he tied
-the other strips together, doubling some which were weak, and in
-this way he made a rope several feet in length, one end of which he
-made fast to the rail. It then began to dawn upon me that he was
-going to make an insane attempt--impossible of achievement without
-hands or feet, arms or legs--to escape from his cage! For what
-purpose? The rajah was asleep in the hall----! I caught my breath.
-Oh, the desperate, insane thirst for revenge which consumed the
-impotent, miserable Neranya! Even though he should accomplish the
-impossible feat of climbing over the railing of his cage and falling
-to the stone floor below (for how could he slide down the rope?), he
-would in all probability be killed or stunned; and even if he should
-escape these dangers it would be impossible for him to climb upon
-the cot without rousing the rajah, and impossible even though the
-rajah were dead! A man without arms or legs might descend by
-falling, he never could ascend by climbing. Amazed at his daring,
-and fully convinced that his sufferings had destroyed his reason, I
-watched him with breathless, absorbing interest.
-
-He caught the longer rope in his teeth at a point not far from the
-rail. Then, wriggling with great effort to an upright position, his
-back braced against the rail, he put his chin over the swing and
-worked toward one end. He tightened the grasp of his chin upon the
-swing, and, with tremendous exertion, working the lower end of his
-spine against the railing, he began gradually to ascend. The labor
-was so great that he was compelled to pause at intervals, and his
-breathing was hard and painful, and even while thus resting he was
-in a position of terrible strain, and his pushing against the swing
-caused it to press hard against his windpipe and nearly suffocate
-him.
-
-After amazing effort he elevated the lower end of his body until it
-protruded above the railing, the top of which was now across the
-lower end of his abdomen. Gradually he worked his body over, going
-backward, until there was sufficient excess of weight on the outer
-side, and then with a quick lurch he raised his head and shoulders
-and swung into a horizontal position. Of course, he would have
-fallen to the floor below had it not been for the rope which he held
-in his teeth. With such nicety had he calculated the distance
-between his mouth and the point of fastening, that the rope
-tightened and checked him just as he reached the horizontal position
-on the rail. If one had told me beforehand that such a feat as this
-man had accomplished was possible, I would have thought him a fool.
-I continued to watch with intense interest.
-
-Neranya was now balanced on his stomach across the top of the
-railing, and he eased his position somewhat by bending his spine and
-hanging down as much as possible. Having rested in this position for
-some minutes, he began cautiously to slide off, slowly paying out
-the rope through his teeth. Now, it is quite evident that the rope
-would have escaped from his teeth laterally when he slightly relaxed
-his hold to let it slip, had it not been for a very ingenious device
-to which he had resorted. This consisted in his having made a turn
-of the rope around his neck before he attached the swing, thus
-securing a three-fold control of the rope--one by his teeth, another
-by friction against his neck, and a third by his ability to compress
-it between his cheek and shoulder.
-
-A stupendous and seemingly impossible part of his task was
-accomplished. Could he reach the floor in safety? Gradually he
-worked himself backward over the rail, in momentary imminent danger
-of falling; but his nerve never quivered, and I could see a
-wonderful glitter in his eyes. With something of a lurch, his body
-fell against the outer side of the railing, and he was hanging by
-his chin. Slowly he worked his chin away and then hung suspended by
-the rope, his neck bearing the weight of his trunk. By almost
-imperceptible degrees, with infinite caution, he descended the rope,
-and finally his unwieldy body rolled upon the floor, safe and
-unhurt!
-
-What next? Was this some superhuman monster who had accomplished
-this impossible miracle? Would he immediately spring to invisible
-feet, run to the rajah’s bedside, and stab him with an invisible
-dagger held in an invisible hand? No; I was too philosophic for such
-mad thoughts; there was plenty of time for interference. I was quick
-and strong. I would wait awhile and see what other impossible things
-this monster could do.
-
-Imagine my astonishment when, instead of approaching the sleeping
-rajah, Neranya took another direction. Then it was only escape after
-all that the miserable wretch contemplated and not the murder of the
-rajah! But how could he escape? The only possible way to reach the
-outer air was by ascending the stairs to the balcony and leaving by
-the corridor, which opened upon it, and surely it was impossible for
-Neranya to ascend that long flight of stairs! Nevertheless, he made
-for the stairs. He progressed by lying on his back, with his face
-toward the point of destination, bowing his spine upward, and thus
-causing his head and shoulders to slip nearly an inch forward,
-straightening his spine and pushing forward the lower end of his
-back a distance equal to that which his head had advanced, each time
-pressing his head to the floor to keep it from slipping. His
-progress was slow, painful, and laborious, as the floor was
-slippery, rendering difficult the task of taking a firm hold with
-his head. Finally, he arrived at the foot of the stairs.
-
-It was at once manifest that his purpose was to ascend them. The
-desire for freedom must have been strong within him. Wriggling to an
-upright position against the newel-post, he looked up at the great
-height which he had to climb and sighed; but there was no dimming of
-the bright light in his eyes. How could he accomplish the impossible
-task before him?
-
-His solution of the problem was very simple. While leaning against
-the newel-post, he fell in a diagonal position and lay safe upon the
-bottom step on his side. Turning upon his back, he wriggled forward
-along the step the necessary few inches to reach the rail, scrambled
-to an upright, but inverted, position against the rail, and then
-fell and landed safely on the second step. This explains the manner
-in which, with inconceivable labor, he accomplished the ascent of
-the entire flight of stairs.
-
-It being evident that the rajah was not the object of Neranya’s
-movements, the anxiety which I had felt on that account was entirely
-dispelled, and I watched Neranya now only with a sense of absorbing
-interest and curiosity. The things which he had accomplished were
-entirely beyond the wildest imagination, and, in a sense, I was in a
-condition of helpless wonder. The sympathy which I had always felt
-for the unhappy man was now greatly quickened; and as small as I
-knew the chances of his ultimate escape to be, I nevertheless hoped
-that he would succeed. There was a bare chance that he would fall
-into the hands of the British soldiery not far away, and I inwardly
-prayed for his success. Any assistance from me, however, was out of
-the question; nor should it ever be known that I had witnessed the
-escape.
-
-Neranya was now upon the balcony, and I could dimly see him
-wriggling along as he slowly approached the door. The rail was low,
-and I could barely see him beyond it. Finally he stopped and
-wriggled to an upright position. His back was toward the hall, but
-he slowly turned around and faced me. At that great distance I could
-not distinguish his features, but the slowness with which he had
-worked, even before he had fully accomplished the ascent of the
-stairs, was evidence all too eloquent of his extreme exhaustion.
-Nothing but a most desperate resolution could have sustained him
-thus far, but he had about drawn upon the last remnant of his
-strength.
-
-He looked around the hall with a sweeping glance, and then upon the
-rajah, who was soundly sleeping immediately beneath him, over twenty
-feet down. He looked long and earnestly, sinking lower, and lower,
-and lower upon the rail. Suddenly, to my inconceivable astonishment
-and dismay, he toppled over and shot downward from his lofty height.
-I held my breath, expecting to see him crushed into a bloody mass on
-the stones beneath, but instead of that he fell full upon the
-rajah’s breast, crashing through the cot, and hurling him to the
-floor. I sprang forward with a loud cry for help, and was instantly
-at the scene of the disaster. Imagine my indescribable horror when I
-found that Neranya’s teeth were buried in the rajah’s throat! With a
-fierce clutch I tore the wretch away, but the blood was pouring out
-in torrents from the frightfully lacerated throat, the chest was
-crushed in, and the rajah was gasping in the death agony. People
-came running in, terrified. I turned to Neranya. He lay upon his
-back, his face hideously smeared with blood. Murder, and not escape,
-was his intention from the beginning; he had adopted the only plan
-by which there was a possibility of accomplishing it. I knelt beside
-him, and saw that he was dying--his back had been broken by the
-fall. He smiled sweetly into my face; and the triumphant look of
-accomplished revenge sat upon his face even in death.
-
-
-
-
-THE MAN-HUNTERS’ REWARD
-
-By Buckey O’Neill
-
-
-“That isn’t a bad reward!”
-
-“No; if a fellow could catch him, he would make pretty good wages.
-Let’s see,” and the second speaker began to read the postal-card
-that the postmaster at Hard Scrabble had just tacked to the door of
-the store that constituted the “office,” so that every one might
-read:
-
-                          TAKE HIM IN!
-
-    $500 Reward will be paid for the arrest and delivery of Rube
-    White to the sheriff of Yavapai County. He is about
-    twenty-five years old, six feet tall, and slim, with light
-    complexion, and has a big scar on the right side of his
-    face. He is wanted for robbery and other crimes. If killed
-    in resisting arrest the reward will be paid on satisfactory
-    proof of his identity. When last heard from was making for
-    the Tonto Basin country.
-
-By the time the reader had finished, a crowd of half a dozen or more
-men surrounded him.
-
-“Now, if that feller is headed for the Tonto Basin country, it
-wouldn’t be much of a trick to take him,” said the first speaker,
-reflectively, as if debating with himself the advisability of making
-the attempt.
-
-“If you hear me, he ain’t going to be taken in, and the feller that
-tries it is going to have his hands full. They have been after him
-for two or three years and aint got him yet. They say he’s right on
-the shoot,” remarked another of the crowd.
-
-“Well, a feller ought to know him as soon as he sees him, from that
-description,” hazarded the first speaker, “if he got up close enough
-to see the scar; and then all he’d have to do would be to turn loose
-at him if he didn’t throw up his hands when you told him. Besides,
-nobody but him would try to cross over the mountains into the basin
-with this snow on the ground. Blamed if I don’t think I’ll go after
-him.”
-
-“Well, somebody ought to round him up,” asserted some one in the
-crowd; “he’s been foolin’ roun’ hyah long enough, jes havin’ his own
-way, sorter as if the country belonged to him. Durned if I wouldn’t
-go with you, Hi, if I didn’t have to take this grub over to the boys
-in camp.”
-
-“Well, if any of you want to go, all right. I’m going,” replied the
-man addressed as Hi.
-
-It was not the first time that Hi Lansing had been on such
-expeditions. He was one of those men for whom danger seems to have a
-fascination. At his remark, Frank Crandall, a young fellow who had
-been standing quietly by, volunteered to accompany him. The crowd
-turned toward him with more interest than they had thus far evinced
-during the entire proceedings. It was but a few months since he had
-come among them, fresh from the East, to take charge of one of the
-mines which had been closed down by the winter’s storms. For weeks
-he had been cooped up in the isolated settlement, and he longed for
-something to break its monotony.
-
-“Well, get your horse and gun, and come,” replied Hi, and, in an
-instant, the two men had left the room to arm and equip themselves
-for the chase, while the loungers gathered around the stove to
-discuss the probabilities of their success. In a few minutes, the
-two men rode past the door, each armed with a rifle and six-shooter,
-and the crowd, stepping out, bade them good-by, with the
-oft-repeated warning: “Be keerful and don’t let him get the drop on
-ye.”
-
-The crust of the unbroken snow cracked crisply under foot as the two
-rode on fast, leaving the little settlement in their rear. For some
-time neither spoke; but, at last, the silence was broken by Lansing,
-asking his young companion: “Did you ever try this kind of thing
-before?”
-
-“No,” replied the young man; “I never have.”
-
-“Well, then, you want to be keerful. If you don’t lose yer head,
-you’re all right. The only danger is that we may run on him before
-we know it.”
-
-“And if we do, what then?” asked the young man.
-
-“Well, he will probably commence shooting, and if he does, and you
-arn’t hit the first rattle out of the box, why you want to git off’n
-your horse and git behind something and shoot back. If ther aint
-anything to git behind, keep your horse between you and him, and
-keep a-shooting. Whatever you do, don’t let go of your gun. But what
-we want to do is to see him first, and then we’ve got the play on
-him, and all you have to do is to tell him to throw up.”
-
-“And if he don’t throw up?” asked Crandall.
-
-“Why, then you let him have it. The reward will be paid just the
-same.”
-
-The apparent indifference with which Lansing spoke of the entire
-matter, much as if he were discussing the best method of hunting a
-wild animal, shocked the young man; but he had committed himself too
-far to withdraw. Besides he had that feeling that all men have when
-they are young--the curiosity to know whether or not he could rely
-on himself when danger threatened.
-
-“We should strike his trail on the hills here, if he is really
-headed for the basin country,” said Lansing. They had been riding
-for several hours in silence through the snow, unbroken by aught
-save the scattered pines that here and there dotted the mesa. Before
-them towered the mountains through whose passes the man whom they
-were after would have to pass in his search for safety in the
-half-settled wilds beyond.
-
-As the two men rode along, scanning in each direction the
-snow-covered mesa, Lansing suddenly wheeled his horse to the right,
-and when Crandall joined him he pointed to a narrow trail where two
-horses had passed through the snow.
-
-“That’s him. He’s driving one horse and leading another, and he
-hasn’t passed by very long, either. See, the snow hasn’t had time to
-drift in it,” said he.
-
-With the discovery his whole demeanor had changed. A new look came
-into his eyes, and his voice sounded strange. He even grasped his
-weapons in a manner different to that he had heretofore displayed.
-“He’s right ahead, and we want to look out,” the older man
-continued, as they began to follow the trail. As they approached the
-summit of each hill they would stop their horses, and Lansing would
-dismount and crawl to the top so that he might look, without being
-discovered, into the valley beyond, in order that they might not
-come on the fugitive too suddenly.
-
-They had traveled this way for several miles, when, reining in his
-horse, Lansing pointed to what seemed an old road leading off to the
-right of the one they were following, and said: “That’s the
-‘cut-off’ into the basin. I thought he would take it, but he
-probably doesn’t know the country. You had better take it and ride
-on ahead until you strike the road we’re on again. Then if you can’t
-find his tracks, you had better ride back to meet me until you do. I
-will follow the trail up.”
-
-The young man tried to expostulate with Lansing for the great risk
-he was assuming, in thus following the trail alone, but his
-companion was obdurate, and, cutting the argument short by again
-warning the young man to be on his guard, he rode on, following the
-trail in the snow, while the younger man, finding objection useless,
-took the “cut-off” road. He had no difficulty in following it, and
-he wondered why the man they were in pursuit of had not taken
-advantage of it. The whole pursuit seemed almost like a dream to
-him. The snow, unbroken save by his horse’s footfall, stretched away
-mile after mile in every direction, with here and there a pine
-through whose branches the wind seemed to sob and sigh, making the
-only noise that broke the stillness of the wintry afternoon. It
-added to this feeling. Not a thing in sight. He began to depict in
-his own mind the manner of man they were pursuing. He had almost
-forgotten his name. After all, what had the man done that he, Frank
-Crandall, should be seeking his blood? Perhaps, like himself, the
-man had a mother and sisters to grieve over any misfortune that
-would overtake him. These and a hundred kindred thoughts passed
-through his mind. The sun was fast declining as he passed from the
-“cutoff” into the main road again. The air was getting chilly with
-the coming of evening, and the snow in the distance took on colors
-of pink and purple where the rays of the setting sun touched the
-mountain peaks. He scanned the main road eagerly to see if the man
-they were in pursuit of had passed, but the snow that covered it was
-unbroken. Then he rode back on the main road, in the direction from
-which he had come, to meet his comrade and the fugitive. He had just
-ascended one of the many rolling hills, when, in the distance, he
-discovered a man riding one horse and driving another. At the sight
-his heart almost stood still. He dismounted, and leading his horse
-to one side, concealed him in a clump of young pines. Then he
-returned to the road-side and waited. The man was urging his horses
-forward, but they seemed to be wearied, and made but slow progress.
-Crandall felt his heart beat faster and faster at the length of time
-it took the man to reach him. He examined his revolver and rifle,
-cocking each, to see that they were in order. It seemed to relieve
-the tension of his nerves. After he had done this, he knelt down so
-that he could fire with surer aim, and waited. He did not care much
-now whether the man resisted or not. If the fugitive resisted, he
-would have to stand the consequence of resistance. It was nothing to
-him. He could hear the footfall of the approaching horses in the
-snow, and he cocked his rifle so as to be ready. The setting sun
-shone full in the man’s face, but Crandall forgot to look for the
-scar that the notice had said was on the right cheek, although he
-had resolved to do so particularly. When he first discovered the
-fugitive, he scanned the road behind him to discover Lansing, but
-the nearer the man approached, the less Crandall cared whether
-Lansing came or not. He let the man approach nearer and nearer, so
-that his aim would be the more accurate. He could not afford to
-throw away the first shot. The face of the man grew more and more
-distinct. He seemed to be oblivious to his surroundings. Crandall
-felt almost disposed to let him pass, but the thought that every one
-would think him a coward if he did so, spurred him on, and, rising
-erect, he ordered the man to surrender. The horse that the man was
-driving in front of him, frightened at Crandall’s appearance,
-swerved from the road, leaving the two men facing each other. For an
-instant, Crandall looked straight into the other’s eyes. Then the
-man raised his rifle from the pommel of the saddle, and Crandall
-fired. The horse which the man was riding sprang from the road, and,
-at the same moment, its rider’s gun was discharged. The smoke from
-Crandall’s own gun blew back into his eyes, and he turned from it to
-follow the movements of the man at whom he had fired. As he saw the
-man still erect in his saddle, he felt the feverish haste to fire
-again come over him that men feel when they have shot and missed,
-and know that their life may be the forfeit of their failure. He
-threw another cartridge into the chamber of his rifle, and raised it
-to his shoulder, but before he could fire, the man reeled from his
-saddle and fell, while his frightened horse galloped off through the
-pines.
-
-Crandall stepped toward him, holding his rifle prepared to fire
-again, if necessary. As he did so, the man raised his hand and said,
-simply: “Don’t fire--you’ve got me.”
-
-The snow was already red with blood where he lay. For the first
-time, Crandall looked for the scar that the description said was on
-the right cheek. For an instant he did not see it, and his heart
-seemed to stop beating with the fear of having made a mistake, and
-when, on drawing nearer, he saw that it was there, that only the
-pallor which had spread over the man’s face had made it indistinct,
-he could have cried out with joy at the feeling of relief that
-passed over him.
-
-“Are you badly wounded?” he asked.
-
-“I don’t know how bad it is. It is here somewhere,” the man said,
-placing his hand on his breast, as if not certain of the exact spot.
-“It feels numb-like,” he added. Stooping down, Crandall unbuckled
-and took off the man’s pistol-belt and threw it into the snow, where
-lay his rifle, and then he tore open the man’s shirt. As he did so
-his fingers came in contact with the warm blood, and he
-involuntarily drew back, with a feeling of disgust.
-
-“Did you find it?” asked the man, who was watching him closely, and
-who had observed the movement.
-
-Recalled to himself by the question, Crandall again tore at the
-shirt, exposing the breast. Where the blood did not cover it, it
-looked like marble, despite the dark hair on it. He could not see
-the wound, on account of the blood, until he had wiped the latter
-from the breast, and then he found it.
-
-“What do you think of it?” the man asked.
-
-“There it is,” replied Crandall. He could not say more. The
-appealing tone in the man’s voice for some hope--some
-encouragement--made him feel faint and sick.
-
-“What do you think of it?” the man repeated, in a querulous voice,
-and, as he did so, he coughed until his mouth filled with blood, and
-he spat it out on the white snow.
-
-Crandall shook his head and walked toward where his horse was tied.
-He felt that if he watched the wounded man any longer he would
-faint. Noticing his walking away, the wounded man said: “For God’s
-sake, don’t leave me. Now that you have killed me, stay with me, and
-don’t let me die like a dog.”
-
-The voice was one of entreaty, and Crandall returned and seated
-himself in the snow by the man’s side. The sun had gone down, and
-the twilight had come on, bringing with it the chill of night.
-Crandall covered the wounded man’s body with his overcoat, and
-raised his head from the snow. Almost unconsciously he noted that as
-the patch of red made by the blood grew larger and larger, the face
-of the wounded man grew whiter and whiter. He never took his eyes
-from Crandall’s face, while his breath came quicker and shorter, as
-if he breathed with labor. With each breath the blood seemed to
-bubble from the wound in the breast. One of the man’s hands fell
-from under the coat that covered him. As Crandall raised it from the
-snow, its coldness sent a chill through him. Once he had asked the
-wounded man if he could do anything for him; but the man had only
-shaken his head in reply. Crandall felt like reviling himself for
-what he had done, and wondered why the wounded man did not reproach
-him. Even when he expressed his sorrow at having shot him, the dying
-man had said, gently: “Don’t mind it. It’s too late now.”
-
-The twilight gave way to darkness, and still he sat there. He could
-not hear the dying man breathe without leaning over his face. He did
-not do this but once, though, and then the dying man had opened his
-eyes and looked up into his face, inquiringly. Crandall would rather
-have stayed there until morning than to have caught that look again.
-
-Suddenly he heard a voice call to him. He started as if he had been
-fired at, but it was only Lansing. As he answered the call, Lansing
-rode forward and, seeing the outstretched form on the snow, said:
-“By God, you got him!”
-
-“Hush!” replied Crandall, fearful lest the wounded man would hear
-the exulting tone which grated on his own ears as nothing had ever
-before done. But not minding the admonition, Lansing dismounted, and
-striking a match held it close to the man’s face. It was pale and
-cold, and the half-opened eyes were glazed. They did not even
-reflect the light made from the match, but from the partly opened
-mouth a tiny stream of half-congealed blood seemed to be still
-flowing down over the beard.
-
-“That’s him, and it’s a pretty good day’s work we have done by
-earning that reward,” said Lansing, coolly, as the match went out.
-
-Somehow, though, as Crandall lay awake through the night, within a
-few yards of the body, to keep the wolves from it so that it would
-be unmarred in the morning when they would lash it to a horse and
-take it into the settlements for identification, he wondered why
-Lansing could sleep so soundly. As for himself, the rigid form,
-covered with only a saddle-blanket, lying where the snow was red
-instead of white, was always before his eyes, even when he closed
-them.
-
-
-
-
-CONSCIENCE MONEY
-
-By Geraldine Bonner
-
-
-In January the darkness settles early in Paris. It was not yet five,
-and it was closing in, soft and sudden. This particular night it was
-rendered denser by the light rain that was falling--one of those
-needle-pointed, noiseless rains that come in the midst of a Paris
-winter and persist for days.
-
-Celia Reardon came home through it, letting her skirts flap against
-her heels. The package of sketches she had not sold to the dealer on
-the Rue Bonaparte was under her arm. From beneath the dark tent of
-her umbrella she looked straight before her down the vista of the
-street, glistening and winking from its lamps and windows. The
-light, striking clearly on her face, revealed it as small, pale, and
-plain, with a tight line of lip, and eyes sombrely staring at
-nothing. She made no attempt to lift her sodden skirt or avoid
-puddles.
-
-Walking heavily forward through the early dusk, she was advancing to
-meet the giant Despair.
-
-This was on her mind, and, to the observant eye, in her face. Celia
-knew of only one way to evade the approaching giant. It was by the
-turn that led to the river. Many people, in their terror at his
-approach, took this turn. She had seen them in the morgue in the
-days when she was new to Paris, and went about seeing the sights
-like a tourist.
-
-After the dealer on the Rue Bonaparte had given her back the
-sketches, telling her it was impossible to sell them, she had turned
-downward toward the _quais_, and came out there, under the skeleton
-trees, where the book-stalls line the wall. The dark, slumberous
-current of the river swept by under the gemmed arches of its
-bridges. It was carrying away all the foul and useless things of the
-day’s tumultuous life, all going helter-skelter, pell-mell, to the
-oblivion of the sea.
-
-She thought of herself going with them, whirling about in the
-currents, serenely indifferent to everything that tortured her now.
-The thought had a creeping fascination. She drew nearer, staring
-down at the water, stabbed with hundreds of quivering lights, and
-saw herself--a face, a trail of hair, a few folds of eddying
-drapery--go floating by. A sudden gust of wind snatched at her
-umbrella, and shook a deluge from the tree boughs, fretting the
-surface of the pools. It roused her, and she turned away shuddering.
-She would wait and meet the Giant face to face.
-
-As she turned into the _impasse_ where her studio was, she felt that
-he was getting very near. The long walk had tired her. Since
-yesterday her only food had been the free tea at the Girls’ Club.
-Her door was the last on the left-hand side, and broke the face of
-what looked a blank wall. Near it a bell-handle hung on the end of a
-wire. On the fourth floor she opened a door that had her card nailed
-to it.
-
-The studio was dark, only the large window showed a dim, gray
-square. She lit the lamp, and then, suddenly, in the recklessness of
-her desperation, the fire. There were eight pieces of wood and six
-briquettes in the box. She would burn them all. She would burn the
-bed and the chairs, but she would be warm to-night. To-morrow was
-twelve hours off.
-
-The light showed the emptiness of the chill, barn-like room. The
-walls alone were furnished, decorated with a series of life-class
-studies, some made twenty years before, when she had been the star
-of one of the Julians. Now these spirited delineations of nakedness,
-unlovely and unabashed, offered silent testimony to the brilliant
-promise of Celia Reardon’s youth. To-night she only thought of the
-fire and cowered over it--a little, pale shadow of a woman, near
-upon middle age.
-
-For hours she sat watching the flames dart up through the holes in
-the briquettes. The warmth consoled her. She grew dreamy and
-retrospective. Her thoughts went slipping back from point to point,
-in the glamourous past, when she had been hung in the Salon, and
-sold her pictures, and was an artist people spoke of who would some
-day “arrive.” From those radiant days of youth and hope, things had
-been gradually declining to this--one by one stand-bys failing and
-her old patrons leaving, rich Americans who ordered copies growing
-scarcer and scarcer. Finally no money to hire models, bad food, and,
-in consequence, declining health, poor work that failed to find a
-market; pride coming to her aid and withdrawing her from the help of
-friends; furtive visits to the Mont de Piete, and more dreaded ones
-to the dealers on the Rue Bonaparte; and to-night the end of all
-things.
-
-It was late when she slept. Waking in the gray dawn she found
-herself lying cramped and cold in front of the white ashes of the
-fire, and crept shivering to bed. There she slept on till after
-midday. She felt weak and stupid when she rose, and her dressing
-took a long time. She began to realize that her state was nearly as
-bad physically as it was financially.
-
-It was better to walk about the streets till the hour for tea than
-to freeze in the studio. She put on her hat and jacket, relics of
-better days to which she desperately clung, and went forth. In the
-night the thermometer had fallen and the rain had turned to snow.
-She buried her chin in her collar and tried to walk briskly. She
-thought she would go to the Louvre, which was warm, and sit there
-till four, when she could come back to the Girls’ Club. Both walks
-were long, but the hour’s rest at the Louvre would strengthen her,
-and there was still the faint possibility of meeting some one she
-knew who would order a copy.
-
-She felt singularly tired when the long flank of Catharine de’
-Medici’s part of the old palace came into view with the river
-sucking at the wall. All the surroundings were gray and motionless
-like a picture, and in the midst of this dead immobility the swift,
-turbulent tide rolled on, a thing of sinister life, calling to her
-as it sped. Midway across the bridge she stopped to look down on it,
-and then stood gazing, fascinated, unable to tear herself away.
-
-Close to her, on the coping of the wall, an image-seller had set out
-his wares. They were a dream of fair women, classic and modern. The
-solemn majesty of the great Venus was contrasted with Phryne hiding
-her eyes in a spasm of modesty. Clytie, with the perfect fall of her
-shoulders, rising from the lily leaves that fold back as if
-unwilling to hide so much beauty, stood droopingly beside the proud
-nakedness of Falguière’s Diane. The boy who presided over this
-gallery of loveliness--a meagre Italian, his face nipped with
-frost--stood a hunched-up, wretched figure, his eyes questioning the
-passers-by.
-
-Presently one of these halted in the hurrying march with an eye on
-Clytie. The boy drew his hands from his pockets, and with piteous
-eagerness held out the bust. The tones of his voice penetrated
-Celia’s dark musings, and she looked that way.
-
-The buyer was a lady, young, and of a curiously soft and silly
-prettiness. She displayed all of a Parisienne’s flawless finish. Her
-cheek, by art or nature, was like a magnolia petal; her hair showed
-burnished on its loose ripples. Beneath the edge of her veil her
-uncovered mouth appeared, fresh as a child’s, serious, and
-charmingly foolish. Her chin rested on a fluff of white tulle and
-was a white of a warmer tint. There was dubious debate in her glance
-as it paused on the figures. She looked the incarnation of sweet
-indecision. Presently she decided on Clytie, and said she would take
-it with her. Celia knew she had bought the head from a sudden,
-careless pity for the boy’s red nose and chilblains. If _she_ had
-peddled sketches on the bridge, with her nose red and her toes
-coming through her boots, she, too, would have made money, she
-thought, as she hungrily wondered how much the boy had made by his
-sale.
-
-The lady unclasped the little bag that hung by a chain to her wrist,
-and searched for money. She was evidently careless, and carried many
-things therein. Suddenly she jerked out a whisp of
-pocket-handkerchief, and under it found the _cache_ where the money
-had been secreted. She bent her face to search for the desired coin,
-and so did not see that with the handkerchief a five-franc piece had
-been twitched out.
-
-Celia did see. She saw it spring out, and then drop into a bank of
-snow, noiselessly, as if purposely to avoid detection. She made a
-step forward to pick it up and return it. And then she stopped--a
-thought went through her like a zigzag of lightning. Cupidity, born
-of hunger, burst into life in her, and nailed her to the spot, her
-mouth dry, her eyes vacant of expression. For the first time in her
-life Temptation gripped her.
-
-The traditions of generations of seemly New England forbears cried
-out upon her and struggled within her. But she stood her ground. The
-coin lying in the snow seemed of more importance to her than
-everything else in the world.
-
-As the lady passed away, Celia drew near the images. The boy was
-rearranging them. When his back was turned she bent down and groped
-in the snow. Then rose with her face red.
-
-She crushed down the shame that surged in her, and turned to leave
-the bridge. There is a Duval on the Boulevard St. Germain, and she
-almost ran to it, thinking as she went of what she would order. She
-would spend two francs and a half, allowing a twenty-five centime
-_pourboire_ for the girl.
-
-It was not the crowded hour, and she had no need to hurry. She ate
-sumptuously and slowly, and began to feel the revivifying tide of
-life flowing back into her starved body. The Giant began to look dim
-and distant. The river called no more. In the leisurely French
-fashion she sat a long time over her meal. The day was darkening to
-its early twilight as she emerged and fared down the boulevard.
-
-She was walking slowly down the great street, her body warmed, the
-cries of her hunger stilled, when the enormity of her act began to
-force itself upon her. She refused to acknowledge it at first.
-Hunger was sufficient excuse. But not so much her conscience as her
-sense of dainty self-respect insisted on her shame. She was a thief.
-Her whiteness was stained forever. She had never before done
-anything for which to blush or to lie. Her poverty, her
-discouragement, her pitiful, proud struggles, had always been
-honest. She would as soon have thought of murdering some one as of
-stealing from them.
-
-Now she had done it. One moment’s temptation had marked her forever.
-As the money had fallen into the snow something in her had fallen,
-never to rise.
-
-Pursued by harassing thoughts, she half-unconsciously wended her way
-toward the river. Here, unencumbered by houses, daylight still
-lingered. The gray afternoon was dying with a frosty brilliance. In
-its death throes it exhaled a sudden, angry red which broke through
-the clouds in smoldering radiance. Its flush tinted the sky and
-touched the tops of the wavelets, and Celia felt it on her face like
-the color of shame.
-
-As she stood staring at it, her pallor glazed with an unnatural
-blush, an inspiration came to her which sent a tide of real color
-into her face. A manner of redeeming herself suddenly was revealed
-to her. She would give the rest of the money to the most needy
-person she met that evening. She would walk the city till she found
-some one more deserving of it than she. Then she would give all she
-had--share her theft with some other pauper to whom two francs would
-mean salvation.
-
-She felt instantly stimulated and revived by a return of
-self-respect. Either side of the river would be rich in case of
-heartbreak and hunger. Standing in the middle of the bridge, she
-looked from the straight line of gray houses on the Quai Voltaire to
-the vast façade of the Louvre. Then some whim impelled her to choose
-the side of the city where wealth dwells, and she walked forward
-toward the _guichets_ of the old palace.
-
-The city had on the first phase of its evening aspect of brilliantly
-illumined gayety. People were dining; she caught glimpses of them
-over the half-curtains of restaurant windows. Women in voluminous
-wraps were making mincing exits from the hotel doorways to waiting
-fiacres. There was the _frou-frou_ of skirts, whiffs of perfumery,
-the shifting of many feet under the arcades of the Rue de Rivoli.
-
-Passing the entrance of one of the largest hotels, she was arrested
-by a familiar voice, and a richly clad and rustling lady deflected
-her course from the carriage that awaited her at the curb toward the
-astonished artist. Celia felt a curious sensation of fatefulness
-when she saw in the face before her that of an old patron, long
-absent from Paris. The lady gave her a warm greeting; she wanted to
-see her to-morrow, apropos of some copies to be made. Had Celia time
-to make the copies? Well, then, would she come to lunch to-morrow
-and talk it over?
-
-The little artist blinked in the glare of the doorway and the lady’s
-diamonds. She would.
-
-And now would she go to the theatre with the lady? Only her niece
-was with her, and they had a box.
-
-No--Celia could not do that. She had--er--business--business that
-might keep her up very late.
-
-The carriage rolled away with the lady and the niece, and Celia
-turned up one of the side streets that lead to the great boulevard.
-So Fortune was going to smile on her once more. All the more reason
-to square things with her conscience. She grasped her purse tightly
-and looked about her as she passed up the narrow thoroughfare.
-Misery often lurked ashamed in corners. She knew just how and why.
-
-A few moments more walking, with an occasional turn into cross-cuts,
-brought her into the spacious widening of the ways before the Gare
-St. Lazare. It was particularly lively inside the depot inclosure,
-as the boat train for Calais was soon to leave. There was an
-incessant rattling of carriages piled high with trunks, and a great
-disgorging of travelers, who ran staggering up the steps weighted
-with the amazing amount of hand luggage indispensable to the
-Continental tourist.
-
-Certainly it did not look a promising place in which to seek
-distressed humanity. Celia turned away and began to walk upward
-toward the street which flanks the building on the left, and winds
-an ascending course toward Montmartre. It was badly lit, sheltered
-by the vast blank wall of the depot, and showed only an occasional
-passer-by, and the lamps of a long line of waiting fiacres.
-
-As she advanced into the semi-obscurity of this dark byway, a
-carriage rattled up and stopped precipitately near the side entrance
-into the yard. A man sprang out and then turned with a sort of
-elaboration of gallantry and helped out a woman. Celia idly noted
-her trim foot as it felt for the step, her darkly clad, elegant
-figure, then her face. It came with a shock of familiarity on its
-smooth, rounded prettiness; now, however, no longer placid, but
-deeply disturbed. Under it unwonted currents of feeling were
-corrugating the brow and making the lips droop. Only an eye used to
-note faces would have recognized it as that of the woman who had
-bought the head of Clytie a few hours before.
-
-Celia loitered, and then drew back into the shadow of the wall. The
-woman was evidently in the grip of mental distress. Apprehension,
-indecision, terror almost, were stamped on her mobile and childish
-countenance. The man stretched his hand inside the carriage and
-pulled out two valises. He spoke to her, shortly but with slightly
-veiled tenderness, and with a start like a frightened animal she
-drew back into the shadow. He paid the driver, and then, standing
-between the bags, he drew out his pocket-book and gave her some
-murmured instructions.
-
-She suddenly interrupted him in a louder key.
-
-“I have my ticket,” she said, “I bought it this afternoon. I passed
-Cook’s, and went in and bought it.”
-
-“You bought it yourself?” giving her a fatuously loving look from
-under his hat-brim, “you were afraid we would perhaps be late? Dear
-one, how thoughtful!”
-
-“I don’t know what I thought. Oh, yes, I do. I thought if I went in
-to buy it here with you I might see some one I knew. That would be
-so dreadful.”
-
-“Of course, you must not go in with me. You must wait here. Keep
-back in the shadow there while I’m gone.”
-
-“Here--take it--Oh, I’m so nervous! Take it, and get yours, and then
-come back.”
-
-She feverishly clawed off the little bag she wore on her wrist, and
-thrust it into his hand. Though less obviously so, the man was also
-nervous. He clutched up his valises, and put them down; then glanced
-uneasily up and down the street’s dim length.
-
-“I’ll go alone and buy mine,” he said, “and put the bags in the
-compartment. I’ll be gone a few moments. You wait here, and don’t
-move till I come for you.”
-
-“Oh, of course, not. I shouldn’t dare. And please hurry. I don’t see
-how I will ever be able to get in. At any moment I might meet some
-one I know. Think of what that would be! I had no idea this was
-going to be so terrible. It’s not easy to do wrong.”
-
-“Do wrong?” echoed the man, in a tone of tender, though somewhat
-hurried, reproof. “Don’t say such foolish things. We have a right to
-happiness. Oh--er--haven’t you got a veil you could put on when you
-enter the Gare? It would be better.”
-
-A bell rang within the building, and the woman gave a suppressed
-shriek.
-
-“Oh, go--go!” she cried wildly. “Don’t stop to talk now. That may be
-the train. What would happen if we missed it?”
-
-The bell struck him into action, too, and he hurried off, swaying
-between the two heavy valises.
-
-Celia, from her station near the wall, was too smitten by the sudden
-revelation before her to have will to move. So she was eloping, this
-baby-cheeked creature, whose kindly impulse had prompted her to buy
-the Clytie from the frost-nipped boy on the bridge. Without any
-natural predisposition in that direction, she was going the way of
-the Devil, and even at this stage stood aghast, bemused, and
-terrified at what she had done.
-
-The Frenchwoman moved forward into the light, and stood for a moment
-watching her departing lover. Then she began to send fearful glances
-up and down the street. Celia thought she could hear her breathing,
-and the thumping of her heart. It was not hard to see how she had
-been cajoled and overruled.
-
-Suddenly, from the fullness of her heart her mouth spoke: “Oh, I
-want to go home.” She spoke aloud, making at the same moment a
-gesture of clasping her hands. Her face took on an expression as
-near to resolution as possible. Its flower-soft curves stiffened.
-Her lover was gone, and her hypnotized will was struggling to life.
-
-She turned desperately toward the line of carriages and beckoned to
-the _cocher_ of the nearest one, then dropped the raised hand to her
-wrist, where the bag had hung. It encountered nothing, and in a
-moment she remembered that her purse was with the man.
-
-“Good God!” she said, and this time the violent Gallic ejaculation
-sounded appropriate.
-
-As the carriage rattled up, Celia came out of the shadow. She spoke
-excellent French, and the Parisienne might have thought her a
-fellow-countrywoman. “What is the matter?” she said, quietly. “Do
-you feel sick?”
-
-“No--no--but my money is gone. I gave my purse to my friend, and now
-I want to go back.”
-
-“But he’ll be here again in a minute.”
-
-“That’s just it--in a minute. And I must go before he comes back,
-and I have no money.”
-
-“You can always pay the _cocher_ at the house.”
-
-“Not now--not to-night.”
-
-She was far past a regard for the ordinary reticences of every-day
-life, but the humiliation of her admission was in her face. “My
-husband--he’s there, with only one old servant. He thinks I’m in the
-country with my mother. So I was till this afternoon. If I come home
-unexpectedly with no money to pay the _cocher_, he will be
-surprised. He will be angry. He will want to know all about it--I
-can’t explain it or tell more lies. I was mad when I said I’d go. I
-didn’t realize--Oh, good heavens!” with a sudden burst of agonized
-incoherence, “here he is! He’s coming and that will be the end of
-me.”
-
-Celia turned. Against the bright background of the depot entrance
-she saw the Frenchman’s thick-set figure coming rapidly down the
-steps. He had got rid of the valises, and was almost running.
-
-“Quick,” she said, and turning to the waiting carriage wrenched open
-the door.
-
-“Get in,” she commanded. The terrified creature did so. She was
-ready to be dominated by any imperious will. Celia stretched her arm
-through the window, and into the little gloved hand pressed the
-two-franc piece, then cried:
-
-“You can tell the _cocher_ the address when you get started. Don’t
-stop him till you get some way off. Go,” she cried to the man, “down
-by the Rue Auber--don’t waste a minute. Fly!”
-
-The _cocher_ flicked his horse with the whip, and it started. At the
-window a pale face appeared, and Celia heard the cry: “But your
-name, your address? I must send the money back.”
-
-“Never mind that,” cried Celia, “it isn’t mine. It’s conscience
-money.”
-
-The fiacre rolled down the street, and, plunging into the mêlée of
-vehicles, wound its way through the press to the Rue Auber. A man
-standing on the sidewalk drew the stares of the passers-by as he
-gazed blankly this way and that. A woman quietly picked her way
-across the _carrefour_, toward the station where one takes the
-Vaugirard omnibus.
-
-
-
-
-THE JACK-POT
-
-By Charles Dwight Willard
-
-
-There were five of us in the party--six, counting Long Tom, the
-guide. After two days’ hard climbing, which the _burros_ endured
-with exemplary fortitude, we arrived at the little valley high up in
-the mountains, through which threaded the trout-stream.
-
-“Jest you all go over into the cabin there and make yourself
-comf’ble, while I ’tend to gettin’ this stuff unpacked,” said Long
-Tom; “there ain’t no one there. My pardner, he’s down below.”
-
-“The cabin appears to be two cabins,” said the colonel, as we
-approached it.
-
-“That is for economy in ridge-poles,” said the doctor; “sleeping
-apartments on one side and kitchen on the other. In the space
-between, you keep your fishing-tackle and worms.”
-
-We entered the right-hand section of the twin cabin, which proved to
-be the kitchen side. There was not much furniture--a table of hewn
-logs, a chair of bent saplings, and a rough bench.
-
-However, we did not notice such furniture as there was, for each
-member of the party, as he stepped over the high threshold, had his
-attention instantly attracted by the stove, and a brief roundelay of
-ejaculations went along the group.
-
-“Well, that staggers me,” said the stock-broker.
-
-“H’m,” said the professor, in a mysterious tone, and rubbed his
-chin.
-
-The stove was a plain, small cooking-range, rather old and rusty.
-The strange thing about it was its position. Its abbreviated legs
-stood upon large cedar posts, which were planted in the floor and
-were over four feet in height. This brought the stove away up in
-mid-air, so that the top was about on a level with the face of the
-colonel, and he was a six-footer.
-
-We formed in a circle about the stove and stared at it as solemnly
-as a group of priests around a sacrificial tripod. We felt of the
-posts--they were firm and solid, showing that the mysterious
-arrangement was a permanent, not a temporary, one. Then we all bent
-our necks and opened our mouths to look up at the hole in the roof,
-through which the stove-pipe vanished.
-
-Suddenly the stock-broker burst out into a laugh.
-
-“Oh, I understand it now,” said he.
-
-“Understand what?” asked the colonel, sharply.
-
-“Why Long Tom has his stove hoisted up so high from the floor.”
-
-“So do I,” said the doctor; “but I suspect that my explanation is
-not the same that any one else would offer.”
-
-“Well, I will bet that I am right,” said the stock-broker, “and put
-up the money.”
-
-“I am in this,” said the judge; “I have a clear idea about that
-stove and will back it.”
-
-“Make it a jack-pot,” said the colonel; “I want to take a hand.”
-
-The stock-broker drew a small yellow coin out of his pocket and
-dropped it on the table.
-
-“He has the stove up there,” he said, “to get a better draught. In
-this rarefied mountain air there is only a small amount of oxygen to
-the cubic inch, and combustion is more difficult to secure than in
-the lower latitudes. I have heard that if you get high enough up,
-you can’t cook an egg--that is, I mean, water won’t boil--or
-something like that,” he continued, thrown into sudden confusion by
-the discovery that the professor’s eye was fixed upon him with a
-sarcastic gaze.
-
-“Is that supposed to be science?” demanded the professor.
-
-“Well,” said the stock-broker, doggedly, “never mind the reasons.
-Experience is probably good enough for Long Tom. He finds that he
-gets a better draught for his stove by having it up in mid-air, so
-he has it there.”
-
-“The right explanation,” began the professor, “is the simplest. My
-idea is that----”
-
-“Excuse me,” interrupted the stock-broker, tapping the table; “are
-you in this pot?”
-
-The professor made a deposit, and proceeded:
-
-“Have you noticed that our host is a very tall man? Like most men of
-his height, he hates to bend over. If the stove were near the floor,
-he would have to stoop down low when he whirled a flap-jack or
-speared a rasher of bacon. Now he can stand up and do it with ease.
-Your draught theory is no good; the longer the pipe, if it is
-straight, the better the fire will burn.”
-
-“Professor,” remarked the colonel, “I regret to have to tell you
-that your money is gone. Long Tom told me, on the way up, that his
-partner did all the cooking, and he is a man of rather short
-stature.” The colonel then paid his compliments to the jack-pot, and
-continued: “Now, my idea is that the stove heats the room better
-there than on the floor. It is only a cooking-stove, to be sure, but
-when the winter is cold it makes this room comfortable. Being up in
-the middle of the space, it heats it all equally well, which it
-could not do if it were down below.”
-
-The doctor greeted this theory with a loud laugh. “Colonel,” he
-said, “you are wild--way off the mark. Hot air rises, of course, and
-the only way to disseminate it is to have your stove as low as
-possible. According to your idea, it would be a good plan to put the
-furnace in the attic of a house instead of in the basement.”
-
-“I think,” said the colonel, “that I could appreciate your argument
-better if you would ante.”
-
-“The pot is mine,” said the doctor, as he deposited his coin; “you
-will all adopt my idea the moment you hear it, and Long Tom, who
-will be here in a minute, will bear me out. This room is very small;
-it has but little floor-space, and none of it goes to waste. Now, if
-he had put the stove down where we expected to find it, Long Tom
-could not have made use of the area underneath, as you see he has
-done. On all sides of the supporting posts, you will notice there
-are hooks, on which he hangs his pans and skillets. Underneath,
-there is a kitchen-closet for pots and cooking-utensils of various
-sorts. What could be more convenient? Under your ordinary stove
-there is room only for a poker and a few cockroaches.”
-
-The judge, who had been listening to the opinions offered by the
-others with the same grim smile that occasionally ornamented his
-face when he announced that an objection was overruled, now stepped
-forward and dropped a coin on the table. He then rendered his
-decision as follows:
-
-“It appears that none of you have noticed the forest of hooks in the
-roof just over the stove. They are not in use at present, but they
-are there for some purpose. I imagine that during the winter huge
-pieces of venison and bear’s-meat dangle over the stove, and are
-dried for use later. Now, if the stove were on the floor, it would
-be too far from the roof to be of service in this way.”
-
-“Here comes old Tom,” shouted the colonel, who had stepped to the
-open door while the judge was speaking.
-
-The old trapper put down the various articles of baggage with which
-his arms were loaded and came into the kitchen-cabin where we all
-stood. He glanced at the group and then at the stilted stove in our
-midst.
-
-“I see you air all admirin’ my stove,” said he, “and I’ll bet you’ve
-been a-wonderin’ why it is up so high.”
-
-“Yes, we have,” said the professor; “how did you know it?”
-
-“People most allus generally jest as soon as they come into the
-place begin to ask me about it--that’s how I knowed.”
-
-“Well, why is it up so high?” demanded the stock-broker impatiently,
-with a side glance at the well-developed jack-pot on the table.
-
-“The reason’s simple enough,” said Long Tom, with a grin that showed
-his bicuspids; “you see we had to pack all this stuff up here from
-down below on _burros_. Originally there was four j’ints of that
-stove-pipe, but the cinch wasn’t drawed tight enough on the _burro_
-that was carryin’’em, and two of’em slipped out and rolled down the
-mountain. When we got here and found that there wasn’t but two
-pieces left, I reckoned that I would have to kinder h’ist the stove
-to make it fit the pipe--so I jest in an’ h’isted her. And thar she
-is yet. Say, what’s all this here money on the table for?”
-
-There was a deep silence which lasted so long that Tom ventured to
-repeat his question about the money.
-
-“It is a jack-pot,” said the doctor, sadly, “and as near as I can
-make out, it belongs to you.”
-
-
-
-
-THE SEATS OF JUDGMENT
-
-By C. W. Doyle
-
-
-                              I.
-        That Two Eyes are Better than One in the Dark.
-
-
-“Thou hast the writings of Le Toy, Wau Shun?” asked Sam Lee of his
-brother-highbinder, as the latter issued from the receiving hospital
-of San Francisco.
-
-“Verily, or thou hadst heard my dogs bark within,” replied Wau Shun.
-
-“And Lee Toy?”
-
-“Lee Toy died babbling of wings, and of the white babe whose life he
-saved from fire this day at the price of his own, and whose father
-stood beside him weeping like a woman.”
-
-“Was ever the like seen before!” exclaimed Sam Lee. “That Lee Toy,
-the bravest of the brave, the keenest hatchet of our ‘tong,’ should
-fail his brethren, and break his oaths, and worship the white babe
-whose abduction he had undertaken--and that the babe’s father should
-weep for one of our people!”
-
-“Ay, and, what is of more importance, that Lee Toy should have given
-me the writings that would have hanged us, who compassed his
-passing! Eh, Sam Lee?”
-
-“Yea, Wau Shun; and compassed also the hanging of Quong Lung--nay,
-turn not so suddenly in a narrow lane, my brother, for I have but
-one eye, as thou knowest, and that can not abide swift movement in
-the dark on the part of a man whose life is forfeit”; and Sam Lee
-drew a darkling revolver from his blouse.
-
-With a deft movement, Wau Shun, who had the advantage of two
-eyes--though they looked in different directions and were hard to
-meet--threw Sam Lee’s hand up, and snatched the pistol from him.
-
-“’Twere easy to slay thee now, Sam Lee; and ’twere profitable,
-too--if only Quong Lung were out of the way.”
-
-“Ay, if Quong Lung were only out of the way; but Quong Lung lives
-and waxes fat, and Wau Shun is his slave!”
-
-No more was said. They turned into a narrow alley near the top of
-Jackson Street, Wau Shun walking in the rear. As soon as they had
-entered the shadow produced by the narrowness of the lane and by its
-angle to the lighted main street, there was a sharp report, and Sam
-Lee fell on his face, and coughed like one who is stricken through
-the lungs.
-
-The swarms that inhabit Chinatown began to buzz. In a few minutes
-the alley was crowded with curious coolies jabbering excitedly, and
-in the fifth or sixth row of those who stood round Sam Lee was Wau
-Shun, watching the blood that welled from the mouth of the dying man
-and prevented speech.
-
-After Wau Shun had seen the corpse of his brother-highbinder laid
-out on a slab at the morgue, he treated himself to a couple of
-jorums of “hot-Scotch,” and sought his den in Cum Cook Alley.
-
-Lighting a dim candle, he proceeded to barricade himself, and to
-conceal his light, by means of a coverlet that was held in its
-place, on his side of the door, by iron bars that crossed and
-recrossed each other.
-
-When all was snug, he drew from an inner pocket the roll of papers
-given to him by Lee Toy, which set forth the names of the several
-highbinders who belonged to his “tong,” the various loppings
-accomplished by their “hatchets,” and, in a special supplement, the
-instigations to certain notorious crimes by their master-mind, Quong
-Lung.
-
-Lighting a brazier, he tore out his own record from the writing, and
-committed it to the flames. But that which related to Quong Lung he
-placed in a receptacle cunningly concealed in the threshold of the
-door.
-
-Then, extinguishing his light, he sallied forth with the rest of Lee
-Toy’s confessions in his pocket, to speak with Quong Lung, who had
-awaited him these many hours with patience--and wrath.
-
-
-                               II.
-                     The Lesser Discipline.
-
-
-The dawn of Christmas Day was rosy when Wau Shun reached Quong
-Lung’s store. The bells throughout the city of San Francisco were
-once more frantically announcing the birth of the Babe of Bethlehem,
-as Wau Shun gave the signal of “The Brethren” on Quong Lung’s
-electric bell. It was answered by a deep voice that came through a
-speaking-tube, the end of which was so cleverly hidden that none but
-the initiated could find it: “Peace attend thy feet! What brother
-needs succor?”
-
-“Thy servant, Wau Shun.”
-
-“Enter, Wau Shun,” and the door was opened by some mechanical
-contrivance, and closed, as soon as Wau Shun had crossed the
-threshold, with a snap suggestive of a steel trap. Pressing a
-concealed button, Wau Shun lit an incandescent lamp that showed him
-how to avoid the thread, the breaking of which would have
-precipitated a hundred-weight of iron on the head of an intruder. At
-the end of the passage thus illuminated was a door, to which he
-applied his pass-key and entered an apartment that was a reflex of
-its occupant, in whom East and West were met. The room was decorated
-and furnished in accordance with the tastes of a Chinese gentleman
-of high culture; but the illumination was supplied by electricity,
-and a long-distance telephone, of the latest pattern, stood at the
-elbow of the stout, spectacled Chinese merchant, who sat on a great
-ebony chair, gravely smoking a cigar.
-
-This was Quong Lung, the famous head of the high-binders of the See
-Yups--the most powerful “tong” in San Francisco--and who owed his
-bad preëminence to the fact that he was absolutely unscrupulous,
-using even his devoted friends as stepping-stones to his ambitions.
-Then, too, he was a “Native Son of the Golden West,” and used the
-idioms and swore with the ease of a born Californian. He had
-friends--old school-fellows and college chums--among the executive
-of San Francisco, and, by means of his more intimate knowledge of
-what was happening, he was enabled to humiliate his rivals and
-punish his enemies.
-
-“Thou hast done well, Wau Shun,” he began, “and deservest well--but
-dry tongues can not speak.”
-
-Pouring out some whisky for himself, he pushed the bottle across to
-Wau Shun, who had now seated himself on the other side of the table.
-
-“Thy servant is enriched by thy approbation, Most Powerful,” replied
-Wau Shun, draining his glass after Quong Lung had drunk.
-
-“The passing of Lee Toy by way of fire was excellently done, Wau
-Shun--most excellently done. And where is Sam Lee?”
-
-“He is aweary and sleepeth, Great Master,” answered Wau Shun, whose
-squinting was suddenly accentuated.
-
-“May his sleep refresh him! But the end of Lee Toy, as I have
-already said, was surpassingly excellent, Wau Shun. I learnt by
-this”--and Quong Lung pointed with his cigar to the telephone--“I
-learnt by this of the firing of the house of the white devil, whose
-babe Lee Toy guarded, and how Lee Toy died to save the devilkin.”
-
-“Ho, ho, ho!” interrupted Wau Shun, chuckling softly, and helping
-himself again from the bottle.
-
-“And the writings of Lee Toy?” asked Quong Lung, after a while.
-
-Without a word Wau Shun laid a packet on the table.
-
-“But these pertain to Sam Lee only,” exclaimed Quong Lung, after he
-had examined the roll of papers; and his nostrils dilated slightly.
-“Thou hast, doubtless, others that relate to thee and to me.”
-
-“Now, nay, All-Seeing; the packet is as Lee Toy gave it to me--so
-Sam Lee will tell thee.”
-
-“If the dead may speak,” said Quong Lung, deliberately.
-
-The other turned toward him with amazement and horror in his looks.
-It was admirably done, but it did not even attract the attention of
-Quong Lung, who quietly flicked the ash from his cigar, and went on:
-“And thou wast seen by two of our brethren in the crowd that
-witnessed the end of Sam Lee; and ’twere easy, too, to find
-witnesses who saw thee slay Sam Lee.” Then, after a pause, he went
-on: “Moreover, only fools tell lies to such as me. None may sit on
-that chair and lie to me--only lift not thy voice at the proof of
-it, lest death come to thee suddenly!”
-
-The next moment the horror-stricken highbinder was writhing under
-the spell of an electric current, strong enough to prevent him from
-relaxing his hold on the arms of his chair, which he had grasped as
-he tried to spring to his feet.
-
-After Quong Lung had disarmed his victim, he said: “Thou wilt be
-here two days hence, and at the same hour, with the other writings
-of Lee Toy! Two of thy brethren await thee on the street, and will
-see to thy punctuality. Drink once more, Wau Shun, thou hast need.
-Ho, ho!”
-
-
-                            III.
-               Sweet Counsel and “Black Smoke.”
-
-
-“Roast turkey, cranberry sauce, mince pies, plum pudding,
-cheese-straws, a choice between beer and champagne! Well, Quong
-Lung, and what do you want of me, you prince of plotters?”
-
-The speaker had all the outward and visible signs of one who was a
-slave to opium; but under the influence of Quong Lung’s Christmas
-dinner his eyes sparkled and his spirits rose to a high pitch.
-
-“Nothing, nothing, Jim--at least nothing to speak of; and we won’t
-speak of it until we have had a small black coffee, and--a small
-black pipe. By the way,” he went on, “Miss Ah Moy and Miss Shun Sen
-will come in presently with the coffee and pipes.”
-
-Quong Lung’s guest, James Ray, was lank, and sallow, and of
-uncertain age, because of his terrible vice, and his hair was
-prematurely gray. He had been an electrical engineer of high promise
-until he became an opium-fiend. Even his clothes betrayed his
-failing, no less than his scanty and feeble beard and mustache and
-his leaden complexion. He had attended the same Eastern college as
-Quong Lung, and had imbued the latter with a taste for Shakespeare
-and Byron and the Psalms of David; together they had graduated from
-Yale; and then Quong Lung, recognizing the ability of his friend and
-the possibilities of electricity in the career of a highbinder, had
-introduced Ray to the fascination of opium-smoking; and so--through
-the uses of adversity--he held the latter in pawn for his own
-nefarious ends.
-
-“Why all this magnificence, Quong Lung?” inquired Ray, after Ah Moy
-and her colleague had brought in the coffee and the implements
-pertaining to “black smoke.” “You have but to say the word, old man,
-and, like Ariel, ‘I’ll put a girdle round the earth in forty
-minutes.’”
-
-Now the hiring of Ah Moy and Shun Sen to twang their _samyens_ for
-the delectation of white devils, and hand them coffee and sing to
-them, “came high,” for the damsels were famous in their way and in
-great demand.
-
-“This is too small a thing for you to notice, Jim,” replied Quong
-Lung; “nothing is too good for my friend.”
-
-“Why didn’t you add, ‘the earth is my lord’s and the fullness
-thereof,’ and crush me with your compliments? As though I were a
-damned coolie!”
-
-There was some petulance in Ray’s voice, as he gave way to the
-feeble irritability that attends the constant use of narcotics and
-stimulants by all except Orientals. He rose to his elbow from the
-mat on which he was smoking, and threw the pipe on its tray, like a
-spoiled child. But Quong Lung took no notice of the little outbreak,
-and Ah Moy put the pipe to his lips with her own fair hands and soon
-coaxed him into complacency. When a look of contentment had once
-more settled on his face, Ray said, deprecatingly: “It was the
-‘dope’ that spoke, Quong Lung, and not I; forgive me, old man! And
-now, what do you want?”
-
-Quong Lung motioned to the girls to withdraw, and when he was alone
-with Ray he said: “Jim, I shall hang unless you help me.”
-
-“You must be in a bad fix, indeed, Quong Lung, if you depend on my
-small arts to help you. Explain.”
-
-“Certain papers implicating me are in the possession of one of my
-blood-hounds, who has shown himself recalcitrant and ungrateful--the
-damned dog! By means of the battery yonder, which you rigged up for
-me, I frightened the brute considerably this morning, and he will be
-here again two nights hence with such of the papers as his fears may
-compel him to part with; but if his courage should revive, as it
-may, and if he should come without the documents, I want to put him
-under the stress of telling me where they are to be found, and then
-I desire that he should never speak again!”
-
-Quong Lung darted a look full of dangerous meaning at Ray.
-
-“Why don’t you employ your regular bull-dogs to attend to this
-unpleasant affair, Quong Lung?”
-
-“Because their methods are coarse and their weapons clumsy.”
-
-“But it is deuced risky to be an accessory before the fact in a
-murder case, my friend.”
-
-“No, no, Jim, not murder! Call it, rather, ‘the sudden death of an
-unknown coolie, from unknown causes.’”
-
-“And the consideration for me?”
-
-“Two hundred dollars now,” said Quong Lung, laying a pile of notes
-on the platform on which they were smoking, “and two hundred more
-after the thing is over.”
-
-“And if I refuse?”
-
-Quong Lung shrugged his shoulders, and said, in an indifferent tone
-of voice: “Life without opium, and without means of obtaining it,
-were hell, as you know. Besides, so many accidents are constantly
-happening in Chinatown.”
-
-“Very well,” replied the other, rising languidly to his feet and
-thrusting the notes into his pocket; “very well. You must let me
-have entire possession of this room for the next two days, and
-provide such assistance and implements as I may require.”
-
-As he was leaving the room he stopped to smell a tuberose that stood
-on a bamboo flower-stand. The passing act seemed to give him an
-idea, for he turned suddenly to Quong Lung, saying: “See to it,
-Quong Lung, that you provide plenty of punk-sticks for the eventful
-night. You will need them, I am thinking. And be good to this green
-brother,” pointing to the tuberose.
-
-
-                              IV.
-                Concerning Cherries and Tuberoses.
-
-
-An hour before the time set for the arrival of Wau Shun, Ray called
-Quong Lung into the room wherein he had labored almost incessantly
-during the past two days.
-
-“All’s done,” he said, “save only the payment of my dues.”
-
-“Proceed,” returned Quong Lung, laying ten double eagles on the
-table and seating himself on his favorite ebony chair.
-
-Ray eyed him curiously while he pocketed the money, and the
-Chinaman, who seemed to notice everything, rose quickly from the
-chair and said, with a smile:
-
-    “‘How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds,
-    Makes ill deeds done!’
-
-Eh Jim? Now show me your trick.”
-
-“Should somebody you dislike sit on the chair you have just left,
-Quong Lung, pressure on this button”--pointing to an
-innocent-looking cherry painted on a panel that hung on the
-wall--“would connect the chair with the electric-light wires that
-pass over your house, and make your objectionable guest the
-recipient of--say, three thousand volts.”
-
-“And then?”
-
-“And then--slightly altering the words of your favorite poet, to
-describe the result--‘his heart would once heave, and forever stand
-still’; and nobody would know how your highbinder died.”
-
-As Ray left the room, he was again attracted to the tuberose. After
-smelling it, he turned round and called to Quong Lung, saying: “But
-you will not leave this innocent in the room, Quong Lung; its odor
-would be ruined by the punks you will burn, and by other savors.”
-
-Then gravely saluting Quong Lung, James Ray left the Chinaman’s
-house, and made his way to the office of the chief of police of San
-Francisco, for even a dope-fiend has a fragmentary conscience.
-
-
-                              V.
-                    The Greater Discipline.
-
-
-While Ray told his story to the chief of police, with all the
-circumstances and detail that would exonerate him and implicate
-Quong Lung, the latter met Wau Shun at his outer door, and, holding
-him by the hand, escorted him to his chamber, which was dim with the
-smoke of many burning punks, the odor of which filled the air.
-
-“Those who are true to me, Wau Shun, will always find that my ‘ways
-are ways of pleasantness, and all my paths are peace,’” said Quong
-Lung, softly, misquoting the Psalmist.
-
-“Thy house, Far Reacher, is the well-known dwelling of pleasantness
-and peace.”
-
-When Quong Lung would have seated Wau Shun on the chair of which the
-highbinder had such a lively recollection, the coolie shook his
-head, saying: “Nay, who is thy slave that he should sit in the
-presence of the Most Powerful. The ground thou treadest is good
-enough for him.” And Wau Shun squatted on the floor before his
-chief.
-
-“There is no harm in the chair, Wau Shun,” said Quong Lung, seating
-himself on it carelessly, “no harm unless, indeed, the sitter tells
-lies or have deceit in his heart.” Then, after a pause, he went on:
-“The writings of Lee Toy--thou hast brought them?”
-
-“Of a surety,” replied Wau Shun, producing a packet of papers from
-his blouse.
-
-After Quong Lung had looked through them, and satisfied himself that
-they were authentic and complete, he said: “Wau Shun, the white
-devils say that virtue is its own reward; but that would be poor
-reward for such virtuous actions as thine. Thou shalt drink with me
-first, and then expound to me how I may lighten the burden of
-obligations thou hast laid on me.”
-
-He went to the table, and pouring out two glasses of spirits, he
-advanced with them on a tray to the squatting coolie.
-
-After they had drunk, Quong Lung resumed his seat, and lighting a
-cigar, he said: “It is not meet that he who hath saved my life this
-day should crouch on the ground like a dog. Let Wau Shun take my own
-particular chair, whereon none have sat save those I would
-honor--nay, I insist”; and Quong Lung pointed to the great chair of
-ebony, broad enough to accommodate two men such as himself. It was
-adorned with a shield of bronze, richly carved and inlaid, that
-formed its back; and it stood on a dais of burnished copper, and
-might have been the throne of an Oriental potentate; and behind it
-was a mirror which reflected the exquisite carving on its back.
-
-When Wau Shun, after much protestation, had ensconced himself in a
-corner of the great chair, Quong Lung once more filled the glasses,
-and again they drank in silence.
-
-“And now, Wau Shun, though I can not weigh my gold against thy
-services to me, yet, I pray thee, name some reward that will not put
-me to shame to bestow on thee.”
-
-“Will the payment of fifty dollars afflict thee, my lord?”
-
-“Nay, Wau Shun, that is the due of but a part of thy merits--the
-slaying of Sam Lee, for instance. Here is more for thy other many
-good deeds,” and Quong Lung tossed on the table a heavy bag that
-chinked opulently. “Moreover,” he continued, “now that Lee Toy, our
-keenest hatchet, is dead, some worthy successor to him must be
-found, and who so worthy as Wau Shun, the slayer of the uncommon
-slain, Lee Toy?”
-
-“Further, Instigator,” interrupted Wau Shun, squinting atrociously,
-for the liquor had begun to mount to his head; “further, it seems to
-me that if anything happened to thee--which God forbid!--_I_ might
-be found worthy to sit in this thy chair by reason of thy
-recommendation, and--my worthiness.”
-
-“Of course, of course,” said Quong Lung, looking at the point of his
-cigar and crossing his knees. “The See Yups have need of strong men,
-and who so strong as Wau Shun! Drink once more to thy worthiness.”
-
-After they had disposed of the liquor and smoked awhile, Wau Shun
-said, familiarly and half-insolently: “Quong Lung, thou owest me
-reparation for thy insults of two nights ago; and seeing thou art
-seated on the chair of humiliation” (here Wau Shun lapsed into
-impudent vernacular), “you must needs do as I say or be twisted out
-of shape.”
-
-“What!” exclaimed Quong Lung, putting one hand carelessly behind his
-head and resting the other against the adjacent wall, whereon was a
-painted panel that glowed with cherries--“what! wouldst thou plague
-me?”
-
-“Nay, but I would discipline you,” said Wau Shun, thickly; “I would
-discipline you with cramps, if need were.”
-
-“And cramps only?” asked Quong Lung, toying with the flower-painted
-panel. “’Twere dangerous to play with me so lightly. Cramps can not
-touch me and are for fools alone.”
-
-“Then I would kill you otherwise, smooth, fat hog!”
-
-“Have at thee, Wau Shun!” exclaimed Quong Lung, fiercely, pressing
-the fatal cherry; and Wau Shun, sitting in the corner of the
-gorgeous chair, stiffened into a frightful attitude, and then began
-writhing dreadfully. To the heavy, punk-laden atmosphere of the room
-was added an odor of burning flesh.
-
-Quong Lung rose from his seat and crossed the room to where his
-victim was being electrocuted. “Ho, ho, ho!” he laughed softly;
-“excellent Jim, most excellent Jim!”
-
-As he watched the grim murder enacting before him, he saw, reflected
-in the mirror behind the chair of doom, the door that led into the
-room slowly open, and James Ray and a detective well known to Quong
-Lung entered swiftly.
-
-“Throw up your hands, Quong Lung!” commanded the officer, as he
-covered the Chinaman with his pistol.
-
-Taken in the midst of his crime, Quong Lung started and, backing
-against the fatal chair, he fell on the seat beside his victim, with
-a yell, as the tremendous current shot through him, killing him
-instantly.
-
-“Turn off the current, Ray. For God’s sake, be quick!” shouted the
-officer, as the bodies writhed and twisted on the chair of death.
-
-“Yes, yes,” came the leisurely reply, as Ray took the tuberose from
-the flower-stand; “there will be plenty of time after I have removed
-this sweet tenderling from this horrible atmosphere.”
-
-
-
-
-A DOUBLE SHOT
-
-By Stewart Edward White
-
-
-Pat McCann came up from the plains into the hills in a bad humor
-with himself and the world. He had tried to be a cow-puncher and had
-been promptly bucked off; he had tackled the cooking problem and
-only escaped mobbing by resigning his job; now he had dragged his
-little, squab form, with its hanging arms, up into the hills to try
-mining. He applied to the first camp he came to. King, the foreman,
-gave him a job.
-
-Early the next morning he and another man walked down the gulch
-through the sarvis bushes for half a mile, turned abruptly to the
-right, climbed the uneven length of a zigzag trail, and at last
-halted near the top of a ridge. The pine trees, slim and tall, grew
-out of the unevenly carpeted ground, through which cropped irregular
-slices of a red-brown, crumbling rock. At the very crest was a
-dark-gray “dike” of quartzite, standing up steep and castellated for
-a height of thirty feet or more. This was the “hanging wall” of the
-prospective mine. Down through the trees were glimpses of vast,
-breathless descents to other ridges and other pines far below. Over
-the dike was nothing but the blue sky.
-
-The two men had stopped within a hundred feet of the top. The old
-hand went over to a rough lean-to of small trees covering a rude
-forge, from beneath which he drew several steel drills of various
-lengths and a sledge-hammer, which he carried to a scar in the face
-of a huge outcropping rock. After dumping these he returned and got
-a can of water and a long T-shaped implement of iron. The two men
-then set to work.
-
-McCann held firmly while the other struck. After each blow he would
-half-turn the drill. When a dozen strokes had been given, he poured
-a little water in the hole, and thrust the drill through a bit of
-sacking to keep it from splashing. The other man jammed his hat down
-closely over his forehead and struck fiercely, alternately breathing
-in and grunting in rhythmical succession. When the hole became
-clogged with fine, gray mud, McCann carefully spooned it out with
-the T-shaped instrument, wiping the latter each time on his
-trousers. While he did this his companion leaned on his sledge or
-threw chunks of rock, with wonderful accuracy, at the squirrels that
-ran continually back and forth on the ridge. As the hole grew
-deeper, longer drills were used, until at last the longest of all
-left barely enough above the surface of the rock to afford a
-hand-hold. With that the miner expressed himself satisfied. He then
-brought three cylindrical packages wrapped in greasy paper.
-
-“What’s them?” McCann inquired.
-
-The miner grunted contemptuously.
-
-“Hercules powder,” he replied. He pronounced the proper name in two
-syllables.
-
-With a sharp knife he cut these into lengths of about three inches
-each, and dropped them one by one into the hole in the rock. He then
-rammed them home with a hickory ramrod, just as all old miners will
-insist on doing. Because of this a large percentage of old miners
-have no fore and middle fingers on their right hands. The last piece
-he split, inserted in the crack a bit of fuse, on the end of which
-was a copper cap, dropped it in, and then carefully chinked-in with
-the wet grit which had been spooned out of the hole.
-
-“Mosey for cover, Irish!” he said, and touched it off.
-
-From behind his tree McCann saw the sputtering fuse disappear. The
-next instant the rock seemed to bulge, splitting in radiation as it
-did so, and then the smoke belched forth in a canopy, filled with
-fragments of quartz. Following the miner, he found a jagged opening
-in the rock. Then they sharpened their drills at the forge and went
-at it again. By night they had fired two more blasts, and had made a
-start toward a shaft. After the third, Bob, the miner, said,
-glancing at the West: “That’ll do, Irish.”
-
-They _caçhed_ the tools, caught up the water-bucket, and swung
-rapidly down the trail. Bob was ahead, slouching along with the
-mountaineer’s peculiar gait, which seems so lazy, and yet which gets
-over the ground so fast. In a very few moments he reached the gulch
-below, plunging from the bare, rock-strewn hillside under the pines
-to the lush grasses and cool saplings of the cañon bed, as from a
-desert to a garden. He looked around to say something. McCann was
-gone.
-
-“Well, I’m damned!” he ejaculated, and yelled loudly.
-
-After a moment’s pause, from far down the opposite slope came a
-faint whoop. Bob sat down on a fallen tree, and waited
-philosophically, shouting at intervals. In a little while the
-Irishman came charging frantically up the gulch, tearing along
-through the vines and bushes at full speed, so terrified that he
-passed within ten feet of Bob without seeing him. The latter watched
-him surge by with an odd little twinkle in his eye. Then suddenly he
-shouted again. Pat slowed up, looked about for a moment vacantly,
-and then his rugged Hibernian face broke into a multitude of jolly
-wrinkles.
-
-“Arrah, it’s yerself, darlin,” he said; “Oi thought it’s Pat McCann
-as is goin’ t’ slape wid th’ mountain lines this night!”
-
-“You stick t’ me,” was Bob’s only comment.
-
-After a short climb the men reached the camp on a knoll overlooking
-two confluent gulches. There was the superintendent’s office, the
-cook-house, the bunkhouse, the blacksmith’s shop, the stables, and
-the corral--all of logs. Supper was served at sundown. The men filed
-in, took off their coats, and sat down without a word. As each one
-finished eating, he arose, put on his coat again, and sauntered
-outside, filling his pipe as he went. Finally the whole gang was
-gathered at the bunk-house, smoking, telling laconic stories, or
-playing cribbage--the great American game in the mountains.
-
-As the last comer, Pat was told to water the horses. He went boldly
-into the corral with a rope, and was kicked flat. The boys
-straightened him out, and, after he had regained his breath, gave
-two of the horses’ halters into his hands. Except in the main cañons
-of the Black Hills there is no surface water, the creeks all running
-down along the bed-rock. As a consequence, wells are necessary even
-in the upper hills. Pat first let a horse get loose, then he lost
-the bucket down the well, then he fell in himself in trying to fish
-it out. The boys fished him out with some interest. So manifestly
-inadequate an individual it had not been their fortune to meet
-before, and they looked on him as a curiosity. On the spot they
-adopted Pat McCann much as they would have adopted a stray kitten or
-puppy, and doubtless in somewhat the same amused, tolerant state of
-mind.
-
-The next morning Bob and Pat cleared away the _débris_ of the three
-blasts, wrenching off the broken, adhering bits with a pick, and
-shoveling them out. King came up with an axe-gang and built a rough,
-square breastwork of logs down the hill, to catch the quartz as in a
-bin. They also squared a number of timbers, and tongued the ends.
-These were to timber the shaft.
-
-All this interested the little Irishman. He recovered his spirits,
-and his Old World blarney came back to him. The clear, fresh air of
-the hills, the abundant food, the hard work, the sound sleep, the
-reaction against the taciturnity of the men, and the calm grandeur
-of the mountains, filled him with animal spirits. He imagined he had
-found his vocation at last. He wanted to do everything. In time he
-learned to strike with the sledge, although it was only after long
-practice on a stake that he could induce any one to “hold” for him;
-he sharpened drills--after a fashion; he even helped in the
-timbering-up. The only thing lacking was the “shooting” of the
-charges. He had an ambition to touch the thing off. This King
-roughly forbade.
-
-“That fly-away fool to risk his neck that way?” he said; “I guess
-not! He don’t know enough now to make his head ache. When I want a
-wild Irishman too dead to skin, I’ll let you know. I don’t want that
-man to have the first thing to do with the powder. Understand that!”
-
-What King said went in that camp. Besides, the men knew him to be in
-the right. Pat was the unluckiest man alive, and the most awkward.
-He was sure to be in any trouble there was about--in fact, as Jack
-Williams said, he was a sort of lightning-rod for the whole camp in
-the way of trouble; every one else was sure of exemption, if there
-was only one man’s share of difficulty dealt out. So McCann pleaded
-in vain.
-
-This went to his heart. He would have given his black-thorn
-shillalah from Dublin to have been looked upon as a full-fledged
-miner. He used to put on all the airs of one in Sweetwater when he
-went down there once a week, swaggering about in copper-riveted
-jeans, with his hat on one side, conversing learnedly though vaguely
-on “blow-outs,” “horses,” “foot-walls,” and other technicalities,
-hauling out of his pockets yellow-flecked bits of quartz--in short,
-“putting on dog” to an amazing extent. But as he turned past the
-stamp-mill of the Great Snake and began to scale the heart-breaking
-trail that led to the top of the ridge, his crest began to fall. As
-he followed the narrow, level summit for the three miles of its
-length, standing as it were in the very blueness of the air, his
-spirits began to evaporate. When he took the shorter and gentler
-descent to the camp, the old conviction had returned with sickening
-force. He was not a miner. He had never “shot.” He used all his
-persuasive powers in vain. For one thing, the men were afraid to
-disobey King. For another, they liked Pat, and, having a firm faith
-in his “hoodoo,” were convinced that his “shooting” and sudden death
-would be synonymous terms. So Pat abandoned persuasion and tried
-craft.
-
-The old shaft on which he and Bob had first begun work had been
-carried down fifty feet. Appropriate cross-cuts and drifts had been
-made to exploit the lead. It was now abandoned. Bob and Pat were put
-to work at another spot in the same lead a little farther along the
-ridge. The place marked out for the first blast was between two huge
-bowlders, or rather between the two rounded cheeks of one bowlder.
-The passage between them was perhaps five or six feet wide. One end
-led out in a gradual descent to the broad, open park of the ridge
-top, the other dropped off abruptly three or four feet to another
-level place. Around the corner of the first the miners kept their
-tools and forge; down the second they planned to drop when the blast
-was fired; and there they had built a little fire, it being, on that
-particular day, in the lee of the rock.
-
-The hole had been all drilled before Bob discovered that he had
-forgotten to bring any powder; so, cursing, he started down the
-passage to get some from the sheet-iron powder-house in the draw.
-Hardly was he out of sight before McCann, chuckling softly to
-himself, pulled from under a shelving bit of rock the missing
-powder. With this he loaded the hole; he arranged the fuse, and then
-dropped down the ledge to get a brand from the fire. It was nearly
-out, so it took a few moments to start a torch. However, he was in
-no hurry, as it was some little distance to the powder-house, and
-Bob could not possibly return inside of half an hour. At last he
-coaxed a bit of pine into a glow, and turned to climb back. A
-startling sight met his eyes.
-
-When Bob went to get the powder he stopped at the forge for the
-water-pail. As he stooped to pick it up, something struck him a
-sudden blow in the thigh that knocked him over and set the blood
-flowing--he said afterward he thought the bone was broken. When he
-could see, he looked about to find what had hit him, and discovered
-not ten feet away the long, tawny body of a puma.
-
-The great cat lay watching him through half-shut eyes, lazily
-switching its tail back and forth. From the depths of its throat
-came a deep rumbling purr. He tried to rise, but could not. Then he
-turned over on his left side and started to crawl painfully through
-the passageway of the rocks. The beast opened its eyes and followed
-stealthily, step after step, still switching its tail, and still
-purring. It was in a sportive mood, and played with its prey, as a
-cat plays with a mouse. Inch by inch the man pulled himself along,
-leaving a trail of blood. At last, within a few feet of the ledge,
-he stopped; he could go no further. The puma, too, paused.
-
-At this moment Pat McCann, a blazing pine-brand in his hand, looked
-over the ledge. Bob saw him and faintly warned him back. The puma
-saw him too. The purring ceased, and the lithe muscles tightened
-under the skin. The game was over. The animal was preparing to make
-its spring.
-
-It did not occur to the little Irishman’s fighting soul to retreat.
-His comical features stiffened; his little blue eyes fairly snapped.
-Slowly he drew himself up on the ledge, keeping his eye fixed on the
-puma, until he stood erect, then he shifted his brand mechanically
-into his left hand, and drew his sheath-knife. He did not know that
-the fire was his best weapon, and Bob was too weak to tell him. The
-brand, held point downward, began to blaze. The puma’s great eyes
-shifted uneasily at this, and its muscles relaxed. It was evidently
-discomposed. Pat did not await the attack, but stepped forward,
-holding his knife firmly.
-
-When within a few feet of the animal, Pat hesitated and stopped. His
-nerve was still unshaken, but he did not know how to begin. The puma
-still sniffed uneasily at the blaze, but had recovered from its
-first fear, and was again gathering its powers for a spring. For a
-moment there was absolute silence, and Pat heard through the still
-air the sharp chatter of a squirrel and the clank of the ore-team’s
-whiffle-trees from the ore road far below. While he stood thus
-uncertain, the fire from the pine, having run up along the torch,
-began to burn Pat’s fingers. Without moving his head or shifting his
-eyes, he dropped it gently--plumb upon the fuse he had so carefully
-arranged a few moments before. Then he took a step backward to avoid
-the smoke. There was a splutter and a flash, then a sudden roar. The
-man and the beast were hurled violently in opposite directions, and
-a volcano of rock shot high in the air and showered down again.
-
-The axe-gang found the puma very dead and Pat very hard to revive.
-The whisky-and-water method brought him around at last. He looked
-hazily about him in evident bewilderment until his eye caught sight
-of the dead animal, and then his face lighted up with eager joy.
-
-“Glory to God, Oi’m a miner!” he shouted. “Oi’ve ‘shot’ at last!”
-
-
-
-
-TEN THOUSAND YEARS IN ICE
-
-By Robert Duncan Milne
-
-
-While lounging listlessly along the sea-wall one afternoon about the
-beginning of August last--the eighth, I think it was--enjoying the
-sunshine and inhaling the sea-breeze, my attention was attracted to
-an unusual bustle and commotion on the quay of Section Two. I could
-see from where I was that considerable exertions were being made to
-transfer some heavy object from a vessel moored alongside the quay
-to the quay itself. As I got nearer I discovered by the name on the
-stern that the vessel was the whaling-bark _Marion_, and that the
-object which the crew, assisted by a number of longshoremen, were
-making such efforts to get on shore was an immense rectangular
-block, measuring some nine feet in length by about four in breadth
-and thickness. Had it been a block of granite, the men could not
-have worked harder, prying it with rollers and levers along a
-gangway made of a dozen or so of stout planks laid abreast from the
-ship’s deck to the quay. As, however, this object, whatever it was,
-was swathed and enveloped with a plentiful supply of sacking, I
-could form no opinion as to its nature.
-
-While standing abstractedly by, looking on and speculating as to
-what this very heavy object might be, and wondering what it could be
-doing aboard a whaler, I was tapped gently on the shoulder by
-somebody, and, looking round, my eyes rested on a heavily bearded
-and bronzed individual in pea-jacket and rough trousers, with a
-laughing eye, who said, cheerily: “What! don’t you know me?”
-
-I was certain I had never seen the man before, though something in
-the voice sounded familiar. My doubts, however, were speedily set at
-rest by this individual exclaiming: “Don’t you recollect Joe
-Burnham? Has a year made such a difference? If so, I’m glad of it.
-You couldn’t have paid me a better compliment.”
-
-“Can it be possible?” I said, in surprise, as I grasped his hand;
-“why, Joe, who would have expected to meet you coming off a whaler?
-And with a heavy beard, too!”
-
-“Why, I thought you knew all about it,” he returned, with equal
-surprise; “just wait a minute,” he added, as he turned to give some
-directions to the men who had now got the heavy object safe on
-shore, and were proceeding to hoist it upon a dray.
-
-While he was thus engaged, I recalled some circumstances which
-served to explain the unexpected and original appearance of my
-friend.
-
-Joe Burnham, the son of the well-known millionaire mining-man, had,
-I knew, been recommended to go abroad for change of air about a year
-before, owing to failing health arising from too intense application
-to study. This, however, was all I knew, and I had no idea that he
-had concluded to take his change of air aboard a whaler. But knowing
-his taste for scientific pursuits of any and every character, I can
-not say that I was very much surprised to meet him again as I had
-just done. At any rate, the trip had certainly been most beneficial,
-as he had changed from a sickly and rather delicate student to a
-hale, hearty, and robust man.
-
-“Yes,” he remarked, as he came back from the dray, which was now
-moving slowly off, the four sturdy horses which drew it evidently
-straining under the weight with which it was loaded, “my doctor
-prescribed absolute freedom from brain-work of any kind. He shook
-his head when I suggested Europe. There was too much, he said, to be
-seen in Asia, or, in fact, in any other quarter of the globe, to
-insure the perfect repose he thought necessary. Even a prolonged
-yachting excursion did not meet his views. That, he said, would be
-worse than anything else. Its very monotony and loneliness would
-drive me to cogitation. The sea part of it, he admitted, was
-capital. If a sea voyage could be combined with excitement and
-something to do--but would I work? Then some lucky inspiration
-seemed to flash across my mind, and I asked him if there were any
-objections to a whaling trip. ‘The very thing,’ he said; ‘you have
-plenty of money and can go more as a passenger than as a sailor. You
-won’t have much time to study on board _that_ kind of a vessel, and
-I’ll risk all the chances you get to indulge in the study of the
-flora and fauna of the Arctic.’ And now you see how it is that I
-happen to be disembarking at the present moment from the stanch bark
-_Marion_.”
-
-“You seem to have got plenty of baggage, anyhow,” I returned,
-motioning toward the dray, which was now fast retreating in the
-direction of the city; “your share of the blubber, perhaps,” I
-added, banteringly; “or maybe specimens of the flora and fauna of
-the Arctic, which your doctor cautioned you against.”
-
-“Partly right and partly wrong,” said Burnham, sententiously and
-somewhat seriously; “you may have got nearer the truth about that
-queer parcel than you think. But this is no time or place to speak
-about it. Come up to the house to-morrow forenoon, if you have time,
-and I will show you something that will astonish you. I particularly
-wish you to come,” he added, with emphasis; “you will be amply
-repaid for doing so by what you will see. Meantime, I have something
-more to arrange on board this vessel.” So saying, he crossed the
-gangway and disappeared.
-
-Next morning about ten, in accordance with my friend’s invitation, I
-ascended the steps of the Burnham mansion, rang the bell, and sent
-in my card. I was evidently expected, as the servant requested me to
-follow him, and led the way downstairs. There, in a small court-yard
-sacred to himself, and in which, together with two apartments
-opening thereon, my friend conducted his experiments, I found him in
-his shirt-sleeves, superintending the disposition of the ponderous
-mass which had excited my curiosity the day before on the sea-wall.
-The workmen had just succeeded in hoisting it on to a strong and
-massive trestle-work, some three feet from the ground, and upon this
-the nondescript, oblong package, swathed with sacking and bound with
-ropes, now rested.
-
-“There!” said Burnham, as he settled with the men and turned the key
-of the door leading into the ordinary court-yard of the house; “the
-most laborious part of the job is over. It was no easy matter
-getting the package up here. But now, as publicity at this stage
-must on every consideration be avoided, I must ask you to stand
-ready to lend me a hand when necessary. Better leave your coat in
-the laboratory or in the studio--which you please--you can suit
-yourself.”
-
-The “laboratory” and the “studio” were the respective names of the
-two rooms opening onto the court-yard where we were now standing,
-which was itself separated, as I have said, from the main court-yard
-of the building by a tolerably high wall, opposite which were the
-entrances and windows of the rooms aforesaid, which had been
-originally intended for outhouses of some sort. The other two sides
-of this little court-yard were blind-walls of the house itself.
-Certainly, if secrecy were the requisite aimed at in my friend’s
-enterprise, whatever it might be, a happier place could not have
-been chosen. The “laboratory” and the “studio,” while each opened on
-the court, and while there was also intercommunication between the
-rooms, differed greatly in interior arrangement, as well as in the
-uses to which they were put. The laboratory was fitted up with
-benches, tables, and shelves, littered with chemical, optical,
-electrical, and photographic apparatus, zoölogical and botanical
-specimens, _et hoc genus omne_; a perfect scientific chaos, in
-short, without a semblance of law and order. The studio, on the
-other hand, was richly and luxuriously furnished and kept in
-scrupulous order by Burnham’s own valet, who, I noticed, however,
-was not there at this time.
-
-Passing into the laboratory first, I noticed that a trestle-work
-similar to that in the court-yard stood in the centre of the floor,
-and that it was surmounted by a shallow pan of zinc, fitted at one
-end with a waste-pipe, like that of a bath-tub, leading to the
-gutter of the court. I was still further surprised to note, when I
-passed on into the studio, that the centre of that chamber also
-contained what might be termed a supplement to the trestle-work, in
-that the furniture had been moved to one side to make room for an
-improvised table on which rested an ordinary mattress. In addition
-to this a bureau-bed had been unfolded and set in readiness at one
-of the walls, while a blazing fire burned in the grate, although the
-day was anything but cold. Before I had time to speculate upon the
-meaning of all these mysterious preparations, I heard Burnham
-calling, so throwing my coat on a settee I hastened to join him. I
-found him engaged in firing up a small portable steam-engine that
-stood in one corner of the yard, and in affixing to the exhaust-pipe
-of the cylinder another pipe, several feet in length, with a movable
-arm, evidently for the purpose of ejecting steam in any desired
-direction.
-
-“Now,” he said, as he completed the connection, “while the boiler is
-getting up steam, you and I must get to work and uncover our
-package. I expected Dr. Dunne here before this, but doctors, you
-know, are always entitled to latitude in non-professional matters.”
-
-So saying, he took a knife and began to cut away the ropes from the
-package, I following his example. Then we removed layer after layer
-of sacking, the air growing, I thought, all the time sensibly
-colder, till upon removing the last of the sack-cloth--we could not,
-of course, remove the wrapping on which the weight rested, but
-merely contented ourselves with ripping the top open and letting it
-fall on either side--what was my surprise to see before me an
-immense oblong block of blue, pellucid ice. But who shall express my
-feelings when, a moment after, I discerned _imbedded in the heart of
-the transparent crystal the form of a man_.
-
-But let me describe what I saw. There, lying on its back in the
-middle of the frozen slab, was unmistakably the body of a man, but
-so wonderfully life-like in every detail that it was as difficult to
-believe that the man was dead as it was to conceive how he had come
-into his present position. The eyes were dark and wide open, and
-whether or not it was due to some peculiar refracting qualities of
-the medium through which they were observed, they did not look
-glassy or seem to have lost their lustre. The short, thick, curly
-black locks that clustered about the forehead, and the closely
-trimmed beard that fringed the cheeks, looked as natural as they
-could have done in the heyday of life. But just as inexplicable was
-the dress. It was composed of some light material such as is worn in
-hot climates, and had more in common with the ancient Greek chlamys,
-or the Arab burnous, than with any other type of dress that I
-recall. Such colors as it had were tasteful and resplendent, and had
-lost none of their original freshness. The feet were shod with
-sandals, and a gemmed ring still sparkled upon one of the fingers of
-the right hand. It was the face and figure of a handsome man of
-thirty, or thereabouts, and the whole posture was so indicative of
-repose as to indicate that, whoever he might be, he had met his end
-calmly and without pain.
-
-I turned mechanically toward Burnham and saw that he was watching my
-surprise and smiling.
-
-“Well, what do you think of my package,” he asked; “was it worth the
-trouble of bringing it here from the Arctic circle?”
-
-“I must congratulate you on your specimen,” I returned; “it will
-certainly be a great acquisition to our scientific men and
-antiquaries. But how are you going to preserve it? Won’t you find it
-rather a difficult matter to keep the ice in a state of
-congelation--and expensive, too, I should think?”
-
-“That is not my intention,” he replied; “I mean to thaw him out.”
-
-“And then?” I queried.
-
-“Resuscitate him.”
-
-I looked at my friend to see if he were not joking, but could detect
-no sign of mirth about his face.
-
-“Why not?” he said; “that man in the ice there is as organically
-perfect as you or I are. No fibre or atom of his organism has
-undergone any change since he came into the condition he is now in.
-Say that he met his death--if indeed he is dead--by drowning, and
-the water he was drowned in was subsequently frozen, he is no worse
-off at this moment, even though he has been lying where he is
-thousands of years, than the man who was drowned five minutes ago.
-And I hold, and my friend Dr. Dunne agrees with me----”
-
-Dr. Dunne, one of the most scientific physicians and surgeons in the
-city, as is well known, entered the court-yard at that moment, after
-giving a secret knock, and apologized for his tardiness.
-
-“My friend, Dr. Dunne, I say, agrees with me, that our treatment of
-drowned, or so-called drowned, men is all wrong, and that they can
-be resuscitated hours after death has apparently supervened, if the
-proper measures are taken. Drowning is simply a case of arrested
-function, that is all. Provided the organism is sound, why should it
-not be made to perform its functions again? Does a temporary
-stoppage ruin a watch if the works are all right? If so, what are
-doctors and watch-makers for, I should like to know? Is it not so,
-doctor?”
-
-“At all events we can try,” rejoined the doctor, impressively; “I am
-heartily glad of such a favorable, such an ultra-favorable,
-opportunity, I should say, of testing the efficacy of my treatment
-of drowned men upon so promising a subject.”
-
-“But what about the freezing, doctor?” I ventured to remark, for the
-coolness with which the whole subject was treated reminded me
-painfully of my own deficiencies of scientific lore and rendered me
-proportionately modest. “I have always understood that frozen limbs
-are as good as dead, and that amputation alone can save the life of
-the rest of the organism in such a case. It seems to me that when
-the whole body is frozen, so much the worse.”
-
-“So much the better,” returned the doctor, warmly; “it is much
-easier to work where the conditions are homogeneous.”
-
-By this time the steam escaping from the safety-valve of the
-portable engine showed that the pressure was considerable, and
-Burnham, who had previously shifted the slide-valve so that the
-steam would pass straight into the exhaust, now wheeled the engine
-opposite the block of ice, pointed the lateral pipe, which he had
-connected with the exhaust, and which he manipulated on its joint by
-means of a fork, toward the side of the block, turned the
-globe-valve and let the jet of blue vapor play upon the ice. The
-court-yard was soon thick with clouds of steam, but the huge
-ice-block kept dwindling away as the steam was directed upon one
-point or the other, by wheeling the engine round it, till in less
-than half an hour the court-yard was little better than a puddle and
-nothing remained of the ice-block but a crystal envelope, a few
-inches thick, around the inclosed body, so deftly and skillfully had
-Burnham directed the steam-jet upon all portions alike.
-
-“We shall now have to exercise more care,” he remarked; “the
-remaining ice must be removed in a more gentle manner. Help me to
-carry the body into the laboratory.”
-
-So saying, we all lent a hand and transferred the ice-bound body to
-the zinc tray upon the trestles in the laboratory, in which a
-roaring stove-fire had previously been lit, and the temperature of
-which, when the doors were shut, was like that of a Turkish bath.
-
-“There!” ejaculated Burnham, who, though in his shirt-sleeves, was
-perspiring freely and panting after his work; “so far, so good. Let
-us go into the studio and sit down and rest while _our guest_”--I
-was struck with the quaintness of the epithet as applied to the
-corpse in the next room, as also with the emphasis Burnham gave
-it--“sheds the remnant of the crystal mantle he has worn for who
-shall say how many thousand years. It will take at least half an
-hour before he is completely thawed out, and meanwhile, if you like,
-I will tell you how I managed to run across him in the Far North.”
-
-We were all curious to know, so Burnham gave the following details:
-
-“After leaving San Francisco in March, last year, we sailed North
-with the intention of reaching Behring Sea by the time the ice broke
-up, hoping to do well enough with whales and seals to return before
-the season closed. I had, of course, made my arrangements with the
-captain, going as a volunteer, to do duty or not as I pleased, and
-living in the cabin. We had the usual adventures which are part and
-parcel of a whaler’s experience, and which I will not bother you
-with, as they are not germane to the question, and I found my health
-improving wonderfully under the influence of the fresh air,
-exercise, and excitement.
-
-“By June we had passed Behring Straits and then cruised for a good
-many weeks in the open sea beyond; but our luck was bad, and, owing
-to trying to better it before we left, we waited too long; worse
-than that, we were caught by a storm which blew us nearly due north
-for several days to a point some hundred miles east of Banks’s Land
-and the Parry Isles; and before we knew where we were, we found
-ourselves shut in by the ice, luckily in the lee of some bluffs,
-forming part of a small island only a few square miles in extent, to
-which circumstance alone we could attribute the escape of our vessel
-from being crushed by the ice-pack. Subsequent observations showed
-that we were in longitude 162 degrees W. and about latitude 76
-degrees N.--a point, by the way, rarely reached by navigators even
-under the most exceptionally favorable circumstances. There was
-nothing for it, however, but to make the best of a bad job and
-prepare to winter it out with the best grace we could. Luckily we
-had plenty of provisions--I had looked after the matter of
-commissariat, personally, before embarking--and I think I may safely
-say that few whalers ever wintered in the Arctic circle better
-equipped in that respect than we were.
-
-“As you can readily imagine, the life of a ship’s crew, ice-bound,
-during the long, dark, northern winter is not an enviable one.
-Suffice it to say that we got through it with probably less than the
-ordinary amount of hardship, and were very glad to catch a glimpse
-of the sun about the beginning of April, as it looked like a sign of
-release, though the captain did not think the ice would break up for
-at least six weeks longer. There was now some pleasure in rambling,
-as there were a few hours of sunlight to do it by, and I used to
-make the most of it, as one might get an occasional pop at a seal or
-otter, and not unfrequently the captain--we were by this time great
-chums--would accompany me.
-
-“One day in May we were tramping along, gun in hand, over the
-ice-fields, going over some new ground to the east of the ship, when
-we came upon a patch of remarkably clear and transparent ice, about
-a mile from the vessel. This was the more peculiar as the generality
-of the ice in our neighborhood was rough, jagged, opaque, and
-usually coated with snow. Looking down casually as we were crossing
-this patch, my eye was arrested by the curious spectacle of the body
-of a man embedded in the ice, some sixteen or eighteen feet below
-the surface. I called the captain’s attention to the phenomenon,
-and, getting down on our hands and knees, we spent a good while in
-examining the strange object as well as we could, and speculating
-upon how it could have got there. What puzzled us most was the white
-clothing upon the body, the captain’s theory being that it was the
-corpse of some officer of consequence, belonging, perhaps, to some
-government expedition, whose shroud had burst its canvas casing
-after being consigned to the deep, and which had afterward drifted
-there with the currents and frozen fast. I, however, whose eyes were
-keener, could see that the dress upon the body was no shroud, and
-that the features, instead of being livid, bloated, and swollen,
-like those of a corpse that had been some time in the water, were
-clear-cut, fresh, and untouched by decay. I became anxious to obtain
-a nearer view of this strange discovery, and at length prevailed
-upon the captain to let me have the use of half a dozen of the crew
-to dig down through the ice till I could satisfy my curiosity
-regarding it. Accordingly, next morning we set to work with pick and
-shovel to sink a shaft in the ice, and it was only the work of an
-hour or two before we were within two feet of the body.
-
-“At this distance I renewed my examination and became the more and
-more impressed and mystified as I did so. But my astonishment was
-still further increased when, upon gazing downward through the
-pellucid depths below, I saw, or thought I saw, the dim outlines of
-buildings, just as they might seem from the top of some tall
-monument. I thought I could detect lines of streets and squares, the
-buildings on which were white as of marble, their architecture
-seeming to approach the Grecian in type. Gardens and trees, too, I
-thought I saw, but the light of the low sun was so feeble that I did
-not know whether it might not all be due to the fantastic forms of
-sea-weed, and that imagination was doing the rest. As it was,
-however, the impression I received served to increase my interest in
-the mysterious object beneath me.
-
-“I now resolved to secure possession of this wonderful windfall,
-from a scientific standpoint, which luck had thrown in my way; and
-by dint of promising a liberal reward to my assistants I succeeded
-in persuading them to dig round and below the body, leaving the
-block, which we just now melted, only supported securely enough at
-its ends to keep it from breaking down, till such time as we were
-prepared to remove it. Here, again, I had a bitter altercation with
-the captain, when I mooted my design of carrying off my prize. It
-was absurd, he said, preposterous, to think of packing a huge block
-of ice, containing only the dead body of a man, and of no earthly
-use to anybody. Did I think that whalers were fitted out for costly
-voyages into polar seas for the fun of the thing? Look at the room
-it would take, if nothing else. No; he must draw the line there; he
-would be d----d if he gave his countenance to any such nonsense as
-that, science or no science.
-
-“I now saw that it was neck or nothing. There is nothing so obdurate
-as a sea-captain, if he sets his foot down, and by long association
-I knew my man. I determined to try him on a new tack, and to go to
-almost any length in doing so, partly through the spirit of
-opposition which is strong within me, and partly because I had
-already formulated, in a vague manner, the scheme which we are now
-carrying into practice. I felt a deep conviction, too, that I was in
-some mysterious way working out mysterious ends, and that gave new
-strength to my resolve.
-
-“‘Captain,’ I said that evening as we sat in the cabin, ‘what do you
-estimate that your present trip is worth?’
-
-“‘Worth nothing as yet,’ he answered, with a growl; ‘worse luck to
-it.’
-
-“‘I mean what would you take for the net earnings of the voyage,
-provided somebody bought your chances for what you might pick up
-upon the return?’
-
-“The captain studied. It was plain that I had given his ideas a new
-turn. Perhaps he divined the bent of mine.
-
-“‘Well,’ he said, at length, ‘there would be the crew to be
-considered, as well as myself, in a case of that sort. We’re all
-working on shares. Captain gets half, and the other half of the net
-proceeds are divided _pro rata_ among the petty officers and crew.
-What would suit me mightn’t suit them.’
-
-“‘Well, what could you reasonably expect to take on the home voyage
-with average luck?’ I said, returning to the charge.
-
-“‘Half a dozen sperm-whales wouldn’t be out of the way,’ returned
-the captain, cheerily; ‘might get more. Catch might range anywhere
-from twenty to forty thousand dollars.’
-
-“‘Call it thirty thousand,’ I said; ‘would that be a fair average?’
-
-“‘Well, there’s twenty-two of a crew. That would net about seven
-hundred dollars apiece for their share. I don’t think they would
-growl at that. Fifteen thousand would suit me, and I think I should
-be very well out of it, for that matter. But why do you ask such
-questions?’
-
-“‘Read that,’ I said, for answer, and shoved a slip of paper across
-the table.
-
-“‘Why, what’s this?’ said the captain, taking up the slip of paper
-and reading:
-
-                                        Off the Parry Isles,
-                                        Long. 162° W., lat. 76° N.,
-                                        May 14th, 1888.
-
-Bank of California, San Francisco.
-
-Pay to the order of J. F. Manson, captain whaling bark _Marion_, the
-sum of thirty thousand dollars ($30,000) and debit
-
-                                                  Richard Burnham.
-
-“‘Simply a check for your possible gains on the return voyage,
-captain. I want the use of your ship as far as San Francisco.
-Everything satisfactory, I suppose. Good-night.’ So saying, I
-strolled into my stateroom, leaving the worthy captain to deliberate
-upon my proposal.
-
-“Next morning I purposely got up late; but by the earnest and
-many-voiced conversation which I could faintly hear, upon the deck
-above me, I knew that the seed I had sown was germinating, if not
-bearing fruit.
-
-“Well, to cut a long story short, my proposal was accepted; the
-ice-block dug out and conveyed to the vessel with a good deal of
-trouble; my check certified and cashed in Victoria, where most of
-the crew were paid off, and----here we are. Now, suppose we adjourn
-to the laboratory and see if _our guest_ has completely thawed out
-yet.”
-
-The strong heat from the stove had, in truth, very nearly finished
-what the steam had begun. Though there was still a shell of ice
-surrounding the body, it was little more than a shell, and Dr. Dunne
-recommended that the next stage in the treatment should be
-approached with all expedition. Burnham, accordingly, went off to
-prepare a bath in the bath-room adjoining the studio, and when he
-hailed us, the doctor and myself carried in the zinc tray with the
-body and deposited the latter in the bath.
-
-“We must proceed very slowly,” said the doctor, as he stood by,
-thermometer in hand; “I shall begin with a temperature of fifty and
-increase it very gradually--say, in half an hour or so--to blood
-heat. All the internal organs are, of course, frozen; the lungs,
-too, are doubtless full of ice, and the first thing to be done is to
-relieve them of the water. Not the least remarkable feature,
-gentlemen,” he continued, turning to us, “is that this body must
-have been frozen almost before--in my theory, certainly before--it
-was drowned. But how to account for this? That is the point. It is
-certainly beyond the range of our scientific experience, nor can we
-conceive of any natural or chemical force powerful enough to effect
-such a result. This man, too, is clad in the garb of a tropical, or
-sub-tropical, region. These are evidently his every-day clothes
-which he is wearing. He must have been both drowned and frozen
-almost simultaneously. The drowning and the freezing must have been
-nearly coincident events--at all events, within an hour or two of
-each other. I can not see into it. I give it up,” concluded the
-doctor, with a shake of the head.
-
-“Still,” said Burnham, “have we not something of a parallel in the
-elephants which, some years ago, were found embedded in the ice to
-the north of Siberia, just as this man was? The elephant is a
-tropical animal, and can scarcely be credited with going to the
-North Pole on a pleasure trip. How do you account for that?”
-
-“Perhaps,” suggested I, “it was a case of the mountain coming to
-Mahomet in both instances. Perhaps the pole came to them. Suppose
-that through some unknown natural cause, or some outside cosmical
-agency, the axis of the earth should change abruptly, as it is
-probable that it is now doing gradually, and that what were formerly
-the equatorial regions became the polar, and _vice versâ_, what
-would naturally follow? In the first place, the oceans and seas
-would be hurled over the continents in tidal waves miles high. Only
-mountaineers dwelling in the highest altitudes would escape. That
-would be the first result. The second would be that the waters upon
-what were formerly the tropical regions would be frozen. The third
-would be----what we see before us now in that bath.”
-
-“Very ingenious, certainly,” remarked the doctor, dryly; “but we
-have got no time for speculation now. Let us attend to business. Our
-friend here should be pretty thoroughly warmed through by this time.
-Please lend a hand to get him on the operating-table.”
-
-Accordingly, we removed the body from the bath to the mattress in
-the studio, the room having been meanwhile closed and its
-temperature raised to blood heat.
-
-“We must first get the water out of the lungs,” said the doctor, as
-he reached for what looked something like a stomach-pump, but which,
-instead of the suction tube, terminated in a diaphragm made of some
-elastic substance, which he applied to the open mouth of the body,
-pressing it closely with his left hand, at the same time asking me
-to compress the nostrils tightly. The flesh was now warm, soft, and
-yielding. The doctor then drew back the piston of his pump and a
-stream of water followed through the discharge tube. This was
-repeated several times, till the lungs were pronounced free from
-water.
-
-A consultation now followed between the doctor and Burnham.
-
-“The blood in the veins and arteries,” said the doctor, “though it
-has undergone liquefaction, is probably, to a certain extent,
-coagulated. Though why,” he continued, musingly, “should such be the
-case? At any rate, let us see.”
-
-He then took a lancet from his instrument-case and proceeded to make
-an incision in the median vein of the left arm, when, to his
-manifest joy, as I could see, a few drops of blood spurted out.
-
-“Yes! it is as I thought,” he exclaimed, joyfully; “the blood has
-_not_ coagulated. It is a simple case of drowning, and, to all
-intents and purposes, our friend here is no better and no worse off
-than if he had been asphyxiated by water only a few hours ago. Mr.
-Burnham, I congratulate you,” taking that gentleman by the hand and
-shaking it with the utmost enthusiasm, “upon being instrumental in
-providing a subject for resuscitation--for resuscitate him I do not
-doubt that I shall, now that I have direct evidence that the blood
-has undergone no chemical change--a subject, compared with which a
-mere, ordinary case of drowning sinks into the most infinitesimal
-insignificance; for--who can tell?--perhaps this man has lain in
-this condition for hundreds, aye, for thousands of years; perhaps he
-belongs to a remote prehistoric age, for ice, the great embalmer,
-knows neither time nor seasons, and a thousand years are to it but
-as one hour. Whatever our friend here is, or has been, he will
-presently be one of us; he will open his mouth and unlock the
-secrets of the past. He will tell us how he came to be in his
-present plight. He will add another page to the world’s history.”
-
-I felt myself catching all the doctor’s enthusiasm, and now hung
-upon everything that he did with breathless interest.
-
-“The next step,” said the doctor, “is to stimulate the heart’s
-action and restore the circulation. To do this will require our
-united efforts. You, Mr. Burnham, will take charge of the battery
-and apply the electrodes; our friend here”--signifying myself--“will
-assist in inflating the lungs; I will attend to the circulation.
-Your battery is ready, is it not, Mr. Burnham?”
-
-The battery, with its auxiliary apparatus for intensifying the
-current, was brought round and placed on a table close by. Dr. Dunne
-then made an incision in the breast so as to expose the breast-bone,
-or sternum, and another in the back, in the region of the third
-vertebra. To the former of these the negative pole of the battery
-was applied, and to the latter the positive electrode.
-
-“Where is that phial, I wonder?” interjected the doctor, looking
-over his medicine-chest, and taking out bottle after bottle; “ah,
-here it is,” he said, at last, “here is the substance on which I
-rely to restore the action of the heart and give new life to our
-friend here. It has only lately been introduced into the
-pharmacopœia; but since its introduction it has done wonders in
-cardiac affections. It is distilled from a plant which grows only in
-East Africa. Its name is _strephanthus_, and its effect is to
-accelerate the action of the heart. It is now my purpose to inject a
-portion of this powerful stimulant into the median vein, which I
-have just opened, in our friend’s arm, whence it will be conveyed to
-the heart. Meanwhile, you, Mr. Burnham, and our friend here will
-induce artificial respiration in the lungs, so that the blood may be
-oxygenated after it has been expelled from the heart by the
-spasmodic valvular action which the _strephanthus_ will excite in
-that organ. Now, let us each attend closely to his allotted duty.”
-
-My part consisted in inflating the lungs by means of a tiny bellows,
-the nozzle of which had been introduced into the larynx, till such
-time as the breathing should become automatic and the rise and fall
-of the lungs regular. At a given signal from the doctor, Burnham
-turned on the current, the electrodes having been previously placed
-in position, and, at the same instant, the chest expanded. I plied
-my bellows as the breast rose, and a second afterward it collapsed,
-the discharged air rushing back through the larynx with a whistling
-sound. Three seconds afterward the chest rose automatically again,
-and again I assisted its rise by inflating the lungs as before. This
-was kept up for some dozen or more respirations, occupying in all
-about two minutes.
-
-Meantime, the doctor was intently engaged with a syringe and
-graduating glass at the left arm of the body. So absorbed was he in
-his occupation that he seemed oblivious to everything else. Suddenly
-he sprang to his feet, with an exclamation which startled us.
-
-“We have won!” he shouted; “see! the blood is circulating.”
-
-I looked down at the arm, and, sure enough, blood was spurting in a
-thin jet from the lower extremity of the vein which the doctor had
-severed. In my excitement I had withdrawn the bellows from the
-mouth, but there was no further use for artificial respiration, as
-the chest was now rising and falling automatically and in regular
-cadence. The doctor now tied up the severed vein, sewed up the
-incision in the arm, and, after dressing the patient--for such he
-must now be called--in a suit of Burnham’s underwear, we lifted him
-into the bureau-bed that had been prepared at the side of the studio
-next the fire.
-
-“There is nothing more to be done,” said the doctor, simply; “he
-will wake by and by of his own accord, and will then need some
-nourishment. Soup and stimulants will be the proper thing to
-administer at first.”
-
-Burnham went out and returned presently with a tray containing the
-desired refreshments. We now waited anxiously for the awakening,
-which must sooner or later come. The breathing, which had hitherto
-been labored and stertorous, was becoming easier, the color was
-returning to the cheeks, and the occasional twitching of the muscles
-showed that our strange patient was on the point of awaking. At
-length he turned on his side, opened his eyes, stared fixedly at us,
-and then uttered an exclamation in some foreign tongue. Burnham got
-up, wheeled a table to the side of the bed, set the tray of
-refreshments upon it, and motioned him to help himself, at the same
-time pouring out a glass of wine. Here Dr. Dunne interposed.
-
-“No,” he said, smiling; “after a fast of so many thousand years I
-certainly must prescribe hot water as an initiative. It is
-absolutely necessary for the stomach to begin with.”
-
-The hot water was brought, and our patient, evidently comprehending
-that he was under medical treatment, shifted his position in bed so
-as to recline upon his elbow, took the tumbler which was handed him,
-and, after eying it critically, raised it to his lips and tasted the
-contents. A shade of surprise and faint protest passed across his
-features as he elevated his eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders, and
-swallowed the potion.
-
-“Now let him attack the viands if he wants to,” said the doctor, as
-our guest’s eye roved somewhat greedily, I thought, over the table.
-Burnham pushed the tray a little nearer, no second invitation being
-necessary, and the bowl of soup that had been brought, together with
-a couple of glasses of old Madeira, speedily disappeared. This duty
-having been performed, our guest became voluble. He gesticulated and
-spoke, and, to judge by the inflexions of his voice and the
-character of his gestures, he was, I should say, appealing to us for
-an explanation of his presence there and of the strange objects
-which met his gaze. It need scarcely be said that we could not
-understand one word of what he was saying, though the voice was
-clear and mellow and the syllables of his words as distinct and
-sonorous as ancient Greek, though they bore no other resemblance to
-that language.
-
-“Suppose we bring him pen and ink and see if he can write,”
-suggested Burnham, and the idea struck us as a peculiarly happy one.
-
-Pen, ink, and paper were accordingly set upon the table. Our patient
-eyed the articles curiously for a moment or two, took up the pen,
-and examined the steel nib with an expression of critical approval,
-then took up a sheet of paper, examined its texture, and smiled, at
-the same time spreading it out before him. It was evident that he
-comprehended what was required of him, for he dipped the pen into
-the ink and wrote a few words upon the paper, guiding the pen,
-however, from right to left, according to Oriental usage. The
-characters partook more of the Chaldaic, or ancient Sanscrit, than
-any other type. As it was, none of us could make them out. Our guest
-watched our efforts at deciphering with an amused smile, but when
-one of our daily papers was handed him by Burnham, this quickly
-changed to an expression of rapt attention and intense interest. He
-did not, however, handle the sheet like a savage, but like one who
-knew the object of it, examining the words and letters with the
-closest attention, evidently to see whether he could gain any clew
-to their meaning. After a minute or two he gave up the task, and
-then, tapping his forehead with a tired expression, smiled at us,
-lay back on his pillow, and was soon fast asleep.
-
-“He will be all right by evening,” remarked the doctor; “and then,”
-turning to Burnham, “what will you do with him? Introduce him to the
-Academy of Sciences, I suppose?”
-
-“Not just yet,” returned Burnham; “I have no objection to some
-inkling of our wonderful prize getting out--our friend here,”
-alluding to me, “will, no doubt, attend to that--but I certainly
-shall not bring him before the public in any way, nor even introduce
-him to our scientific men, till I have educated him to some little
-knowledge of our language. There will, I think, be no difficulty
-about that. He is evidently a man of superior intelligence, and I
-shall go right to work in the same way as if he was any ordinary
-foreigner cast upon our shores with no knowledge of our language and
-I myself equally ignorant of his. It is merely giving names of
-objects, he learning my name for the object, I his. In that manner
-we shall speedily arrive at a solution of the all-absorbing question
-who this remarkable being is whom we have rescued from the jaws of
-death, and who, to all intents and purposes, has been dead for--who
-can tell?--how many ages past.”
-
-The events I have here detailed occurred on the ninth of August
-last. Since that time, my friend Burnham has been enthusiastically
-engaged in carrying out the project which he mapped out on the day
-of the resuscitation of his remarkable patient and guest. His tailor
-was called in, and, when Mr. Kourban Balanok, as the stranger calls
-himself, left Burnham’s studio three days after, he did so as a
-nineteenth-century gentleman, and is now installed in Burnham’s
-house as one of the family. People may have noticed the young,
-handsome, and distinguished stranger to be seen occasionally walking
-arm-in-arm with Burnham on Kearny or Market Street, but none would
-guess that he had lain in the North Polar ice in the neighborhood of
-ten thousand years. Such is the case, however, and, as he is fast
-acquiring an intimate knowledge of the English language, we may
-confidently look forward to the appearance, in the near future, of a
-detailed account of the economy of the prehistoric world, and of the
-vast cataclysm which swamped it and left Mr. Kourban Balanok
-embedded in the ice.
-
-
-
-
-LEAVES ON THE RIVER PASIG
-
-By W. O. McGeehan
-
-
-The Boulong _casco_ lay on the Quiapo Market, which is on the left
-bank of the Pasig, just below the suspension-bridge. The Chinese
-junk--tradition says--was modeled after a whimsical emperor’s shoe,
-consequently the _cascos_ of the Philippines, being really junks
-without sails, are not very dainty bits of naval architecture. As a
-rule, they are not accorded the dignity of a name; but this one was
-known as the “Boulong casco,” because it was owned and manned by
-members of one family. Santiago Boulong was steersman, his three
-sons were polemen, and Simplicia, the daughter, was _el
-capitan_--her father said, affectionately. Their permanent home was
-a little _nipa_-thatch shelter at the stern of the vessel.
-
-The men had gone ashore shortly after the mooring--the father on
-business, the sons on pleasure bent--and Simplicia, much to her
-disgust, was left on board. She was a Tagalo girl, of the
-light-complexioned type, pretty even when judged by our standards,
-of which fact she was aware.
-
-“The river, the river,” she said to herself, petulantly, “always the
-river. I was born on the river, and I have been going up and down
-the river all my life. When we come to Manila I may go ashore for a
-few hours only, and then the river again--and the lake. And Ramon is
-a fool!”
-
-It was a clear, warm night, and the rippling water of the Pasig
-glistened in the moonlight, so that she could see the leaves rush by
-in clusters. Ramon had said: “Think of me when you see the leaves on
-the river--the bright green leaves from the dear lake country. It
-seems sad to think that they must float down past the city where the
-water is fouled, and then out--far out--to be lost on the big salt
-sea.” But Ramon was always saying queer things that she could not
-understand.
-
-The murmur of drowsy voices came from the crowded huts of the
-market-place. Oh, how long till morning! She wanted to buy some bits
-of finery there, and then to stroll through the city, especially
-along the Escolta, where there were stores that exhibited splendors
-from all countries. She hoped that one of her brothers would hire a
-_carametta_ the next evening, and take her to the Lunetta, where the
-wealthy of Manila congregated to enjoy the cool night air and the
-concert. A band of Americanos played there every evening.
-
-They were wonderful men, these Americano soldiers, much taller than
-Filipinos or Spaniards, and many of them had blue eyes and hair of
-the color of gold. The pride of kings was in their stride, and they
-looked as though they feared nothing.
-
-Farther on down the river at the Alhambra Café, where the Spanish
-officers once gathered to hear the music of Spain, the orchestra
-played a new air that delighted her. There was a burst of cheering.
-The music was “Dixie,” and the demonstration was made by some
-Tennessee volunteers, who always gave something reminiscent of the
-old “rebel yell” whenever they heard it. From the Cuartel
-Infanteria, across the river, the American bugles began to shrill a
-“tattoo.” Their music was wonderful--everything pertaining to these
-big, bold men was wonderful, she thought.
-
-Something bumped against a side of the _casco_, and Simplicia
-hurried over to order away a supposed ladrone. She leaned over the
-side with such abruptness that the wooden comb slipped from her
-heavy mass of black hair. It fell a dusky curtain, and brushed the
-upturned face of a man. He was not a little brown Filipino, but a
-tall Americano, fair and yellow-haired. He laughed a soft, pleasant
-laugh. She drew herself backward with a frightened cry, but his eyes
-held hers. The man was standing in a small canoe, steadying his
-craft by holding on to the _casco_.
-
-“_Buenas noches_,” he said, smiling. He spoke Spanish, but not like
-a Spaniard or a Tagalo. Simplicia smiled, faintly. She knew that she
-should go into the _nipa_ cabin, but this handsome man looked so
-kind and--Ramon was a fool. And her father and brothers were
-selfish, and----
-
-So Simplicia returned the salutation, and stood leaning over the
-bulwark tasting the delirious delight of her first flirtation. The
-man--he was a college boy until the United States Government gave
-him a suit of khaki and the right to bear the former
-designation--thrilled with joy at the delicious novelty of the
-situation. He was in a city that was at once the tropics and the
-Orient, and over which hung the glamour of departed mediæval days.
-For several hundred years guitars had tinkled on that river, and
-voices had been lifted to laticed windows. The air was laden with
-ghosts of everything but common sense and scruples.
-
-A bugle across the river caused the man to recollect that he was
-under certain restraint. “I must go,” he said, but he did not
-release his hold on the _casco_.
-
-Simplicia’s eyes were big and bright in the moonlight. He stretched
-out one arm and drew her face toward him. She tore herself away, and
-stood breathing hurriedly through parted lips.
-
-“_Mañana por la noche_,” said the soldier. He plied the paddle
-vigorously, and the canoe glided away. But he looked back,
-longingly, for Simplicia’s lips were very soft and warm.
-
-She stood gazing after him till the canoe vanished into the shadow
-of the Cuartel Infanteria. The unseen bugle softly wailed “taps,”
-the call that bids the soldier rest. It is also sounded over graves.
-
-                 *       *       *       *       *
-
-The sun beat down fiercely on the Pasig. Canoes toiled up and
-skimmed down the river. Lumbering _cascos_, their crews naked to
-their waists, were poled painfully along. The Quiapo Market was
-astir with a babble of tongues, the barking of dogs, and the
-incessant challenge of hundreds of game-cocks. The little brown
-people bought, sold, and bargained with the full strength of their
-lungs.
-
-Simplicia, as purser of the _casco_, was in the market purchasing
-provisions, but she spent most of her time near the stall of a
-Chinese vender of fabrics. After much haggling, she became the
-possessor of a dainty bodice of silk and piña cloth.
-
-Most of the girls who visited the market-place seemed to be drawn to
-that spot, for there Simplicia met a friend who had left the lake
-country a little later than herself.
-
-“Ramon will come down the river to-night,” said the friend,
-breathlessly, delighted to carry a message of that sort. “He has
-written something that he thinks they may print in _La Libertad_.
-Isn’t that wonderful? You must feel so proud of him. For a man to be
-able to write at all is wonderful--but for the papers!”
-
-Apparently there were no words in the Tagalo dialect strong enough
-to express the girl’s admiration. Simplicia tossed her head,
-loosening the hair, a frequent happening. She caught the heavy
-tresses quickly, and almost forgot for an instant everything but the
-last time they had fallen.
-
-“Are you not pleased?” asked the other girl, in astonishment. She
-was dark, and not pretty from any point of view.
-
-“Oh, yes,” drawled Simplicia, “but Ramon is very tedious sometimes,
-and the lake country is very dreary. We will go into the city this
-afternoon and see the Americanos.”
-
-They saw many Americanos--State volunteers clad in blue shirts and
-khaki trousers. The city was full of them. They occupied all the
-barracks formerly the quarters of the Spanish soldiers, and they
-crowded the drinking-resorts. Along the Calle Real they came upon
-companies drilling, and on the Lunetta they saw an entire regiment
-on dress-parade.
-
-Simplicia, though she scanned every soldier’s face, did not see the
-stranger of the previous night, nor did she see a face that seemed
-nearly as handsome.
-
-“They say,” mused the other girl, “that the men of Aguinaldo will
-drive these Americanos out of Manila if they do not go of their own
-accord soon.”
-
-Simplicia laughed scornfully, and pointed toward the troops. The men
-were in battalion front, standing at “present,” and the sun
-glistened on a thousand bayonets.
-
-“But there are only a few Americanos and there are many thousands of
-Filipinos,” said the girl.
-
-“The Americanos will take what they want and nothing can stop them,”
-announced Simplicia, decisively. “Let us go to our _cascos_.”
-
-                 *       *       *       *       *
-
-The twilight gathered on the river. In the north the sky was lit by
-continuous flashes of lightning. Myriads of stars were overhead, and
-the Southern Cross was viceroy of the heavens, for the moon had not
-yet come into her kingdom. The water noisily gurgled by, and
-Simplicia waited. Which would come first, the tedious Filipino
-school-master lover or the stranger? Would the Americano come again?
-
-She watched every canoe that passed, but they were all going up or
-down. The moon appeared and clearly revealed the river’s surface.
-Simplicia fixed her eyes on the shadow of the Cuartel Infanteria.
-Something emerged from it and glided rapidly through the stream. It
-was a canoe, and it was being paddled with strong, sure strokes
-toward her. Her heart beat tumultuously, and she almost cried out in
-her delight.
-
-He came, and, fastening his canoe, swung himself aboard the _casco_.
-Her arms were about his neck in an instant, and her beautiful
-tresses escaped the comb again.
-
-They sat in the shade of the _nipa_ thatch talking in low tones. His
-arm was round her waist. Her head rested on his shoulder. He puffed
-with deep breaths of enjoyment a cigarette that she had daintily lit
-for him. The intoxication of the country was in his brain--the devil
-that whispers, “There is nothing but pleasure, and no time but now.”
-
-The _plunk-plunk_ of a guitar close by startled them both. Simplicia
-trembled violently.
-
-“It is a foolish man who is always singing to me,” she explained.
-
-A clear, musical voice rose in a song, and the soldier checked a
-question to listen, for the voice and the song charmed him from the
-first note. The song was in Spanish, and, though he was by no means
-perfect in the language, he caught the meaning and spirit of it. It
-ran something to this effect:
-
-    Bright are the leaves and the blossoms that grow in the
-      beautiful lake country,
-
-    They fill the place with brilliance of things celestial.
-
-    Some of them drop or are thrown to the river,
-
-    Helpless they drift on its swift running surface.
-
-    Down past the city through sliminess foul,
-
-    Out they are whirled to waters eternal
-
-    Lost and forgotten forever and ever.
-
-    Blossom I cherish; I’ll hold thee.
-
-    Never shalt thou leave the lake country.
-
-    But my heart, it is sad for the leaves on the Pasig.
-
-The last words died on the air like the sob or the faint cry of a
-passing spirit. The soldier sat mute, like one bewitched by fairy
-music. Simplicia’s lips, pressed against his cheek, brought him back
-to her.
-
-“I do not care for him. On my soul, I do not!” she whispered. She
-was pretty, and her arm tightened coaxingly about his neck. His
-better nature was conquered, and the devil in his blood reigned
-supreme. The situation suddenly seemed highly amusing, and he
-laughed a suppressed laugh of recklessness. To be serenaded by a
-native poet while the arm of the troubadour’s lady-love encircled
-his neck--verily he would have a great tale to tell some day.
-
-There was a faint sound of a footfall on the deck of the _casco_.
-The soldier disengaged himself. A face peeped in through an opening
-in the thatch, and the American struck it a sharp blow with his
-fist. He would have rushed after the intruder, but Simplicia held
-him.
-
-“It is only a foolish man,” she said, “do not follow him. It would
-make trouble.”
-
-“I would not bring you any trouble,” he said. “What is the matter?
-You tremble.”
-
-“It is nothing,” she replied. “I love you.”
-
-The soldier’s conscience smote him. He swore that he loved her, and
-tried to believe that it was true. She seemed almost happy again.
-
-“To-morrow the _casco_ goes up to the lake again, and we will be
-gone three days. Oh, that is so long!”
-
-“Very long,” he assented.
-
-“But you will wait and think of me always.”
-
-“Yes, I will watch the leaves on the river----”
-
-She shuddered.
-
-“No! no! Do not speak of them. _Madre de Dios!_ I hate the river,
-and I hate the leaves it drags along. I think I hate everything but
-you.”
-
-The soldier was young, and this was his first experience with
-hysteria and woman, which combination often disturbs even wiser
-heads. It disturbed him exceedingly, but he soothed her finally with
-the wildest vows and many kisses. He kissed a tress of her long hair
-as he stepped from the _casco’s_ poling platform into his canoe.
-
-For the second time she watched the canoe till it glided into the
-shadows. Then she shivered violently, chilled to the bone.
-
-                 *       *       *       *       *
-
-A sergeant of a certain regiment of United States volunteers was
-prowling along the brink of the Pasig, outside the Cuartel
-Infanteria’s walls, looking for a pet monkey that had disappeared.
-Something in the long grass caught his eye, and he stopped. He
-stepped back quickly and hurried around the corner of the wall,
-returning with four soldiers.
-
-He parted the grass with his arms, and they saw the dead body of a
-Filipino girl. Her face was concealed by a disordered mass of black
-hair, and, pinned to her breast by a rudely fashioned knife that was
-buried to the hilt, was a miniature insurgent flag.
-
-They tenderly bore the body to the pathway, and the hair fell from
-the face. One of the soldiers let go his hold and tottered to the
-ground.
-
-“Harrison’s a softy,” grunted one of the men. “Take hold, sergeant.
-He’s fainted, I guess.”
-
-The form was placed in an unused storeroom. When the news went round
-the men came to view it, not out of curiosity, but to show respect
-such as they would pay to their own dead.
-
-“This is the way I make it out,” said the sergeant, sagely. “The
-girl was killed by Aguinaldo’s gang, and it must have been because
-she spoke a good word for our people.”
-
-“And we’ll take it out of their hides when the time comes,” said one
-of the soldiers, snapping his jaws together, which resolution the
-regiment unanimously adopted. Even the chaplain refrained from
-chiding when he heard of it. He knew his flock.
-
-There being no way of finding out anything about the girl, a fund
-was quickly collected and arrangements made for the funeral. Several
-hundred soldiers followed the hearse to the cemetery at El Paco.
-
-The regimental chaplain read the regulation burial service, while
-the men stood with bared heads. They placed at the head of the
-freshly made mound a plain board that read:
-
-                  FOUND IN THE PASIG.
-
-After the last soldier had gone, a cowering thing walked unsteadily
-up to the grave, and, kneeling beside it, laid down a cluster of
-green leaves.
-
-“By God! I did love her. I did,” he muttered, continuously. He drew
-a pencil from his pocket and scratched her name on the board:
-“Simplicia.”
-
-And his youth was buried there.
-
-
-
-
-THE GREAT EUCHRE BOOM
-
-By Charles Fleming Embree
-
-
-To Euchretown, Los Angeles County, came Mr. Stoker and his wife. He
-bought ranches, and, strikingly dressed, drove about in the
-rubber-tired buggies of real-estate agents; while Mrs. Stoker, a
-handsome young woman, sniffed the social air. Just what should she
-do to win, with _éclat_, the commanding place in the local feminine
-view? For her no slow progress to social supremacy! Rather the
-Napoleonic sweeping away of rivals.
-
-At that stage of its rise from a desert to a paradise Euchretown was
-belied by its name. A sombreness hovered over the thought of the
-place; the method of life was Puritanic. Euchre? One would have
-thought there was never a deck in the town.
-
-“I don’t want to be un-Christian,” snapped the wife of Reverend
-Hummel; “but I wish that Mrs. Stoker had never stuck her foot in
-this town.”
-
-Mrs. Hummel was out of place linked to a preacher. Fairly well had
-she clothed her mind in the prevalent Puritanic mood; but in her
-heart she was different. As for social leaders, she was the one, and
-she knew it.
-
-“Why, Jennie,” complained the Reverend Hummel, a pale gentleman with
-eyes that ever bespoke a receptive surprise at his debts; “your
-words ring evil. And then the term you employed--stuck. How, pray,
-could Mrs. Stoker stick her foot?”
-
-At this moment the maid (employed despite the mortgaged condition of
-Hummel’s real estate) ushered in Mrs. Banker Wheelock.
-
-“And _have_ you heard the news about Mrs. Stoker!” cried Mrs.
-Wheelock, as Mr. Hummel, wandering away, hummed “Throw Out the Life
-Line” in a fumbling voice. “Oh, haven’t you got an invitation?”
-
-“What is it?” said Mrs. Hummel, darkly.
-
-“A euchre-party! Everybody!”
-
-Mrs. Hummel’s arms dropped limp.
-
-“But, of course,” she said, “nobody will go.”
-
-“They’re all wild about it!” ejaculated Mrs. Wheelock; “Mrs. Stoker
-is said to have struck the psychological moment.”
-
-Mrs. Hummel started up.
-
-“There hasn’t been a card-party for years!” cried she; “where’ll she
-get her decks? Does she carry around a trunk full? Or will she clean
-out the saloons? But----” and the tears leaped up to her lashes, “I
-wouldn’t be un-Christian about it.”
-
-Mrs. Wheelock arose and laid her hands on Mrs. Hummel’s arm.
-
-“Of course, dear, you know the only reason you wouldn’t be invited
-is that you’re the preacher’s wife,” soothed she; and then, with a
-puzzled air: “That _must_ be the reason.”
-
-Now the maid brought in an envelope. It was Mr. and Mrs. Hummel’s
-invitation to Mrs. Stoker’s euchre-party. The eye of Jennie met that
-of Mrs. Wheelock, as a partial relief made its way into the breast
-of the preacher’s wife.
-
-“Did you ever hear of such impudence?” she breathed.
-
-                 *       *       *       *       *
-
-Mrs. Stoker had a new green cottage with nine Corinthian pillars
-(capitals enormously ornate) along her front porch. Within, electric
-lights, white-pine woodwork, brilliant floral tributes of Axminster
-carpets, and bird’s-eye maple furniture combined to produce an
-effect luxurious, irrefutable.
-
-“Oh, yes,” natty Stoker was saying to the men, “I gave him three
-thousand for his ten acres. Wheelock, run over to the city with me
-to-morrow and look at the Pasadena Villa Tract. I’ve a mind to pick
-up a bunch of those lots.”
-
-“O _Mrs._ Hummel!” came Mrs. Stoker’s winning voice, and everybody
-listened. There was the purple-draped hostess flowing toward the
-preacher’s wife. “I was dreadfully afraid you wouldn’t come! I’m
-_so_” (powerful kiss) “glad you did! And dear Mr. Hummel?”
-
-“To-night he works on his sermon,” said Mrs. Hummel, beaming about
-on the faces of the alert and delightfully surprised company. “I
-persuaded him to run in for me later; for I just came to look on. Of
-course,” here she turned the sweet lips toward Mrs. Stoker, “you
-couldn’t expect us to play.”
-
-Mrs. Stoker put new fuel in her smile to Mrs. Hummel; and Mrs.
-Hummel did likewise further fire up her smile to Mrs. Stoker; and
-the edified company sat down.
-
-The games went on with a vim that made it seem some hungry gambling
-spirit, dormant in the town, rose up and reveled. Mrs. Stoker had
-risked it all on her belief in the psychological moment--and won!
-The town was ready for sin.
-
-“And that little statue is the prize,” now said Mrs. Stoker, moving
-about. “Mrs. Hummel, would you hold it up?”
-
-All eyes came round in sneaking way toward Mrs. Hummel, who grew
-pallid. There, on the mantel, near her hand as she stood to watch,
-was the statuette--a nude Greek maid.
-
-“Would you mind holding it up? They can’t see,” repeated Mrs.
-Stoker, louder, fires in her eyes.
-
-Hypnotized, Mrs. Hummel lifted it and saw a price tag, $7.50.
-
-“Why,” said she, forcing into her voice the daring experiment of a
-note of censure, “I didn’t know there was to be a prize!”
-
-“Oh,” echoed Mrs. Wheelock from a distance, instilling into her
-tones a strain of triumph, “I didn’t know there was to be a prize!”
-
-“No!” chimed all the women, in mutually sanctioning delight, “we
-didn’t know there was to be a prize!”
-
-“Just a cheap little thing,” said Mrs. Stoker.
-
-A new brightening of eyes fastened on euchre decks. The games went
-on with strange excitement; for, lo! all the women had suddenly
-resolved to win or ruin their nerves in the fight.
-
-“Would you punch--while I look to the sherbet?” whispered Mrs.
-Stoker to Mrs. Hummel, with new, bald patronage.
-
-The preacher’s wife stared round. The fascination of the game was
-influencing her. She felt her footing go; she saw the Stoker
-triumph, the reins gone from her hand. Desperately did she leap at
-this only chance to cling to the victorious vehicle of pleasure
-which her rival from this night on was to drive headlong through the
-Puritanic mood of Euchretown.
-
-Mrs. Hummel punched the cards.
-
-More fierce became the spirit of gaming, until, with final shriek of
-delight, Mrs. Wheelock won the statue. Followed by jealous eyes she
-took it.
-
-“Splendid!” she cried, examining the tag and seeing $7.50. Then she
-passed it round. “Beautiful!” said the women, seeing $7.50.
-
-And the corruption of Euchretown was accomplished.
-
-We pass hastily to the strange fury in its later vigor. From the
-night of the initiative prize an extraordinary inflation went on
-apace. Scarcely had a week elapsed (full of gossip at the Stoker’s
-indubitable success) when Mrs. Wheelock gave a second euchre-party.
-And when the guests flocked to the banker’s two-story house in the
-mission style (on the fifty-foot lot which he bought for $1,400 of
-Jeffreys Sassy), they were yet more morally poisoned to observe, on
-the cut-glass dish which she awarded to shrieking Mrs. Botts, the
-half-extinguished price-mark, $9.65.
-
-For six days, $9.65 was a sort of tag to the town’s mental status;
-when, to the thrilling of all, Mrs. George Botts did suddenly cast
-out invitations; and at Mrs. Bott’s brilliant affair, Mrs. Stoker,
-after a dashing race neck-and-neck with six women who all but beat
-her, won a clock on the bottom of which, mysteriously blurred, the
-figures $13.75 could, after careful scrutiny, be distinguished.
-
-The value of the prize at the fourth party was $15; at the sixth,
-$19; at the ninth, $25.50. Agape, the town stared ahead at its
-coming dizzy course. Then Mrs. Samuel Lethwait, taciturn woman,
-stupefied the inhabitants of the place by making one flying leap
-from $25 to $50. Out of the ranks, out of the number of the unfeared
-had Mrs. Lethwait made her daring rise.
-
-There was an instant’s recoil. Could Mrs. Stoker, Mrs. Wheelock,
-Mrs. Botts pause now? Their shoulders were at the wheel, their hands
-on the flying plow which tore up such amazing furrows in the social
-field. The recoil was but momentary. At the very hour when Mrs.
-Botts was putting on her hat, sworn to buy a prize worth $60, there
-fell into her agitated hand an invitation. Mrs. Stoker had sprung to
-the breach.
-
-A scramble for the cottage of the nine pillars. And behold on the
-golden lamp there displayed as prize, were the shameless figures,
-$75.00.
-
-Now had the insanity taken general root. He who fails to understand
-knows not California. The dangerous mania once contracted, no matter
-what its form, must continue till the collapse. If the gold fury of
-’49, and the equally furious land boom of ’87, are not
-object-lessons enough, let the sociologist recall the Belgian hares.
-And if yet he doubts the historical verity of such a cast in the
-California mind, let him give this euchre boom his careful
-consideration. As men bid for twenty-five foot lots in San Diego in
-the insane days of ’87, so did women now bid, under the thin
-disguise of euchre prizes, for choice positions in the social field
-of Euchretown. It was the old disease.
-
-In two more leaps the prizes had advanced to a hundred. And, most
-significant of all, seldom was the price of a prize now paid down.
-The credit system had saved the day. The people of Euchretown were
-not millionaires. Few felt able to toss out a hundred with this
-rapid periodicity. So small first payments, contracts, “the rest in
-six and twelve,” became the rule.
-
-In the rear dust of this race, panting, tagged Mrs. Hummel. Again
-and again, contrary to the will of pained Mr. Hummel (who to himself
-sang “Throw Out the Life Line” in despair), did she attend, punch
-cards, look on with jealous eye; yet she did not play. She was a
-buffer whom the sinners held between their gaming and their
-consciences. Oh, how she longed to give a party that would stagger
-the general mind!
-
-Now for a fatal three weeks Mr. Hummel was in Oregon. Two sleepless
-nights his wife spent tossing, then arose feverish, stood on the
-high pinnacle of temptation, and plunged down.
-
-First she went for a prize. The price had risen to a hundred and
-forty; she must act quick; now!--lest she be ruined, for the boom
-waited for no man. At a furniture store she asked information on the
-contract system. The dealer (who had furnished prizes) was confused;
-he could not accept the Hummel’s contract. Why? she gasped. Oh, he
-hastened, it was not for doubts of the Hummel honesty; it was for
-doubts of the honesty of the community. In the present furious state
-he did not believe the Hummels would get their salary! Infinitely
-sorry, infinitely polite was he; and she went away dazed.
-
-But she would do it or die. One more hour of suffering brought her
-back.
-
-“I’ll mortgage our household goods,” said she, dry-eyed, “till
-Hummel returns.” And he agreed.
-
-So, Mrs. Stoker’s old slain rival rose up astonishing over the
-horizon. The chill that ran through the community with Mrs. Hummel’s
-invitations, gave way to white heat, and everybody, euchre mad, now
-rushed to the preacher’s home.
-
-Mrs. Hummel’s struggles had been heroic; the house was decorated as
-never before, the refreshments were beyond any that Mrs. Stoker had
-conceived. And on the portières (given as a prize) the mark one
-hundred and fifty dollars stook forth a challenge.
-
-Mrs. Stoker, playing recklessly, lost; and her drawn face suggested
-nervous collapse and thoughts criminal. But a crisis in the social
-life of Euchretown was now imminent. There was yet another element
-to Mrs. Hummel’s victory; a murmur went round of the coming ruin of
-Stoker. As ladies moved to tables they eyed Mrs. Stoker, and
-whispered gossip; as men sat down they hinted at revelations,
-speaking in one another’s ears.
-
-“What is it?” whispered Mrs. Hummel, huskily, to Mrs. Wheelock.
-
-“They say that Stoker is found out; that he gave false title to some
-land!”
-
-At that moment Stoker’s wild, unnatural laugh was heard.
-
-In the final neck-and-neck sprint to the goal, Mrs. Stoker, gone to
-pieces, wretched, was distanced; Mrs. Botts carried off the
-portières; the party broke up, and Mrs. Hummel’s night of sinful
-conquering passed into history.
-
-When Hummel returned, the news emaciated him. He went to bed and lay
-ill for a week, and nobody threw out the life line to him. Nay, even
-the bed he lay on came near to being snatched from under him. And
-now, with the boom trembling on the verge of collapse, with
-everybody’s contracts coming due, bills began to rain upon the
-preacher’s head.
-
-“Jennie,” groaned he, “you have ruined me. See, they haven’t paid my
-salary, and the furniture man is mad. We will be cast into the
-street!”
-
-Then there fell into Mrs. Hummel’s hands an envelope--“Mrs.
-Stoker--at home--Friday night--euchre!”
-
-“Why,” cried Mrs. Wheelock, bursting in with Mrs. Botts, “everybody
-knows that the Stokers are on the brink of ruin. They say he is
-fighting like mad to keep his head up--maybe to keep out of jail!
-This is their final fling. And everybody has learned about her
-prize. Guess what it is!”
-
-“And guess what it cost!” shouted Mrs. Botts.
-
-“I wouldn’t be un-Christian about it,” declared Jennie, “but I do
-think swindlers had better hide their heads. What is the thing,
-then, and what does it cost?”
-
-There was an impressive hush.
-
-“A bedroom set worth two hundred! And she’s let everybody know that
-she paid cash down for it.”
-
-They all gazed at one another, the fire of gaming in their eyes.
-
-“She is making one last grand play,” said they.
-
-One day of gloom did Mrs. Hummel pass in Hummel’s bedroom, arguing,
-pleading. To Hummel, he and the whole town were gone to the devil.
-
-“No! Never!” cried he, receiving more duns, and shaken.
-
-But at last toward night he arose and, haunted, went to the furniture
-store. In the window was the bedroom set, and over it a sign, “The
-prize for Mrs. Stoker’s euchre-party.” Staring, the emaciated Hummel
-lost his soul.
-
-“Would it cover the bill,” he whispered, hoarsely, in the dealer’s
-back room, “if we won it?”
-
-“About,” mused the dealer; “Hummel, since it’s you. I’d call it
-square.”
-
-And Hummel returned, unsteady on his feet.
-
-                 *       *       *       *       *
-
-Once again the cottage of the Corinthian pillars shone with the
-brilliancy of a euchre evening. Stoker was making a high play
-to-night to keep his footing with the men. Mrs. Stoker had rouged to
-hide the pallor of her cheeks. The house distanced all previous
-efforts in its decorations, the refreshments were beyond the
-experience of the most high-rolling citizen of the town.
-
-Behold, in came Mrs. Hummel, her blood up.
-
-“And dear Mr. Hummel?” asked Mrs. Stoker, taking Mrs. Hummel’s hand
-in both of hers.
-
-“Hummel’s in bed,” said Jennie, tersely; “Mrs. Stoker, I’ll play
-to-night.”
-
-A moment’s silence, as of a solitude; then a great hubbub, the
-guests making for tables.
-
-“So glad!” cried Mrs. Stoker; “we’ve always hoped you would!”
-
-“So glad!” shrieked all the women into Mrs. Hummel’s ear; and the
-games began.
-
-Why dwell on the mad scramble? That night was the culmination.
-Disgraceful as was the thing in itself, it pales before the disgrace
-incident to a mood of reckless confession which seized the company.
-Somebody blurted out that she’d win that two hundred or die. Then a
-nigh insane man in a corner shouted across the room, to the shocking
-of all: “Let’s make it poker!”
-
-The laugh that greeted this was spasmodic; and all at once right
-before Mrs. Hummel on the central table, Mr. Stoker, as though he
-had lost his mind, and grown wild and cynical, began to deal
-out--ten-dollar bills from his deck. These Mr. Wheelock snatched up
-and shook aloft with fearful merriment under the chandelier.
-
-In that instant the boom collapsed. Who could predict the
-psychological moment? The sight of the ten-dollar bills was too
-much. Shame rushed into every breast; the reaction began; and
-henceforth in the hands of everybody but Mrs. Hummel (who, brain on
-fire, had failed to catch the significance of the moment), euchre
-fell a limp and lifeless thing.
-
-And that alone is why the preacher’s wife, who scarcely knew her
-bowers, won the bedroom set.
-
-A sudden, fierce knocking at the door, and in burst an officer.
-
-“I have a warrant for the arrest of John Stoker,” said he.
-
-“I’m here,” said Stoker, sneering and white; and Mrs. Stoker
-fainted.
-
-Everybody stared; all seized hats; like rats the euchre players
-slunk away; the Corinthian cottage, like a bedizened but deserted
-courtesan, stood gaudily shining in the night, alone.
-
-Later the town awoke, as the high-roller awakes next morning with a
-suffering and repentant head, and the readjustment began. Everybody
-owed somebody for prizes, as, in ’88, everybody owed somebody for
-lots. Everybody was a buffer to everybody. The thing let itself down
-and evened itself up, and nobody was hard on anybody. And thus the
-euchre boom passed into history.
-
-Now the church people began to rehabilitate their consciences. And
-Banker Wheelock hit upon a scheme. As financier of the bankrupt
-soul, Wheelock will ever stand out a genius.
-
-“Why,” said he to Botts, “we did it to help Hummel.”
-
-“True,” said Botts, dazzled; “let’s go and tell him.”
-
-And on a Saturday evening a score of citizens came to Hummel’s
-house.
-
-Hummel was lying pallid on a lounge.
-
-“We’ve come,” said Wheelock, blandly, “to felicitate you. We
-couldn’t bear to see you carry that debt, Hummel. We fixed the
-little thing in what was, I agree, an unprecedented way. But when we
-schemed beforehand with Mrs. Stoker to give a party and pass the
-victory on to your wife--Hummel, my friend, our hearts went with
-it!”
-
-And Hummel, seeing this astonishing loophole for them all, arose to
-greet the general smile.
-
-“Kind friends,” said he, in trembling relief, “more blessed is it to
-give than to receive.”
-
-
-
-
-THE SORCERY OF ASENATH
-
-By Maria Roberts
-
-
-People often ask me why I gave up a promising business career and
-devoted myself to traveling, in which I find no pleasure; exploring,
-for which I have no taste; and archæology, which is to me the most
-tiring of pursuits. The question has never been answered, save by
-the statement that there is no reason to give, which involves the
-telling of an incredible story.
-
-There are two or three to whom I would like to tell it. If they
-survive me, they shall know--to that end, these pages.
-
-It is my conviction that whatever intelligent man has known, he has
-tried to record in some way--that living truths, new to us, may be
-gleaned from the stone tablets of races extinct for ages. For such a
-truth, I am searching. One man found it, but he is dead. His spirit
-I have called up, as the woman at Endor called up Samuel, and
-questioned it. He told me that the knowledge had sent it to the
-world of shades before its time, and had put power into the hands of
-an evil one, who had bidden it never in any place to reveal to any
-mortal what it knew.
-
-“Even yet I must obey her,” said the spirit of Paul Glen; “but what
-you seek is written.”
-
-As yet, I have not read. Many strange things have I unearthed, but
-never this that I seek.
-
-Now, I will write my story. You who read it may believe or not, as
-you see fit. I know that it is true.
-
-It is many years now since I went South to visit my sister Helen. I
-had not seen her since the day of her marriage, three years before,
-till she met me at the door of her own home and welcomed me in her
-old sweet and quiet manner. It seemed to me, at the first glance,
-that her face had aged too much, and that a certain once fine
-expression--a suggestion of latent determination--had overdeveloped,
-and marked her with stern lines. From the first moment, too, I
-feared the existence of a trouble in her life, of which her letters
-had given no hint.
-
-She seemed, though, cheerful enough. She led the way into a great
-room that was shaded and cool and full of the scent of lilacs. With
-a motion of her hand, she dismissed three or four black maids, whom
-she had been assisting or instructing at some sewing work, and they
-went out, courtesying and showing their white, even teeth at the
-door.
-
-A fourth did not leave, but retired to a far end of the room and
-went on with the sewing. I noticed what a tiny garment she was
-making, and what a sharply cut silhouette her face made against the
-white curtain of the window by which she sat.
-
-Helen chatted away, apologizing for her husband’s absence, asking a
-host of questions, and planning some pleasure for every one of the
-days of my stay with her. I lay back in my chair, with a feeling of
-languid content, and listened. When Helen suggested sleep and
-refreshment, I declined both, feeling no need of anything but her
-presence and that delicious room, the atmosphere of which was laden
-with rest as with the scent of the lilacs.
-
-The black woman sat directly in the line of my vision, and I
-remember now that my gaze never strayed from her. I noticed, idly at
-first, then with interest, the regularity of her features and the
-grand proportions of her head and bust. Her hair, brownish in color,
-with dull copper tints, was as straight as my own, and she had a
-hand and arm so perfectly molded that, except for their black skin,
-they might have been those of a lady of high degree. But it was the
-pride, speaking from every line of that dark face, that most
-attracted my notice. There was in it, too, an exultant sense of
-power, and it was the most resolute face, black or white, that I
-ever saw.
-
-Presently I began to feel that it required an effort to keep the
-thread of what Helen said, and to reply. Her voice seemed to get
-faint, then to come in snatches, with an indistinct murmur between
-them; at last, not at all, though I knew she was still speaking.
-
-I was not unconscious, but perception was contracted and
-concentrated upon one abnormal effort. From me a narrow path of
-light stretched down the room to the black woman. She seemed to
-expand and to grow luminous; a vapor exhaled from her, floated to
-the middle of the pathway, and there assumed her own form, almost
-nude, perfect like her face in its every line, motionless as if
-carved from ebony, but with fierce, impure eyes that looked straight
-into mine and from which there seemed to be no escape.
-
-Their gaze begot an overwhelming sense of disgust. My soul
-shuddered, but my body could not move. The evil face smiled. A cloud
-floated over the form of ebony, slowly passed away, revealing one
-like polished ivory, but the eyes changed not.
-
-How long their gaze held me motionless and helpless I do not know.
-Suddenly, something white shut out the vision, and my sister’s
-voice, now harsh and loud, struck upon my hearing like a lash.
-Instantly the room assumed its ordinary appearance, the scent of the
-lilacs greeted me as if I had newly come into the atmosphere, and
-Helen, in her white dress, stood before me, trembling.
-
-The negress at the window looked at us both with insolent amusement.
-It was to her that Helen spoke.
-
-“How dared you!” she exclaimed; “oh, that I could punish you as you
-deserve!”
-
-The girl smiled and slowly drew her needle through the cloth in her
-lap.
-
-“Go out to Lucas,” commanded Helen. “Go!”
-
-The girl drew herself up, and her face took on an expression of
-sullen defiance. It seemed for an instant that she would not obey.
-She clenched her hands, and I heard her teeth grate together. But
-she hesitated only a moment, then went slowly out of the room.
-Presently she passed by the window, pushing a heavy barrow full of
-earth. Lucas, the gardener, followed, carrying a long gad. In a
-minute or two they passed again, going in the same direction, and
-afterward again and again. The girl was pushing the barrow around
-and around the house.
-
-“That is the heaviest and most menial employment I can devise for
-her,” said Helen; “I wish there were something worse. She grows more
-impudent every day, but this is the first time she has dared to
-exert her snaky power upon a white person in my presence. How did
-you feel while you were under that spell?”
-
-“Now, Helen, for heaven’s sake don’t imagine----”
-
-“I imagine nothing,” she interrupted, in a low voice. “I know that
-girl. She can do strange things. If ever a human creature was
-possessed of a devil, she is.”
-
-“Why, Helen!”
-
-She went on without heeding my astonishment. “Every negro on the
-plantation, except Lucas, is mortally afraid of her. My birds cower
-in a corner of their cage if she approaches them, the gentlest horse
-we have will rear and kick at sight of her, and if she goes into the
-poultry-yard the hens cover up their chicks as if night had come.
-She has affected others as she did you. She has done worse. When I
-first came here, she was given to me for a maid; but, not liking
-her, I took a little mulatto girl who was bright and smart then, but
-who is now idiotic through fear of Asenath.”
-
-I did not think it best to dispute with Helen, knowing her well
-enough to be sure that any argument I could adduce against her
-belief she had already weighed and found wanting. She was not a
-superstitious woman, nor a hasty one, but one whose very mistakes
-deserved respect, since she always took that course of action which
-she believed to be wisest and best, even if it were to her own
-disadvantage. I simply asked: “Why do you not get rid of her?”
-
-“I have tried, but something frustrates every effort of that kind.
-Robert objects to sale--it is unusual on this plantation. We once
-offered her her freedom if she would go away; but she only looked as
-if she scorned the freedom we could give, and laughed in a way that
-chilled my blood.”
-
-“She seems very insolent.”
-
-“Insolent--that is a weak word! I sometimes think she is
-birth-marked with impudence as she is with straight hair.”
-
-“That hair, then, is a birth-mark? I thought it must be a wig.”
-
-“She was born with it and with an insane craving to be white. When a
-child, she used to scream and shriek over her blackness for hours at
-a time. Mother Glen whipped that out of her.”
-
-“It is a pity she did not whip out some of her other peculiarities.”
-
-“Mother Glen was much to blame for some of them. You knew Paul Glen,
-and what a strange, silent being he was--always absorbed in some
-mysterious pursuits, roving from one lost region to another, coming
-home, now and then, for a day and leaving, as if for a short time,
-to be heard of after months of inquiry in Hyderabad, or Jerusalem,
-or the heart of Guinea. Well, after he came home the last time he
-made Asenath the subject of numerous psychological experiments. He
-could mesmerize any one--what other gifts he had is not known; but
-he called mesmerism child’s play. Mother Glen did not object to his
-making this use of the girl, because she did not wish to cross Paul
-and have him go away again. It is my belief that Asenath discovered,
-through some of his experiments, the existence of an occult power in
-herself. Before long, she had Paul completely under her control. I
-had not yet come here; but Mother Glen told me about it, and that
-any effort to break the spell made Paul perfectly furious. He taught
-her to read, and to sing, and obeyed her in everything--think of it!
-After a while he fell sick, but it was thought not dangerously.
-Asenath nursed him, and he would not eat or drink unless she bade
-him.”
-
-“That, though, may have been a mere whim, such as the sick often
-take.”
-
-She shook her head. “You have not heard all: Two of the
-servants--Mammy Clara and Belinda--declare that they overheard
-Asenath forbid Paul ever to touch food again, and tell him that she
-would pretend to bid him eat, but he must not do so. And it is
-certainly true that he at last refused all sustenance and died of
-starvation.”
-
-“What a horrible idea!”
-
-“Shortly before Paul was stricken down,” Helen proceeded, “he
-disposed of all his property--it was in securities of various
-kinds--and we have never been able to find out what he did with the
-money he received. Thousands and thousands of dollars took wing
-somehow. It was never brought here, so she could not have stolen it
-actually, but I am as sure that Asenath knows where that money is as
-I am that I live.”
-
-“Now, Helen, be sensible, do.”
-
-“Mother Glen was a sensible woman, and she believed as I do. She
-said the girl was uncanny. Moreover, she declared to me that Asenath
-had set out to conquer her as she did Paul, and that it was only by
-constant resistance that she prevented her from gaining her object.
-There was a psychic contest between them. Mother Glen’s brain was in
-a condition of siege for months. It could not stand the strain. She
-was seized with paralysis and died. I blame Asenath for her death.”
-
-I did not say much in reply. My odd experience of a few minutes
-before puzzled me. Helen’s account of the girl threw a weird light
-upon what I felt bound, as a reasonable man, to consider merely
-curious phenomena, subjective in character and due to some
-unexplained physical cause. I determined to say a few decided words
-to Robert Glen about the culpability of allowing his delicate wife
-to contend with such an annoyance as Asenath, who, if not a
-sorceress, certainly was a fractious and troublesome servant.
-
-“It is strange that Robert does not remove her,” said I.
-
-Helen’s face flushed and was drawn by a momentary spasm. She looked
-at me in troubled silence, as if she could not decide to speak what
-she wished to tell me.
-
-“I am afraid for Robert,” she said at length, almost in a whisper;
-“there is something in that girl’s demeanor to him that it sickens
-me to think of--and which I dare not try to explain, even to myself.
-It seems impossible that she can dare to think that he”--she went on
-hurriedly, after a pause--“you see, he believes in no psychic powers
-and is not on his guard. He calls her unearthly pranks mere mischief
-that a few years’ discipline will take out of her. Robert intends
-her to marry Lucas.”
-
-She spoke the last sentence quite loudly, and, as the girl and her
-driver were passing by the window, they overheard. Lucas, a squat,
-stolid-looking mulatto, with a face like that of a satiated animal,
-chuckled and poked at Asenath with the gad.
-
-The girl stopped. She threw down her burden, flung back her head,
-and turned upon Helen a wild and vicious stare. Her face, streaming
-with perspiration, was full of threat. She gasped for breath from
-emotion or the heaviness of her toil. She raised one hand, wiped her
-brow with its open palm, and flung the drops of sweat in a shower at
-Helen.
-
-“May every drop curse you!” she said, between her labored breaths.
-
-Helen looked at her with quiet scorn. “Go on, Lucas,” she said,
-calmly.
-
-Asenath shook herself, like a chained animal. She ground her teeth
-and turned upon Lucas in fury, as if she would rend him. He did not
-quail, but raised his gad threateningly and pointed to the
-barrow-handles, and, after a momentary struggle with herself, the
-girl took them up and went on, panting under her toil.
-
-“She shall continue that until she drops,” said my sister.
-
-“But, Helen, that surely is cruel.”
-
-“Not more so than drawing the fangs of a snake. I have discovered
-that she is psychically powerless when physically exhausted. All the
-negroes on the place know this and are rejoicing now--they all feel
-more secure for knowing that she has been disciplined.”
-
-While she was speaking, I saw Robert Glen coming along the walk to
-the house. Helen saw him, too. Leaning out the window, she called to
-Lucas and bade him take his charge “to the old barn.” He hurriedly
-departed, driving the girl--who now seemed doubly unwilling to drag
-her load--literally like an ox, and very unsparing of the gad.
-
-Robert greeted me cordially; but it was evident to me that there was
-a cloud between his wife and him. His ruddy face assumed a stern
-expression when he looked at her, and his voice had a hard tone when
-he addressed her. Her manner to him had an appealing, almost
-fawning, air, which it distressed me to see.
-
-It was some days before I found a chance to speak to Robert on the
-subject of the girl. I had better have held my tongue, for he was
-nettled in an instant, shrugged his shoulders, and curled his lip.
-
-“You Northern people know nothing whatever about the management of
-slaves. Helen leads that girl the life of a toad under a harrow,
-because the other darkies say she ‘hoodoos’ them, and because my
-mother had some irrational ideas about demoniacal possession. I
-declare to you, Tom, that if I did not know Helen’s delicate
-condition and nervousness were much to blame, I should be ashamed of
-her treatment of Asenath, who is a good house-servant, and
-valuable.”
-
-“But she is an annoyance that Helen should not have to contend with
-now.”
-
-“How is she to be got rid of?” he demanded, impatiently. “We never
-sell any of the people on this estate, and she won’t take her
-freedom as a gift. I can’t kill her.”
-
-Then I dropped the subject. When I next saw Helen, she had been
-crying, and she begged me not to speak to Robert about the girl
-again.
-
-I saw no more of Asenath for some time, and learned that she had
-been put steadily to work at the loom, the day following my arrival.
-
-One morning, news came that the loom-house had been entered in the
-night, all the yarn carried off, the woven cloth cut to pieces, and
-the loom and wheels so shattered that new ones would be necessary.
-Even the walls of the building were half-destroyed.
-
-“This is some of Asenath’s work,” said Helen.
-
-Robert, who had been annoyed by the news, now seemed additionally
-so.
-
-“Pshaw, Helen!” he said sharply; “it would take the strength of
-several men to do some of this mischief.”
-
-“She has it at command. Lucas shall take her in hand again.”
-
-“No, we will have no more of that,” Robert said, sternly. “Now, hear
-me, Helen; I have told Lucas that if he obeys you in that respect
-again he shall be flogged within an inch of his life, and I mean
-it.”
-
-Helen’s face turned very white, her hands fell into her lap, and she
-sat as if stricken helpless and hopeless. I hastened away to avoid
-hearing more, comprehending now what the trouble in my sister’s life
-was, and with a presentiment of coming evil that would be greater.
-
-It was that very night that, having strolled into the shrubbery to
-smoke my cigar, I fell asleep upon a rustic bench there and awoke to
-find it was late at night, with the wind moaning as if a storm were
-brewing in the cloudy heavens.
-
-As I arose to go to the house, something--that was not
-visible--seemed to come from every quarter at once and smite me. I
-felt a sharp, electric thrill, which was followed by a sensation as
-if I had been flung from a height and raised up again, with some of
-my faculties benumbed by the fall. My hair stood up, but I felt no
-fear, only a passive wonder, mixed with expectation. Turning, I saw,
-by a transient gleam of moonlight, the girl Asenath, standing in the
-path near by, pointing at me with a long, slender rod. The ray
-passed and left a black Shadow there, which moved slowly away,
-beckoning to me. I followed.
-
-The Shadow led me out of the shrubbery and along the wide avenue
-between the two rows of huts occupied by the negroes, and ended at
-the mansion house. I had no will or thought but to follow it
-exactly. It stopped before one of the huts and bent itself nearly
-double. I, too, bent over, involuntarily, and every muscle of my
-body seemed to become tense. The perspiration started out of me, and
-my will was like a bar of steel ending in great fingers, which
-grasped something and pulled upon it with such force that my inner
-self was a-tremble with weakness when the tension relaxed, which it
-did at the opening of the cottage door and the coming out of a
-little lad--a mere child--who looked ghastly, as one of the dead
-walking. He placed himself beside me, we followed the shadowy woman
-to another house, dragged at the invisible cords of another human
-soul, and brought it out into the night. It was a woman, this time,
-in scantiest of night-robes.
-
-And so we went on, stopping at every door, and from every door some
-one came forth, except from that of Lucas. There, grasp as it would,
-the steel fingers clutched nothing, and the door remained shut.
-
-The woman Asenath muttered to herself, and all the crowd of
-followers muttered, too. With them, my own lips formed words, of
-which I did not then comprehend the meaning: “Soulless beast!” We
-went on beyond the quarters, stopped at the mansion, and dragged at
-something that resisted with all its strength, which was weaker than
-ours, for it yielded at last, and came slowly, slowly down the steps
-and stood among us. It was my sister Helen.
-
-Asenath laughed, and ghastly laughter broke from all, even from
-Helen herself.
-
-I had no feeling of compassion for her, nor of fear for her or
-myself, but was simply a force which another exerted. The wills of
-those who followed Asenath were but strands in the cable of her
-power, and their strength was in her hands for good or ill.
-
-We followed again--out of the plantation, through a forest of pines,
-over a bridge that spanned slow-crawling, black water, past a fallen
-church, surrounded by forgotten graves, to the top of a hill where
-there were stones laid in the form of a serpent--a great cleft
-stone, like open jaws, forming the head. There Asenath paused and
-cast down her rod. She stretched out her hands, and in a moment we
-were formed into a circle about the rod.
-
-And then once again those fingers of steel grasped
-something--something that all their strength seemed unable to move.
-Our breath came in gasps, our forms shook like the leaves of the
-aspen tree, and in the heart was a fear, too great to be measured,
-of failure. Long, long the effort lasted--lasted until the will
-seemed to discard its own puerile strength and to fling itself upon
-the bosom of impersonal force, seize the reservoir of the universal
-will, and turn its power in a mighty stream upon the burden of one
-desire--one unyielding demand that the door be opened. And with that
-borrowed force came the sense of unlimited strength. Faith was born.
-We stretched out our arms in gestures of which I can only remember
-that they were first those of invitation, then of welcome. Nature
-began to pulsate. There was a sound like the slow, regular beating
-of a heart, in the chambers of which we were inclosed. The inner
-life throbbed with it so fiercely that the blood seemed almost to
-leap from my body. All about us were the movements of awakening
-birds and insects; from afar came the lowing of kine, the crowing of
-cocks, and the crying of children, as if they were suddenly startled
-into fear.
-
-In the centre of the circle appeared a square of strange light. We
-looked upon it and beheld a place of which the darkness and the
-light of this world are but the envelopes. We saw there, afar off, a
-vast crystalline globe, from which extended, in all directions,
-millions of filaments of clear light. The globe scintillated as a
-diamond does, and its sparks floated away upon the endless filaments
-of light. Nearer to us, moving about, were beings not human, and not
-resembling each other further than that they were all gigantic and
-all possessed of some human attributes. Some were beautiful, some
-hideous; but upon every one was stamped--in strange characters that
-I somehow understood--the words “_I only am God_.” Upon some the
-writing was fantastic, as if put on in mockery. Upon others it shone
-with a clear and cruel radiance that pained the sight. Some bore it
-faded and dim, as if the pretension it set up had fallen like a leaf
-into the stream of the ages and been almost forgotten. A great awe
-fell upon us all, so great that all, except the woman Asenath and
-myself, fell down and seemed as if dead. The woman trembled and
-murmured to herself, and again my lips formed her words: “Is it
-worth while, when human desires are so poor, human life so short?”
-
-Through that door there floated not a voice, for the silence was
-only broken by a faint, soft hum, like very distant music, but an
-unspoken command that impressed itself upon the spirit.
-
-“_Speak!_”
-
-Still the woman hesitated. Suddenly her lips moved again, mine
-following them: “But only through this can _he_ be won.”
-
-“I would have the desire of my heart,” she said aloud.
-
-“_It is thine_,” was the silent answer; “_to him who knocks at this
-door shall it be opened, and what he asks for there shall he
-receive, whether for good or ill. It is the law._”
-
-“I would be fair, like those who enslave me. All that she has”--she
-pointed to my sister--“I would take from her and have for my own.”
-
-“_The power to obtain thy will is thine, whether thou be of the just
-or of the unjust. The spirit which commands shall be obeyed. It is
-the law._”
-
-“And is there a penalty to be paid?”
-
-“_Thy act is the seed from which its penalty shall grow._”
-
-The woman sighed.
-
-“What penalty?”
-
-“_Thou knowest the law._”
-
-Sighing again, bitterly, Asenath stretched out her hand. The square
-of light went out. Across the spot where it had been, drifted
-indistinct forms which passed into invisibility on either side.
-Under their feet ran a serpent of fire, which leaped at the woman.
-She grasped it, and it seemed to become the rod she had cast down.
-
-I remembered nothing more until I came slowly to myself, stretched
-upon the bench in the shrubbery, with the morning sun shining into
-my face. My limbs were stiff, my head ached, and my heart was heavy
-with a foreboding of evil. It was impossible for me to decide
-whether the experience of the night was a dream or a reality, but I
-was sorely troubled; I could not think of Asenath without a creeping
-of the flesh.
-
-On approaching the house, I saw Robert standing in the doorway. My
-first glimpse of him set me to trembling with fear of evil tidings,
-he looked so agitated and distressed. When he perceived me, he wrung
-his hands and burst into tears.
-
-“Oh, Tom!” he cried, “Helen is dying. She was taken with convulsions
-early this morning. She does not know me. The baby was born dead,
-and Helen can not live. I must lose her! Oh, God, I must lose her!”
-
-He ran through the hall and up the stairs, like a wild man. I
-followed, but the heaviness of the shock was so great that it was
-but slowly and with a feeling as if the floor was rising up to my
-face. Asenath was moving stealthily about the hall. I bade her
-begone. She looked at me like a startled cat, but did not go. A
-black girl, coming down the stairs, passed me, and I recognized her
-as the first of the women who had joined our ghastly crowd the night
-before. She gazed straight before her, with wide-open, horrified
-eyes, and her face had the same pinched look the hall mirror had
-shown me upon my own as I glanced into it involuntarily when passing
-it. At the top of the stairs, Belinda, Helen’s poor little maid,
-flung herself at my feet and clasped my knees.
-
-“Oh, Massa Tom,” she cried, “she am ’witched. Go an’ git d’ witch
-doctah t’--tak’--de spell off’n her. Nuffin’ll save her ef yo’ don’t
-do dat.”
-
-As I stopped to put the poor creature aside, old Mammy Clara, her
-face streaming with tears, came up to me.
-
-“Massa Tom,” she said, solemnly, “de good God hab tooken Miss Helen.
-She’s in heben wid her li’l’ baby.”
-
-The blow overcame me. It will be best to pass over that time. I shut
-myself into my room and bore my agony alone. I went once into the
-room where Helen lay and looked at her face. It was the face of one
-in peaceful rest, but it had aged twenty years in twelve hours. Her
-maids, directed by Mrs. Grayson, an old friend of the family, were
-ready to prepare her for the grave.
-
-“They think,” whispered Mrs. Grayson, “that she had walked in her
-sleep. Her feet are scratched and torn, as if she had been among
-briars barefoot, and the doctors say that her convulsions probably
-came on from the shock of awakening. She was found at daybreak,
-unconscious, in the hall, and the outer door was wide open.”
-
-I left the plantation a few days after the funeral, and for years
-neither saw nor heard directly from Robert Glen. I never could
-forgive his indifference to Helen’s peace of mind while she lived,
-nor get over a certain disgust with which his lack of self-control
-at the time of her death inspired me. I never liked him, and, after
-that sad time, I had less regard for him than ever. I never told him
-the story I have written. He would only have pronounced me mad, and
-I did not wish to obtain that reputation for the mere sake of
-warning him. Besides, I tried with all my mind to believe the
-experience of that night a dream, but I found that impossible and
-was always looking for a sequel to it. The sequel came in its
-appointed time.
-
-Years passed away. At the outbreak of the war, the Graysons came
-North. From them, I learned that Asenath had disappeared from the
-plantation long before, and was supposed to have drowned herself in
-the black creek and to haunt the plantation in the form of a
-black-and-white snake. Dr. Grayson blamed himself for her death.
-
-“Some of the Glen negroes,” he said, “told some of mine that the
-girl was turning white, and that, with the exception of her face and
-hands, her whole body had changed its color. Now I had heard of such
-cases, but never had seen one, and in spite of what Buffon and other
-naturalists say on the subject, felt doubtful of the possibility of
-such a thing taking place. I rode over to Glen’s one day to
-investigate the matter. Glen was not at home; but, presuming upon
-old friendship with him, I saw the girl and told her the object of
-my call. I wish you had seen her; she flew into an outrageous
-passion, called me vile names, said there was not a white spot on
-her person, and that if I touched her it should cost me dear. Of
-course, I paid no attention to her threats, and called that Lucas of
-Glen’s to help me turn up her sleeves. Her arms really were white,
-but before I could half-examine them, she broke away from us and
-tore out of the house. We followed, but lost sight of her in the
-shrubbery, and to this day she has never been seen again. The
-negroes say she drowned herself. Glen, when he returned, seemed to
-believe so. He took me to task in a most ungentlemanly manner for
-what had happened, and we have not been on speaking terms since. He
-has now gone abroad to stay until this little war squall blows over,
-I hear.”
-
-“I trust that he may--and longer,” I said. The doctor chuckled a
-little and changed the subject. In secret, I said to myself: “I
-don’t believe the girl is dead, and I do believe that Robert Glen
-knows where she is. The sequel will come.”
-
-In ’68, Robert returned home, bringing a wife with him. He wrote me
-a formal announcement of his marriage, to which I replied with equal
-formality.
-
-It was rumored that the new wife was rich in her own right; that she
-was of English parentage, but born and reared in Calcutta. Later, I
-heard that Robert’s old neighbors had not taken to her at all, and
-that she had an ungovernable temper, being unable to keep any
-servant under her roof, except a couple of East Indian women, whom
-she berated continually in their own tongue, but who could not speak
-English enough to impart any information about their mistress to her
-neighbors.
-
-The year after Robert’s marriage, I accepted an invitation to spend
-a few days with the Graysons. Feeling that I owed Robert the
-courtesy of a call, I rode over to the plantation, not so much to
-discharge a social duty as to see the new Mrs. Glen, about whom I
-noticed, on the part of the Graysons, a marked reluctance to speak.
-They edged away from the subject, when I brought it up, with nervous
-looks at each other.
-
-Leaving my horse at the outer gate, I walked along the wide avenue
-nearly to the house. There was a spectral stillness upon the place.
-Sadness exhaled from everything, to be drawn in with every breath.
-The old servants were all gone. I had met the once sleek and stolid
-Lucas, now rheumatic and ragged, begging in the village. Belinda was
-in the county asylum, and the others were scattered or dead. The
-scent of the lilacs was gone from the air--the very bushes were
-rooted up, and lay, sear and dead, by little heaps of earth. A
-triangle of cloud in the sky cast upon the earth a triangle of
-shadow, in the midst of which Robert Glen’s home lay as if it were
-entranced. No sign of happy life met me; but, as I turned aside to
-look at a certain bench in the shrubbery, a black-and-white snake
-ran over my foot.
-
-I went no further. A woman was seated upon the bench--a fair woman,
-with hair like dull copper reflecting sullen fire, with a face and
-form perfect as those of the goddesses of old, a face which
-betokened an indomitable soul which knew the secret of the power
-wielded by the gods. She was bending over her clasped hands, her
-face was turned aside in an attitude of eager waiting, and wore a
-smile that transfigured it. Slowly approaching her, walking as a man
-walks in his sleep, came Robert Glen. He threw himself at her feet
-and laid his head upon her knee. She bent to him with a little
-rapturous caress, and both faces were as happy as those of the
-people in Paradise.
-
-I turned and went away from the place, and entered its precincts no
-more. From that hour, I was self-devoted to one purpose--to seek the
-knowledge that should open the door to her degradation and
-destruction. In the midst of her success, and in the height of her
-pride, she should turn black as she was in the day when Lucas drove
-her. I swore it. So should my friend and my sister, whom she robbed
-and slew, be avenged.
-
-
-
-
-OLD “HARD LUCK”
-
-By E. Munson
-
-
-Every one admitted he had a good heart in him. Even his bitterest
-enemy, Kid Alderson, was willing to make that concession, but
-qualified it by adding that he “was so blamed unlucky and peculiar,
-a body never knowed when he _was_ in to clear.”
-
-This singularity extended to his name. “H-o-s-s-e-l-k-u-s, accent on
-the _sel_,” he was wont to explain, with something like a shade of
-weariness, when a new operator faltered on his long patronymic.
-
-Eben J. Hosselkus was engineer of Engine Seventeen-Forty-Three.
-
-With the meagre data available, it is difficult to determine whether
-the name Hosselkus belongs to the Anglo-Saxon, Indo-European, or
-Teutonic family; but no such uncertainty attached to the origin of
-its unfortunate bearer. He was an unmistakable Yankee; rather below
-the medium height, lean and wiry; his mild, light-blue eyes were
-overshadowed by bushy and frowning eyebrows, and his grizzled
-mustache bristled with a singular ferocity, which the weakness of
-mouth and chin immediately belied. The whole man was decidedly
-contradictory. When first addressed, his manner was brusque and his
-voice gruff; but, after a few terrible expletives, his tone would
-soften and his most positive assertions invariably ended with an
-appeal for confirmation. “Now ain’t it so, for a fact? Now wouldn’t
-you say so, ’f you’uz me?” he would ask, while his wistful eyes
-wandered from face to face in search of support or sympathy,
-perhaps.
-
-He was the oldest engineer on the division, and the most
-unfortunate. Two decades of brakemen and conductors had twisted and
-distorted his luckless surname in every conceivable way; but to all
-appellations, from “Old Hoss” to “Hustle-Cuss,” he ever accorded the
-same ready response.
-
-Of late years he had been known simply as “Hard Luck.” When a
-train-crew would reach the end of the division, wan and famished
-from a protracted sojourn at some desert-siding, the first inquiry
-of their sympathetic brethren would be: “Who was pullin’ you?” “Old
-Hard Luck, of course,” was the seldom varied reply.
-
-Old Hosselkus had probably suffered more “moving accidents by flood
-and field” than any other man ever lived through. And yet he was a
-thoroughly competent engineer. He was an earnest student of
-mechanical engineering, and could explain the mysteries of “link
-motion,” the principles of the “injector,” and the working of the
-Westinghouse automatic air-brake in a singularly lucid manner.
-Nothing pleased him better than to enlighten a green fireman upon
-some knotty point, and the walls of the roundhouse and bunkhouse are
-still covered with his elaborate chalk and pencil diagrams of the
-different parts of the locomotive.
-
-As far back as he could remember, it had been the dream of
-Hosselkus’s life to be a regular passenger-engineer--in railroad
-parlance, to “pull varnished cars.” This was the goal upon the
-attainment of which the best efforts of his life had been
-concentrated, and still, after twenty years’ service, he seemed as
-far as ever from success. Many times he had almost achieved it, but
-always something had happened to prevent, some unaccountable and
-unavoidable piece of ill-luck. Finally, his name became so
-synonymous with disaster that the “Company” hesitated to intrust the
-valuable equipment of an express-train and the lives of the
-traveling public to him. Thus, as the years went by, old Hard Luck
-had become accustomed to crawling out from under the disgruntled
-engine of a side-tracked worktrain or way-freight to acknowledge the
-patronizing wave of the hand, as some former fireman of his whizzed
-by with a passenger-train or an “officers’ special.” Despair,
-however, had no place in his heart, and he still reveled in the
-fancied joys of pulling the fast express, and dreamed of that happy
-time when, to the customary inquiry as to the time of his departure,
-he would be able to answer: “I go out on Number Three.”
-
-There is a great difference in engineers; some can step off the
-foot-board at the end of a long run looking as fresh and clean as at
-the start, while, to judge from the appearance of others, one would
-imagine they had made the journey in the ash-pan. Hosselkus belonged
-to the latter class. It would have required some more powerful
-solvent than simple soap and water to have removed the soot and
-grime that had gradually accumulated in the wrinkles and hollows of
-his countenance during the years of arduous service. There was some
-excuse for him, however, seeing that so much of his life had been
-spent upon superannuated “ten-wheelers,” which, as every one knows,
-are awkward machines to oil, on account of their wheels being so low
-and close together. Then, too, he had so many accidents. He scarcely
-ever made a round trip without “slipping an eccentric,” “bursting a
-flue,” or “burning out his grates,” not to mention more serious
-mishaps, such as derailments, head and hind-end collisions, or
-running into slides and wash-outs. Much practice had made him almost
-perfect in “taking down a side,” or disconnecting a locomotive,
-while some of his exploits in the fire-box, plugging flues, rivaled
-the exhibition given by the Hebrew children in that seven times
-heated furnace of Holy Writ.
-
-But while his extensive experience upon the road had developed
-habits of self-reliance and a certain readiness in emergencies, it
-was not calculated to impart that gloss or polish which enables one
-to shine in society. Hard Luck’s only appearance within the charmed
-circle had been when he acted as pall-bearer at the funeral of a
-division superintendent, and upon that occasion he had scandalized
-his colleagues by appearing without the conventional white gloves,
-and a hurried and embarrassed search of his pockets only brought to
-light a bunch of “waste” and a “soft hammer,” articles which, though
-almost indispensable on a locomotive, are not essential to the
-success of a well-ordered interment.
-
-Gamblers say that if one is but possessed of sufficient capital, the
-most persistent run of ill-luck may eventually be broken, and so it
-proved in Hosselkus’s case.
-
-An “officers’ special,” carrying the leading magnates of the road
-upon a tour of inspection, was expected, and Engine
-Seven-Seventy-Seven, the fastest locomotive on the division, and
-Bill Pearson, an engineer with a record, had been held in readiness
-for some time to take them out.
-
-The engine, with a full tank of the best coal, had already been run
-out of the roundhouse, and the train-dispatcher had the freights
-safely side-tracked, and satisfactory “meets” with the
-passenger-trains about figured out, when he was interrupted in his
-study of the train-sheet by a nervous ring at the telephone. The
-dispatcher answered it himself, and the foreman of the roundhouse
-announced that Pearson was sick, and unable to take the special out.
-
-“That’s bad,” mused the dispatcher, but added, a moment later:
-“Well, send the next best man, and get a move on; they’ll be here in
-ten minutes.”
-
-“They ain’t none,” replied the roundhouse.
-
-“No other engineer?” shouted the dispatcher.
-
-“Well, there’s only Perkins on the yard-engine and Hard Luck just in
-on Scott’s work-train--might double him out again--that’s all.”
-
-The dispatcher rushed into the adjoining room to consult the
-superintendent.
-
-It was in the midst of the busiest season, and every available
-engineer was out upon the road.
-
-“Hard Luck? nonsense!” said the superintendent when he was informed
-of the situation. “Tell Pearson he must take the special out--this
-is a nice time for him to get sick!”
-
-The roundhouse was notified, and replied that Pearson was “foamin’
-awful--his wife’s got him jacked up and two doctors workin’ on him,”
-yelled the foreman.
-
-“This is terrible! _terrible!_” groaned the superintendent. “Perkins
-is only a boy, we can’t put him on, and Hosselkus will never get
-over the division without something happening--never in the world!”
-and the perspiration started upon his forehead. The whistle of the
-special aroused him to the necessity of immediate action.
-
-“Tell them to put Hosselkus on, and get him out as quick as
-possible--we are in the hands of Providence anyway, I suppose,” he
-added to himself.
-
-All was hurry and excitement when the special pulled in. The engine
-that brought it in was cut off and hurried out of the way, while the
-huge, well-groomed “Three-Sevens” backed slowly down in charge of
-Hosselkus, whose heart swelled chokingly as the brazen clangor of
-her bell pealed out.
-
-But the beginning was ominous. The engine was unfamiliar to him and
-worked more stiffly than he had expected, so that when he backed
-down to be coupled on, he struck the train with a momentum that
-jarred its occupants uncomfortably.
-
-“Lord! _Lord!_” moaned the superintendent as he wiped his clammy
-brow and sought to divert the directors’ attention from the mishap
-by suggesting some needed improvements in the “Company’s” water
-supply.
-
-Presently he excused himself and went ahead to the engine to
-interview Hard Luck. He found him with an oil-can in one hand and a
-bunch of waste in the other, engaged in the important duty of
-“oiling ’round.”
-
-Hosselkus had had no time to change his greasy jumper and overalls
-for cleaner ones; his hasty wash had merely imparted a smeary look
-to his countenance, and the badge on his cap was upside down, but
-his eyes sparkled beneath their shaggy brows, his mustache bristled
-savagely, and the whole man was nervously alert as, with a squirt of
-oil here, a dab of the waste there, and feeling carefully each key
-and bearing to detect any signs of heating, he worked his way around
-the mighty racer. He was just finishing his round when the
-superintendent came up.
-
-“Now, Hosselkus,” said the latter, appealingly, “_do_ be careful and
-try and get us over the division in some kind of shape--make time,
-and, for heaven’s sake, don’t break down on the road. If you make a
-first-class run, I’ll see what we can do about getting a passenger
-run for you.”
-
-Hosselkus put away his tallow-pot, wiped his hands on the bunch of
-waste, which he then carefully placed in his pocket to serve as a
-handkerchief, and at length spoke: “Colonel,” he said, “don’t you
-lose no sleep over this excursion--we’ll git there in the biggest
-kind of shape--this mill has got it in her, an’ if I can’t coax a
-move out of her, I’ll run a stationary the rest of my life. Now,
-these kid-engineers of yours, they ain’t up in mechanics like they’d
-oughter be--not but what they’re good boys--mind you, I’m not sayin’
-a word agin ’em--but they waste her stren’th--they don’t really
-savvy the theory. Now----”
-
-“Yes, yes,” hurriedly interrupted the superintendent; “I know, but
-we must be getting out of here, and don’t forget that passenger
-run--it’s manslaughter, if not murder in the first degree,” he said
-to himself, as he hastened back; “but if we escape with our lives,
-he shall have the run.”
-
-The conductor waved his hand, Hosselkus opened the throttle slightly
-and the steam shrilled through the cylinder-cocks as the special
-moved down the yard. Slowly he threaded the network of tracks,
-cut-offs, and blind switches, and then more rapidly by the long
-siding opposite the row of cottages, where the families of the
-conductors and engineers lived. And instinctively he felt the eyes
-of the women upon him, and that they were saying: “Well, if there
-ain’t that crazy fool on Pearson’s Three-Sevens, with a passenger
-special! Wouldn’t that kill you?” for women are jealous
-divinities--they would not that man should have any other gods or
-goddesses before them, and, as Hosselkus worshiped only a
-locomotive, a thing of steel and iron, they made of him a by-word
-and a reproach. But at that moment, Hard Luck cared but little for
-their disdain; he only thought of his triumph, and the discordant
-clanging of the bell of the Three-Sevens sounded in his ears as a
-pæan of victory. “At last--at last,” seemed to say its brazen
-tongue.
-
-The last switch was passed, and Hosselkus, forgetting the lightness
-of his train, opened the throttle so suddenly that the engine fairly
-leaped forward, while passengers’ necks received a violent wrench.
-
-“This engineer of yours, colonel,” said the general superintendent,
-spitting out the end of a cigar he had involuntarily swallowed, “is
-just off a pile-driver, is he not?”
-
-The colonel laughed a joyless laugh. “The fact is,” he replied, “the
-regular man was taken sick at the last moment, and we had no one but
-this fellow to put on. He is an old engineer, but not used to the
-engine. I think he will improve when he gets the hang of it.”
-
-“I hope so--I hope so,” said the general, fervently, as he lit a
-fresh cigar; “there is evidently room for improvement.”
-
-But presently even the anxious superintendent was forced to admit
-they were moving. Telegraph-poles, that had appeared and disappeared
-with majestic deliberation, began to flit by the windows with a
-frequency and abruptness very unusual in those stately objects;
-quicker and less rhythmic came the click of the wheels as each rail
-was passed, and the leaps of the engine at each revolution of the
-driving-wheels were merged into a continuous, convulsive shudder.
-The passengers no longer experienced the sensation of being drawn
-along, but felt as though projected through space, and the more
-timid clung to their seats to avoid soaring off through the roof.
-Trainmen who could traverse undisturbed the reeling roofs of a fast
-freight, made their way through the swaying cars with difficulty.
-
-Old Hard Luck was evidently “getting there,” and the superintendent
-prayed silently that he might maintain the speed to the end.
-
-At the first stop he went forward to congratulate the engineer. The
-fireman was under the engine “hoeing out,” and Hosselkus, sooty but
-triumphant, was “oiling ’round.”
-
-“How’d’s that suit you, colonel?” he cried, as his superior
-approached; “the old girl’s a-crawlin’, ain’t she?”
-
-“You’re doing fine, Hosselkus--fine, but keep it up--pound her on
-the back, for the porter tells me the wine is getting low and
-they’re liable to see something to beef about. Keep ’em a-rollin’,
-and the passenger run is yours.” The colonel had risen from the
-ranks, and at times, unconsciously, lapsed into the old dialect.
-
-“Don’t you worry none, we’ll git there. Gimme this mill, colonel,
-an’ none of the other boys on the division ’ud ever get a smell of
-my smoke. An’ she does it so easy, reminds of your maw’s old
-rocker--just handle her right, don’t crowd her, that’s the main
-point. Now my theory’s like this, we’ll say the cylinder receives so
-much----”
-
-But the colonel had fled. Hard Luck carried his theory with him, for
-he never succeeded in obtaining a listener to whom he could expound
-it.
-
-No accident occurred, however; the speed was maintained, and the
-special reached Oleson’s Siding so far in advance of the
-train-dispatcher’s calculations that quite a wait was necessary
-while Number Three, the east-bound express, toiled up the grade.
-
-Hosselkus lit the headlight, for the sun was impaled upon one of the
-peaks of the distant Sierras, whose eastern slopes were already
-purpling with shades of evening.
-
-It was the last stop. Below him wound the tortuous Goose-Neck Grade,
-with the division terminus at its foot. The run was nearly ended.
-
-Having finished oiling, Hosselkus leaned against the cylinder-head
-and gazed abstractedly down the track. A brakeman was seated on the
-head-block of the switch, throwing stones at an adjacent
-telegraph-pole, and moodily speculating upon the probabilities of
-“getting in” in time for supper, while an occasional breath of wind
-from the valley brought with it, from far down the grade, the
-puffing of the engines on Number Three.
-
-He had succeeded. The record would be broken beyond a doubt; but as
-the cool breeze of sunset blew in his face, he suddenly became aware
-of the fact that he was tired, and he remembered then that he had
-been on the road for over forty-eight hours.
-
-The smell of heated tallow struck him, for the first time, as being
-a singularly unappetizing odor, and he looked over the huge machine
-with something akin to dissatisfaction in the expression of his
-face. He sighed, and the brakeman asked if she was coming--meaning
-the train.
-
-“No,” replied Hard Luck; “she ain’t showed up ’round the bend
-yet--I’uz just thinkin’.”
-
-“Well, here she’s a-comin’.”
-
-Hosselkus clambered to his seat, and as soon as the express-train
-had cleared the switch it was opened by the brakeman, and the
-special was once more under way.
-
-Leaning uncomfortably now to this side, now to that, and with angry
-grinding of flange on rail, it swept around the curves with
-ever-increasing speed. A crashing roar, a flare of yellow sunset
-light reflected from rocky walls, told of a cutting safely passed,
-while bridge, and culvert, and trestle bellowed again as the engine
-cleared them at a bound.
-
-The Three-Sevens devoured the way. Again and again Hosselkus proved
-the correctness of his theory by the terrific bursts of speed with
-which the mighty engine responded to his every impulse; but his
-nerves were no longer responsive to the exultant thrill of triumph.
-A sickening foreboding griped his heart; yet, whenever he would have
-shut off steam and slackened speed, an unconquerable impulse
-restrained him; for, in the exhaust of the engine and the roar of
-wheels, he fancied he heard one word repeated over and over again,
-with maddening persistency: “Hurry! hurry! hurry! hurry!” And the
-fireman, as he shoveled in coal and struggled to maintain his
-difficult footing, noted with wonder, not unmixed with uneasiness,
-that Hosselkus was working steam on grades where it was usual to
-“let them down” under the restraining pressure of the air-brakes.
-
-The lagging summer twilight gradually deepened until the illuminated
-faces of clock and steam-gauge stood out with pallid distinctness in
-the gloom of the cab. Lights in lonely section-houses shot past, and
-occasionally a great flare of red rushed upward from the momentarily
-opened door of the fire-box. The dazzling light of the furnace
-revealed old Hard Luck crouching forward on his seat, one hand on
-the throttle, the other grasping the reversing lever. His features
-were set and sharpened, and so pale that through its grimy enameling
-his face looked positively blue. An occasional swift, comprehensive
-glance took in clock, steam-gauge, and water-glass, and then his
-eyes were again fixed upon the arrowy torrent of ties that streamed
-into the glare of the headlight and disappeared beneath the pilot
-with unbroken, dizzying swiftness. At last a white post flitted by
-and Hosselkus relaxed. He glanced at the clock, and the next moment
-a long, wailing blast of the whistle warned the yardmen at the
-division’s end.
-
-The record was broken; the passenger run was his at last; old Hard
-Luck had actually got over the division without a mishap and in time
-never before equaled; but instead of exulting over it, as he shut
-off steam, he found himself marveling how faint and far away the
-whistle had sounded; had he not felt the vibration of the escaping
-steam, he would hardly have believed it was the Three-Seven’s
-stentorian voice. Undoubtedly there was something wrong; he would
-have to fix it the first thing in the morning. The engine lurched
-over the switches, and Hosselkus cursed the sudden fog that had
-dimmed the switch-lamps so he could hardly tell red from white, but
-at length he pulled up before the Railway Hotel--fortune favored him
-to the last, he made a splendid stop.
-
-With a great sigh of relief he leaned back on his seat, while the
-eating-house gong banged and thundered a hospitable welcome to the
-belated guests.
-
-“You made a magnificent run, Hosselkus. I’ll fix it with the
-master-mechanic--you go out on Number Three to-morrow,” called out
-the superintendent, as he hurried by.
-
-Presently a yardman uncoupled the engine and waved his lantern. “All
-right!” called out the fireman, who was standing in the gangway.
-
-The engineer made no move.
-
-“What’s the matter?” inquired the switchman, climbing into the cab;
-“Why in----” The light of his lantern fell upon the engineer’s face;
-he paused suddenly, for it was white beneath the grime.
-
-Hard Luck was taken from the engine, laid upon a bench, and a
-physician hastily summoned. Engineers, with smoky torches, and
-trainmen, with lanterns, crowded around with bated breath, while the
-doctor listened long and attentively for a sound of life, but only
-the air-pump on the Three-Sevens sighed softly, as the light rings
-of smoke from her stack floated up, and up, and up in the quiet air,
-where still a tinge of twilight lingered.
-
-“Dead!” said the doctor, and the tension was relaxed.
-
-Then they all praised their late comrade, and all agreed that the
-old fellow had a good heart in him, anyway--that is, all but the
-doctor, who, as he rose and carefully wiped his spectacles, muttered
-something about “Organic weakness--told him so.”
-
-The next day, as the superintendent had promised, Hard Luck went out
-on Number Three--but he went in a box, lashed to the platform of the
-baggage-car.
-
-
-
-
-THE DOTTED TRAIL
-
-By W. H. Irwin
-
-
-The first time that Dudley Latimer kissed Belle Sharp, the
-half-Spanish “help” at the P. L. Ranch, he was not in earnest; he
-would have been the last to say that there was any serious intention
-in it. He did it partly in a spirit of pure bravado, and partly
-because the morning was as warm and white as new milk, and she,
-smiling back over her shoulder as she emptied her pails, looked a
-part of it. Equally innocent of any harmful intent, she let him
-after a formal struggle. He was tall and clean, and as handsome as a
-young Englishman can be when he is in perfect condition, and has a
-fine, red coat of tan. Then he bade her good-by. He had been at the
-ranch a week, ranging the hills in a vain hunt for antelope, already
-then, in the early eighties, becoming scarce. His canvas-covered
-wagon and his “side partner,” the Hon. Justin Weymouth, waited by
-the gate.
-
-The Hon. Justin was taking a parting nip with the “Old Man,” and did
-not see the diversion, and none of the four noticed that Emilio
-Gonolez, horse trainer and man-of-all-work, was coming in through
-the kitchen yard carrying an antelope so freshly killed that its
-throat was not yet cut. Emilio stood and watched. He saw the
-struggle, heard the girl cry “The gall of you!” saw her color turn
-as she lifted her face with unwilling willingness, saw her throw at
-young Latimer, walking away, a look of admiration that he took for
-something else. Then Emilio slipped round the barn with his quarry,
-and came upon the wagon in front. Dudley was smiling across the
-fence at Belle, who had found business in the front yard. For half a
-minute, Emilio looked what he felt; then smiled as he slipped into
-view, and said: “I make-a present you thees antelope. He ees fresh.
-Myself, I shoot heem. He come ver’ close.”
-
-“Careful how you tie it, Emmy,” said the Old Man. “Dump it in for
-’em. Well, boys, stacking in the north field. Good-by, and luck to
-you.”
-
-While Dudley chatted across the fence with Belle, Emilio was
-explaining to the Hon. Justin how an antelope should be tied and
-hung for a journey. “Head down so he bleed--the dust bother ver’
-leetle--oh, yes, a lee-tle cut on the throat so he bleed slow. That
-ees bes’. I cut heem.” A slow, red stream trickled over snowy throat
-and gray jaws. The wagon drove on. Down the road behind it trailed
-an irregular line of wet dots, the centres for an army of noisy
-flies.
-
-“Awfully jolly girl,” said Dudley, as they bowled easily along
-through the red dust. The Hon. Justin puffed at his pipe, and made
-no answer. He might have said that he hastened their going just
-because his companion was very young and the girl very pretty. A
-flock of sage-hens started from the olive-green brush to one side.
-Justin pulled up, took out his shotgun and followed, Dudley throwing
-stones to make them rise. A right and left shot brought down a
-brace. They gathered up the birds, and turned to the wagon, and as
-they did so, the elder man looked back. Just level with the ranch
-house, two miles behind, a cloud of red dust veiled the road and
-lapped far over its edge. Through the thin atmosphere came a muffled
-rumble, and then a few dots, followed at an interval by another,
-heaved out of the mass.
-
-“Cattle!” said Dudley. “That’s jolly. I always wanted to see one of
-those big droves on the foot. Shall we wait for them to pass?”
-
-“I think not,” said the Hon. Justin. “Not until we get to the next
-ranch. They say that those wild range cattle do singular things.”
-But still they stood and watched, fascinated by the shimmering,
-shifting, red cloud, the distant rumble, the glint of a blazing sun
-on the sabred heads of a thousand Texas long-horns.
-
-Of a sudden the dust-cloud, which had spilled over the road only to
-the right, away from the ranch fence, widened out, shifted to the
-left. They had passed the fence corner, and were on open range. No
-dust arose on that wing; it was hard prairie, tied close by
-sagebrush. And inexperienced as were their eyes, the two Englishmen
-could see some commotion running through the mass; the units
-composing it were spreading hither and thither; two compound dots,
-mounted men, were swinging wide about them. The rumble grew louder,
-lulled, rose again, and above the noise came the sound of a dozen
-shots, fired in quick succession. Away back in his consciousness,
-Dudley began to regret that they had chosen, in their young British
-insolence, to travel without a guide, who might explain to them the
-strange happenings of this incomprehensible country.
-
-Justin started at the sound of a frightened snort in his ear. He
-turned to see his horses quivering in every nerve. Almost before he
-could catch its bridle, the near one was plunging and pitching.
-
-“Get the reins!” yelled Justin; “we’d best be out of here.”
-
-The team broke into a dead run. Looking back, Justin saw the cloud
-ominously, frightfully near. A struggling advance-guard of
-long-horns heaved out before, and ahead of them were two men, riding
-like demons, yet ever beating backward as they rode. Then the red
-veil fell, and there was nothing but a dust-cloud, rolling on nearer
-and nearer.
-
-                 *       *       *       *       *
-
-When the Englishmen were gone, Belle looked after their retreating
-wagon, and sighed. She was just realizing, now that the week was
-past and these clean, courteous, easy-moving beings of another world
-were gone, that she had been dreaming dreams. Emilio looked also,
-sometimes after the wagon, sometimes after the girl. When he bent
-his gaze on Belle he was serious enough, but when his eye ran down
-the track of bloody dots, he drew his lips back from his white
-teeth, and smiled. He was holding the reins of his roan bronco; he
-dropped them to lean over the fence, and looked up the road, away
-from the wagon.
-
-“What is it that you see up there?” she asked, carelessly, in
-Spanish.
-
-“Something that your white-haired friend will be glad to see,” he
-answered. She looked, saw the dust-cloud coming, saw the little,
-caking pool of blood, and went white in a moment.
-
-“That,” she cried, “that is what your antelope meant! You knew that
-cattle were coming this way to-day.”
-
-“A thousand head passing up to the White River country. And wild,
-very wild.”
-
-“They will trample them; kill them!”
-
-“You thought about that when you kissed him,” he sneered; “the blood
-goes straight, and the wind is right. He will have a run for
-it--your lover.”
-
-Then the roar of padding feet was louder, and the herd was coming.
-They were fifty yards away--and a great, white steer, horned in
-splendor, lowered his muzzle, and bellowed, and tore the earth, and
-shot out in advance. Another followed, and still another, each
-breaking into that rocking run, each one stretching out his nostrils
-to taste the polluted air. They plunged together over the little
-pool of blood; they rolled over and over, horns tossing, feet
-stamping, throats acclaim. The leaders crowded against the corral
-until its foot-wide posts bent and cracked. A deafening roar, the
-bellow of a thousand mad cattle, and then nothing but a tangled
-riot, speeding on down the scent, a thousand great, horned hounds
-after their quarry.
-
-It was the blood stampede that makes half-wild cattle wholly demons.
-A clap of lightning, a sudden shot, even the appearance of a
-dismounted man, will send the mercurial herd rushing in panic fear;
-but let them once scent blood, and all hell is loosed in them. No
-pack of wolves follows with the relentless fury of range cattle on
-the trail of blood. Huddled by the barn, still showing his teeth,
-but half in fright, at the box of demons that he had opened, the man
-who laid the trail knew all this. And the girl knew it best of all.
-
-She was between him and his horse as she turned on him.
-
-“You did this--you murderer!”
-
-“I will go,” he said; “I will cut it loose--it will stop the
-cattle.”
-
-“Yes--_you_! I will go myself.” He jumped at her as she sprang into
-his saddle. She saw the movement. His lariat hung at the
-saddle-horn. She brought it down on his wrist. The same movement
-started the high-strung little roan, already a-quiver with fear. His
-heels clattered against the bars; Belle, astride like a man, her
-calico skirts tucked about her hips, was riding after the red cloud,
-swinging wide into the sage-brush to pass them.
-
-The roan had a dash of the thoroughbred. He was the swiftest thing
-coursing that day in the four-cornered race between cattle, cowboys,
-hunted team, and woman, yet he had two hundred yards the worst of
-his start. But, like a thoroughbred, he caught the bit and shook out
-his dapple mane, and laid his belly to the earth as he skimmed. Over
-sage-brush, over treacherous ant-hills, tangling gopher-holes he
-sped, the reins loose, for he knew his work. Two cowboys, caught in
-the press, fighting, swearing, striking brutally at heads and horns
-as they were borne on, called to her in warning; but the roan
-rounded the pack, shook himself free, and galloped on.
-
-And then Belle saw what she had feared. Knowing their peril, but
-ignorant of the cause, the two Englishmen were hurrying on ahead,
-with the carcass still bumping from the tail-board. The cattle in
-the road, where the running was freer, had gained upon those on the
-flanks. They were going in a wedge, with the speed of an express
-train. The cows, fleeter and fiercer than the males, were leading
-on. Half a dozen cowboys skirmished before, shooting and lashing out
-desperately, trying to back-fire by a counter-panic, taking chances
-of life with every gopher-hole. But there was no checking that mass;
-when a steer flinched before the heavy whip, he was pushed on from
-behind. And ever they bellowed, with a note of tigers in their
-voices.
-
-A moment Belle ran before the herd; then calling to the roan, who
-understood as only a cow-horse can understand, she cut an oblique
-course across the herd’s face. She gained the road; the herd was
-behind her, and the roan, gathering his nerve for a final spurt,
-made for the wagon. She shouted, but the roar behind drowned her
-voice, and so she reached for the holster, where Emilio kept his
-knife. As she whipped it out and drew even, reaching for the
-carcass, the wagon slackened and stopped. Her own horse swerved in
-his course, and shot past before she could check him.
-
-The off-horse, what with fear and exhaustion, had stumbled and
-fallen dead. And the wedge was coming on, now but a quarter of a
-mile away.
-
-Deadly as was their fear, the two Englishmen, who had jumped to the
-ground, stood and stared to see her turn in beside the standing
-horse and, without any ceremony, cut his traces and reins. He reared
-and plunged; Justin caught his bridle.
-
-“Mount quick!” she shouted. And before he could grasp the situation
-she had pushed Dudley to her roan, almost thrown him into the
-saddle, and mounted behind.
-
-As the snorting horses bounded away, the roar was almost on their
-flanks. It rose to its climax in a great, dull crash. Looking back,
-the girl saw that they were no longer followed. The dust-cloud was a
-whirlpool that rolled and tumbled over the spot where the wagon had
-been. For only a minute; the cowboys closed in, and the panic was
-over. Slowly the men beat back the sullen, sated demons. And when
-the press split there was no wagon at all--only broken wheels and
-scattered bits of woodwork, and flattened belongings and
-blood--blood and gleaming gray hairs trampled into everything.
-
-The two men dismounted and turned to the girl. Then was she first
-aware of her skirts tucked about her hips, and of the manner in
-which she had ridden. Her color rose, and she jumped down. She
-turned redder a moment later when Dudley Latimer took her in his
-arms and, for the second time that morning, kissed her.
-
-And that time he kissed her in deadly earnest.
-
-
-
-
-THE WHITE GRAVE
-
-By C. Alfred
-
-
-Harrison and his wife were evidently tenderfeet. Worse than that,
-they had never been outside the City of New York before; and why an
-inexperienced, city-bred young man like Harrison should have
-attempted to move a year’s outfit, which weighs a ton, over the
-Chilkoot Pass, and tempt Fate in the bleakness of the Yukon country,
-no one knew.
-
-The reason really was Harrison’s wife. Tired of a living salary in
-the city, she was ready, when news of the Klondike gold-fields
-reached the world in 1897, to catch the gold fever; caught it, and
-argued Harrison into resigning his clerkship in an insurance
-company, and into taking her with him to Alaska. They were very much
-in love, and could not be separated. So they invested their savings
-in sacks of flour, and blankets, and tins of coffee, and in tickets
-to Dyea.
-
-They landed there in December. This, of course, was an idiotic time
-to arrive, but they didn’t know, and there were lots of other idiots
-just then. When Harrison grasped the fact that he must, himself,
-pull all his pile of provisions over the desolate mountain range
-that ran upward in front of him, his heart failed him; as the
-Yukoners say, he got cold feet. But his wife cheered him. Mrs.
-Harrison was young, and, therefore, hopeful. Moreover, she was a
-pretty little woman, with a great mass of flaxen hair, and on her
-account many a rough packer on the trail gave Harrison a lift with
-his load in the steeper places.
-
-They struggled on together through storms and snowdrifts. Little by
-little the outfit neared the summit that had lain eighteen miles
-from them when first they landed. Every morning Harrison would load
-some two hundred and fifty pounds on the sled, pull it up the trail
-seven miles or so, and come back in the afternoon. And the girl, for
-she was nothing more, would cook their little meals on the
-sheet-iron stove, and dry Harrison’s moccasins and coddle him, and
-tell him how like it all was to a picnic, and how she enjoyed the
-life. Which was not true.
-
-And so they passed through Canyon City, beyond which there is no
-God, the packers say, and up to Sheep Camp, which is far up in the
-mountains on the timber line, and beyond which there lies a frozen
-desolation that supports no living thing--not even the scrubby
-spruce that can exist on the bare rock in lower altitudes. Here they
-disappeared from view, because the horses do not go past Sheep Camp,
-the trail being too rough; and the packers, not seeing them, could
-bring no word.
-
-Now, there were hotels of a fashion in Dyea at this time, but the
-entire downstairs part was usually made into one room, and used as a
-bar, dance-hall, and gambling house. So when Harrison came back down
-the trail two weeks later at three o’clock in the morning, he had to
-elbow his way up to the bar in the Comique to ask for a room. The
-first bartender looked at him inquiringly, for he had seen the
-Harrisons on the trail, and the teamsters had said they must be over
-the summit by now. His curiosity got the better of him.
-
-“Are you the party that went up with a little blonde lady three
-weeks ago?” he asked.
-
-“I may be,” said Harrison.
-
-“She seemed kind of light for this country,” pursued the bartender.
-“Hope she’s standing it all right. Did she come down with you?”
-
-“I brought her with me,” said Harrison.
-
-“Isn’t she coming in? She doesn’t have to pass through the saloon
-here if she don’t like. She can----”
-
-Harrison’s hand went to his forehead. “She’s dead,” he said.
-
-A teamster came in the side door and spoke to him, and he followed
-the man out. So did two of the dance-hall girls and the first
-bartender. Outside in one of the big freighting sleds lay Mrs.
-Harrison. Her flaxen hair waved as in life over the girlish face,
-hard now as marble and colder. The moon shone full upon her, and a
-snow crystal hung here and there on the little fur parkee that she
-wore. She might have been a marble Madonna there in the moonlight.
-Through the open door came the noise of the next waltz. One of the
-girls slipped in, and the orchestra stopped. Quickly a little group
-began to gather, but Harrison did not move. He seemed as in a
-trance, staring open-eyed, mistily, at the frozen woman in the sled.
-
-Presently, Blanche, the girl who had stopped the music, touched him
-on the arm.
-
-“I know there is nothing much I can do for you,” she said. “I know
-how it feels; but I thought perhaps you’d like to bring her inside,
-and you can have my room till you--till the funeral.”
-
-And Harrison thanked her. But next day he moved the body to an empty
-cabin that stood on the river bank in the pine grove back of the
-Comique. He could not bury her, he could not give her up, he said.
-True, she could not speak to him, nor move, but even to have her
-body with him was something, a kind of comfort. The bitter cold of
-the Northland, the icy winds that roared in untrammeled fury down
-the cañon--these had killed her; now they would preserve the beauty
-they had stilled; keep her forever young, as he had known and loved
-her. Why should he bury her? And when they spoke to him of burial,
-he bade them leave him alone.
-
-Only in the afternoons, when there was no dancing in the Comique,
-Blanche used still to go daily to the cabin in the pines, and
-brought him a padlock for the door, and a lantern, and other things.
-
-It all might have drifted on in such wise indefinitely, had it not
-been that in a month Harrison had no money to buy his meals with,
-and that Blanche asked him point blank about it.
-
-“Why don’t you come over and ask Coughlin for something to do?” she
-said, when Harrison admitted that he had eaten no dinner that day.
-Coughlin was the man who ran the Comique.
-
-“What could I do?” inquired Harrison. “I’m only a bookkeeper.”
-
-But that night he asked Coughlin about it. Now twice a day Coughlin
-put all the gold and bank-notes that were in the cash drawer into
-his pocket, leaving the silver for change; and he kept his accounts,
-which were few, in his head; and he didn’t need a bookkeeper. But he
-was sorry for Harrison; and, besides, Blanche had spoken to him of
-it, and he wanted to oblige her. For Blanche was popular among the
-men, and was asked to drink oftener than any girl in the house, and
-was valuable on that account in a country where one gets a dollar
-for two drinks. So he told Harrison he could go to work.
-
-“In the morning?” said Harrison.
-
-“Any time,” said Coughlin.
-
-Harrison looked around a moment. “If you’ll show me the books, I
-think I might look them over now.”
-
-“Books?” said Coughlin, hesitatingly. “There aint any, but I guess
-you can figure all right in this, perhaps.” He produced a small
-paper-covered blank book from under the bottle rack. “You’ll find a
-lead pencil in the drawer any time”; and he bustled over to the
-faro-bank, satisfied that he had demonstrated his familiarity with
-the bookkeeping craft. He came back to ask Harrison what wages he
-was going to work for.
-
-“Anything,” said Harrison. “In New York I got seventy-five dollars a
-month.”
-
-“That aint much,” said Coughlin. “I never asked any man to take less
-than three dollars a day and board. You can eat in the restaurant
-there.” Then he introduced Harrison to Big Joe, the day bartender,
-telling Joe this was the bookkeeper.
-
-An hour later Joe called Harrison to announce that Red Sheehan had
-got a drink without paying therefor.
-
-“He never will pay for it, either,” continued the experienced Joe,
-“but I suppose you’ll put it down in the bookkeeping.”
-
-Harrison seemed a little undecided as to the value of this entry,
-and his uncertainty settled it, for thereafter Joe never mentioned
-such items, and as for Coughlin, he continued to dump the uncounted
-contents of the cash drawer at various times into his pocket, and to
-pay his debts out of the same receptacle with a total disregard to
-cash balances, daily receipts, or outstanding accounts, which made
-Harrison’s methodical hair stand on end.
-
-Occasionally, however, he would ask Harrison how he was getting
-along, and Harrison, who had debited Red Sheehan’s account with one
-drink, and who had never had occasion to make a second entry of any
-kind, generally replied that the work was pretty light.
-
-“That’s all right,” Coughlin would say. “Bookkeepers are mighty
-handy to have around in case you want to figure some time.”
-
-And so Harrison drew his three dollars a day, and ate in the
-restaurant, where Blanche usually managed to sit opposite. Then in
-the evening he sat idle in the Comique, and watched the roulette
-wheels spin and the cards drop monotonously from the faro-box, heard
-the metallic call of the dealers and the buzz of the ball in the
-runaway of the wheel; saw the dancing-girls, in all the glories of
-scarlet satin, promiscuous affection, and peroxide hair, waltz past;
-listened to the wandering musicians of the orchestra play some good
-music and much bad; sat in a chair near the end of the bar, and
-watched the carnival of sin and revelry around him, and then, about
-midnight, when he felt entitled to leave, he went back to the lonely
-cabin, where his wife lay in her changeless sleep, to sit and keep
-his vigil with her he had loved in life and still adored in death.
-
-In the restaurant he had many conversations with Blanche. “How long
-will you stay here?” she asked him once.
-
-“Always, I suppose,” he said.
-
-“But this is only a boom town,” she answered. “Next year there will
-be no one here but the Siwashes, and they will be quarreling among
-themselves for these buildings.”
-
-“I’ll stay,” persisted Harrison.
-
-“But how can you live? Coughlin is going down the river this summer,
-and a man must eat. Why don’t you come along with the rest of us?
-He’ll take everybody that is working here, for he means to open up
-again in the Yukon country.” Harrison shook his head.
-
-To Blanche he was interesting. Even in the depths to which she had
-fallen, or rather deliberately descended, there exists an
-unconfessed desire for the better things of the past, for the moral
-levels which have been derided and deserted, for the things which
-are bitter with the sourness of the grapes the fox could not attain
-to; and to talk with Harrison was a breath from the old world,
-monotonous, perhaps, but lovable, where she, too ... but she never
-thought of those things. What was the use? It made her sad, and she
-would undoubtedly drink more than usual, and get reckless, and buy
-wine with her salary and percentage money, and be in debt to the
-house for a month afterward. So she didn’t think much. It didn’t
-ever occur to her that her interest in Harrison was passing the
-danger line. It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway.
-
-                 *       *       *       *       *
-
-A month later, Coughlin announced that the Comique would have a
-grand closing one week from that night. “The money is about through
-in this town,” he said, in explanation. “We’ll move on to the gold
-mines.”
-
-Blanche discussed it that evening with Harrison in the restaurant
-The news disturbed him.
-
-“You’ll come, too?” she said. He didn’t know. “There’ll be nothing
-here,” she went on, “and it will be so lonely.”
-
-“I don’t mind the loneliness,” said Harrison.
-
-“But I’ll be lonely.”
-
-“Perhaps Coughlin wouldn’t want me, anyway. I haven’t done a stroke
-of work while I’ve been here.”
-
-“But he’ll want you if I say so. I’m the best girl he’s got,” said
-Blanche, modestly, “and if I say so it goes. And I do say so.”
-
-Harrison was silent. He had often thought of this. He had known, of
-course, that he could not live forever at the Comique. Many times he
-had decided that death were easier than a final parting from the
-dead. He had thought that he could never leave her, but
-now---- Well, the lust of life is strong. We do not know how far the
-fall is until we stand at the brink and look over. Besides there is
-no coming back. If we could only try it for a while and return
-again!
-
-“Harrison,” said Blanche, suddenly, “listen. I think I know what you
-are thinking, and I know I can not argue such a thing with you. No
-one could. You know best, and no one else can know anything about
-it. But I want to tell you one fact that perhaps you haven’t thought
-of. You want to stay here with her--always. But you can’t. I know it
-is horrible to talk of, but it is not always winter even in Alaska,
-and the summer is almost here.” The man winced. “Go to bed,
-Harrison,” she said; “I can not talk of such things. You know best.”
-
-He went away to the cabin. He knew that Blanche was right. It must
-be--but the anguish of it. How should he say the last farewell?
-
-At the foot of the mountains that stretch upward from the Dyea
-sands, he dug a grave, four feet. And that night he would bury her.
-But his resolution failed him. All night he sat beside the
-unreplying dead and stroked her icy hands. “To-morrow I will do it,”
-he said. But the next day he dug again in the grave. It should be
-six feet. And neither could he say farewell that night.
-
-Then Blanche came over to him. “We leave on Saturday. You know
-to-day is Wednesday,” she said, and went away quickly, for she saw
-the sheeted form, and understood something of his pain. On Thursday
-she came again. Harrison had not been at the restaurant all day, and
-she carried a tray with her. The cabin was empty, but a note on the
-table said: “I can not give her up. I could not hide her in a grave
-of earth. I will lay her on the mountain top above the glacier.
-Thank you. Good-by.”
-
-Now the glacier lies in a greater crater of the mountains there,
-above the snow line, five thousand feet above Dyea; and behind it
-there towers a solitary peak that juts needle-like, head and
-shoulders over the lesser crags of the crater. Up above the world,
-far from the sound of man, into the great silence it reaches, where
-only the northern lights keep the long vigils with its
-wind-tormented top.
-
-That night when Blanche asked Billy Matthews, who ought to know,
-being a squaw-man and an old-timer there, how long it would take to
-go to the glacier, he said the Siwashes called it two days. “And how
-long would it take to go to the top of the big peak?” Matthews
-smiled. “Why, no one’s ever gone, sis, and I don’t scarcely think
-they will.”
-
-But the next day Blanche borrowed the glasses from the trading-post
-and watched the snow line. About four o’clock a black speck
-gradually emerged at the timber limit, and showed sharply against
-the snow-fields that lay beyond. The glasses showed a man with a
-long bundle upon his back. Blanche closed them, and watched the
-speck with her naked eye. Slowly it crept to the foot of the great
-ice rampart, and as it mounted the green precipices, a bank of cloud
-engulfed it.
-
-Early next morning Blanche searched the mountain with the glasses.
-The speck had crossed the miles of glacier in the night, and was
-half way up the mighty pinnacle that lay behind. There it clung to a
-precarious hold on the storm-swept crag, its ghastly burden still
-upon its shoulders. Five hundred feet below it lay a great
-snow-field, hundreds of feet deep. Five hundred feet above it hung
-the mountain crest. Blanche could see the wind sweep great banks of
-snow around the speck. The footing must have been slippery, for the
-speck climbed less than a hundred feet in an hour, and then, as a
-wind-gust swept a swirling eddy of sleet across the precipice, it
-fell--fell straight to the eternal snows five hundred feet beneath
-it, and disappeared. Even with the glasses Blanche could see no hole
-in the drift, and besides the wind would fill it full again almost
-at once.
-
-Gray-lipped, she sought out Matthews. “Billy,” she asked him, “how
-far would a man sink in that snow up there if he fell off the top of
-the peak?”
-
-“My God, what questions,” said Billy. “How do I know? He’d stay a
-thousand years, anyway.”
-
-
-
-
-THE JEWELS OF BENDITA
-
-By Gibert Cunyngham Terry
-
-
-Old Bendito was digging when he found them--“the jewels of Bendita.”
-He had been ordered by Don Francisco to make a new border around the
-“Little Lake of the Emperor” (as it is called even to these days),
-and, grumbling mightily, the old man set lazily to work. Stopping
-only occasionally to refresh himself with a corn-husk cigarette,
-Bendito dug away for as much as two hours, when he was joined by his
-comrade, Andrés, who proceeded to pass the time of day.
-
-“What makest thou, friend? Wherefore dost toil so strenuously with
-no friend to assist thee, and in the heat of the day?”
-
-“Oh, lazybones! According to that fool, Don Francisco--may the devil
-fly away with him--I am making a new bordering for the little lake.
-For why? Only God knows. But these strangers--_la Virgen_ bear
-witness that--lacking other work, they make a hole in the ground, in
-order that a poor devil may have to straightway fill it up again!”
-
-Overwhelmed by his own eloquence, old Bendito groaned, emitted a
-fiery Indian oath, and set to spading. “To that mango tree, and no
-further, I will dig to-day!” he muttered. “To the devil with Don
-Francisco.”
-
-Andrés, sprawling in the sunshine, offered sarcastic comments and
-encouragements. “Have a care, comrade. Knowest thou not that there
-is wealth concealed in this same garden of the emperor? Oh, yes! I
-overheard Padre Diego say so to the Obispo. Be careful lest thou dig
-it up, little brother.”
-
-In cynical disbelief, Bendito dug away. “Thinkest thou that if
-riches were here, Padre Diego and the Obispo would leave them
-untouched? Nonsense. They-of-the-church never allow the paring of a
-nail to remain, much less treasure. Compose thyself, little Andrés.
-_Once_ there may have been buried treasure of the emperor. But the
-nose of the church is sharp, and it smells gold while yet far off.”
-
-At this juncture, Bendito’s spade interrupted conversation with a
-loud and startling “clink, clank,” and crossing themselves, their
-faces gray with superstitious terror, both _peons_ fled with all
-haste from the spot. Their first thought was that a coffin had been
-uncovered, and only witches and unblessed heretics would be buried
-here in this unhallowed ground. But, as they ran, another idea
-occurred to them. They stopped abruptly, and low talk ensued. Then
-they stole cautiously back to the mango tree, where the spade still
-stood upright. And while old Bendito dug away, in fear and
-trembling, but with more energy than he had displayed since the big
-earthquake (wherein part of his roof came down upon his head),
-Andrés watched to see that no one caught them. Who knew what might
-be uncovered? It was well to be cautious.
-
-Firmly embedded in the earth, the men found a large wooden box.
-Rotting from damp, with its copper bands oxidized, there still
-showed intact an insignia that caused the Indians to tremble with
-excitement. And no wonder. They had stumbled upon the buried
-treasure of an emperor.
-
-They hurried with the wonderful box to a small ruined pavilion at
-one end of the great melancholy garden. No one ever visited this
-little rustic building, which the superstitious vowed was haunted by
-the unhappy emperor. But, forgetful of spirits or other evils,
-Bendito and Andrés pushed back the door, and, in the half gloom,
-wrenched open the rotting box.
-
-Out upon Bendito’s faded _tilma_, spread beneath the box, dropped
-things that made even those ignorant Indians gasp in greedy terror.
-How they sparkled and shone--these ornaments that great queens and
-empresses had worn--the chains of brilliant white stones, necklaces
-of rubies and emeralds, exquisite ear ornaments, the diamond-studded
-portraits of royalties, and other fabulously valuable things. There
-were not more than a dozen articles in all, and yet worth much
-money, as these men knew. For they had both traveled to the great,
-rich capital city, on the Paseo, where the wealthy dames wore these
-same sparkling stones. The two replaced the jewels, their fingers
-trembling and eyes burning with greed, and begun to discuss the
-division. And the sun sank low while they argued and disagreed.
-
-Andrés, having no home or family wherewith to bless himself, was not
-missed that night. But old Juana, the wife of Bendito, being of a
-suspicious and jealous temperament, at last pricked forth in search
-of her missing lord. As it was late, there went with her their
-daughter, Bendita, a flat, squat maiden of sixteen. A good girl she
-was, but as homely as could well be.
-
-Bendito was not to be found in his usual haunts. Neither the
-“Caballitos” nor the “Haven of Peaceful Men” _cantine_ knew him, and
-he was not listening to the music in the plaza. These things being
-so, the baleful eye of his spouse lit up fiercely.
-
-“The disgraceful old devil,” she muttered to Bendita, “is, without
-doubt, in the great garden, which is sufficiently retired and
-convenient for flirtations. We will find him there, doubtless, with
-the wife of Pepe.”
-
-And there they found him, very dead, but not with the wife of Pepe!
-Instead, his companion was the equally dead Andrés. They had
-evidently quarreled over the treasure, and then fought with
-_machetes_. Between the two was the wooden box, with copper bands.
-It was blood-covered, and the women of old Bendito wailed and
-crossed themselves as they looked upon it and the two men who had
-fought over it to the death. They hastily flung Bendito’s blanket
-over him, and, crossing themselves, started to flee.
-
-Bendita, lingering to caress the old man, again noted the box. “It
-may be that it contains money,” she whispered, and picked it up,
-though her mother protested.
-
-With _rebosos_ closely drawn, the women scurried homeward, leaving
-the dead men alone where they had fallen. Heartless of them? Well,
-no, for in the tropics law and order sometimes mean little, and
-these women knew well that, if they gave the alarm, they would
-probably be suspected and convicted of the murder.
-
-Stealthily opened, at midnight, the box proved to contain what old
-Juana and her daughter mistook for mere white, red, and green
-glass--no gold and no silver! The old woman, in a transport of rage,
-sorrow, and disappointment, spit upon the jewels. “Accursed things
-of mere glass,” she screamed, “to think that my poor Bendito died
-for such valueless things as _you_.”
-
-There was great lamentation next morning when old Bendito was found
-and brought home to his alarmed family. They wept and wailed so that
-people were very sorry for them, and Padre Diego volunteered, in the
-goodness of his heart, to say fifty masses, “at a merely nominal
-price,” for the soul of the departed _peon_. Andrés, no one seemed
-to regret, and no masses were ever said over him, at bargain prices
-or otherwise. And so Andrés and Bendito passed away, by no means the
-first men to die for the sake of greed and riches.
-
-While the widow and daughter of Bendito considered the “glass
-jewels” of no value, for all the world wore gold and silver
-trinkets, they were nevertheless afraid to speak or even hint of
-them, lest they be suspected of complicity in the murder. Therefore,
-the box was kept hidden in a secret place, and for a while the widow
-kept her mouth closed, though she dearly loved to gossip. But the
-custody of the box, and the consequent secrecy entailed upon her,
-were entirely too much for poor Juana. She sickened and began to
-pine for her country, as the Indians so quaintly call their
-birthplaces.
-
-Wherefore, their belongings were disposed of, and the two women
-proceeded to their old home, many leagues distant. With them was
-carried the crumbling box of jewels. Not long after reaching her
-birthplace, Juana proceeded to die. Toward the last, she grew
-exceedingly nervous over the “glass jewels,” speculating much as to
-their value, and declaring that at the worst they might be pawned
-for a _peso_ or two. And, still babbling of them, the old woman
-died, and was, in Biblical fashion, “buried with her fathers.”
-
-While not of a superstitious disposition, Bendita began to
-experience some of her mother’s qualms about the box and its
-contents. Finally, for its safety, she secretly removed several
-tiles from the floor of her room, and concealed the jewels therein.
-Then, satisfied that no one would find them there, she gave no more
-thought to the matter, for of what avail were the baubles? “One can
-not eat or drink them,” she mused. “But for their sake my poor
-father died.”
-
-At this time, Ponciana, the pretty daughter of Pancho, the
-_cargador_, returned from Mission school to her proud family. After
-her there trailed, later, her sweetheart, Amado. And after Amado, in
-turn, came the deluge. For untoward things began to occur. First was
-the falling in love of poor homely Bendita. This, of course, was all
-right; any woman can fall in love with any man, if she so elects.
-But ordinary decency demands that she at least restrain her passion
-when the betrothed of another woman is concerned. And it was Amado,
-Ponciana’s novio, upon whom Bendita needs must cast eyes. Of course,
-it was absurd. For Bendita was square, fat, and flat (if you can
-figure to yourself such a combination), while Ponciana was
-exceedingly sweet and pretty. Besides, she had been taught in
-Mission school, knew some English and much quaint slang, and was a
-fascinating little Indian maiden.
-
-“La Ponciana, she knows _much_,” had been Amado’s glowing
-description to that potent personage, his mother. “She plays the
-piano and guitar well, and sings, aye, as do the birds! And she
-dances in a manner entirely exquisite--and sews and embroiders.”
-
-Despite all this eloquence, however, Amado, after due temptation,
-heartlessly jilted Ponciana for the unattractive and homely Bendita.
-It happened thus: Unable to make any impression on the handsome
-Amado, despite her sighs and eye-rolling, Bendita at length decided
-to take, as it were, a back seat, and merely view from afar her
-beloved, who nightly paraded in the plaza with his beloved. And here
-it was, one evening, that a brilliant thought came to Bendita.
-
-It was an ideal night, “one borrowed from Paradise,” as the poetical
-Amado had murmured to his Ponciana. Great bright stars blazed in a
-velvety-blue sky, while silvery moonlight cast a radiance over the
-beautiful tropical plaza, wherein fountains trickled musically, and
-glowing flowers of the tropics heavily perfumed the soft, languid
-air. From the remote band-stand came sweet, faint strains of the
-exquisite “Angel de Amor,” while the lowered voices of many gay
-loungers murmured in musical harmony therewith.
-
-Every one seemed so happy that it was no wonder that tears came to
-Bendita’s eyes, as she sat, alone and neglected, in her solitary
-corner. “I have so much homeliness,” she thought, drearily; “no one
-will ever wish me for a _novia_--_ay de mi_!”
-
-Again Amado and Ponciana passed by, Ponciana smiling and dimpling.
-She wore a white _mantilla_, while on her finger there was a genuine
-ring of gold, set with a white stone that sparkled in the moonlight.
-It was the ring of betrothal, that day given. Amado, being poor, had
-secured it cheaply from a pawnshop. But Ponciana did not know.
-
-As she gayly flitted by, Bendita noted the sparkle of the ring. “It
-is like the little glass jewels,” she pondered. “How Amado seems to
-like it! I might--I might wear those at home. They sparkle, too.”
-
-Behold Bendita, therefore, the next night, arrayed even more
-magnificently than Solomon in all his glory. For Solomon, whatever
-he may have gotten himself up in, surely never wore such huge
-diamond ornaments in the ears, such diamonds and rubies in the hair,
-such magnificent bracelets. All this was topped off by a long string
-of diamonds and pearls, while outside her _mantilla_, at the neck,
-Bendita displayed, in all humility, a necklace of pear-shaped black
-and white pearls.
-
-Amado, who had served for three years as a pawnbroker’s clerk, alone
-of the crowd in the plaza knew that the girl’s jewels were
-real--fabulously rich. “_Carrambas_,” he thought, excitedly; “she,
-in those jewels, is rich as a princess. El Señor Vega, alone, would
-give fifty thousand _pesos_ for them!”
-
-Others, noting the new finery of the homely girl, said smilingly:
-“What pretty playthings of glass has our good Bendita found?”
-
-A week’s time saw the feckless Amado off with the old love and on
-with the new. Quick work, it is true, but--consider the extenuating
-circumstances. To do him justice, he had a plan for securing the
-jewels (with Bendita, if it had to be), and later, making matters up
-with his own pretty first love. Two things prevented this, however:
-first, Bendita rarely wore, touched, or mentioned the jewels, and he
-was fearful of exciting her suspicions; second, the jilted Ponciana
-had vanished from the ken of even her own family. No one seemed to
-know where she was. Old Madre Piedad, in San Geronimo town near by,
-knew. The latter dame, thought to be a witch, was the girl’s near
-relative. To her Ponciana had stated merely that some one had
-injured her; and asked if Madre Maria would keep her quietly hidden,
-and teach her how to avenge herself. Madre Piedad promised, and the
-two, with the aid of an ugly, squat, herb-stuffed doll, a brazero of
-hot coals, and some long pins, set the ball of vengeance in motion.
-
-Meanwhile, instead of preparing for marriage, Bendita fell
-grievously ill. She lost flesh rapidly, could not eat, drink, or
-rest, and complained of agonizing pains that shot through her body.
-A doctor was consulted, but could not relieve her. Then various old
-women congregated and muttered together--they could do nothing! Of a
-truth, it could be nothing less than the _mal del ojo_ (evil eye),
-and with that only old Madre Piedad, of San Geronimo, could cope.
-Wherefore Madre Piedad was sent for, and entreated.
-
-At dusk she arrived--a bundled-up old dame, her halting steps aided
-by crutches, and her face shrouded in many _tapalos_. A large bundle
-came with her--“medicines,” she gruffly explained. The other women,
-secretly in deadly terror of her, gladly withdrew at her commands.
-“If you wish me to make a cure, you must get out and leave me alone
-with the patient,” she ordered. And not until the premises were
-clear did she begin operations.
-
-“Arise!” she commanded the suffering Bendita, “arise, and search out
-the glass trinkets which spirits tell me you have hidden away! Place
-the trinkets, _all_ of them, in this earthen bowl of water, and let
-them remain so for eight hours. In the morning drink the water,
-after removing the glass jewels. You will then be entirely cured, I
-promise you.”
-
-Dazed and sick, poor Bendita arose from her bed and stumbled about,
-obeying the old woman’s mandates. All of the jewels were deposited
-in an earthen bowl, which, half filled with holy water, was placed
-in the exact centre of the room. Then, swallowing a colorless liquid
-that Madre Piedad gave her, Bendita was soon fast asleep. The old
-witch smiled to herself as she listened to the sick girl’s deep,
-regular breathing. “Well may she sleep,” she muttered, who had
-shamelessly given a nostrum that would induce eight hours’ sleep.
-
-And now the old body set busily to work. First she deftly
-manufactured, out of her mysterious bundle, a dummy figure that
-exactly resembled her own. This she seated prominently before the
-doorway, so that chance visitors seeing it would, in their fear of
-her, retire without entering. Quickly she slipped out of her many
-_tapalos_ and other disguises, and stood forth, straight, young, and
-lovely--no less a being than the jilted Ponciana! Hastily she
-removed the jewels from their watery resting-place, transferring
-them to a stout bag, which she tied about her waist, under a
-_reboso_. The bowl she left in its original position, save that into
-it she cast a small, ragged, rudely made doll, into which had been
-plunged many pins. This done, she was ready for flight. “_Adios_,
-Bendita,” she chuckled, with a wicked smile on her pretty face. “You
-can have my lover--for I have your rich jewels!”
-
-Various neighbors came next morning to inquire for the sick girl,
-but were frightened away by the supposed figure of the witch.
-Bendita herself, waking up entirely cured after ten hours’ sleep,
-first discovered the trick, and cast forth the dummy figure, with
-much wailing and gnashing of teeth. But all was not lost, even if
-the jewels were gone for aye. Because, drolly enough, Amado was so
-sorry for the bereft one that he married her, and they have been
-happy ever after.
-
-And Ponciana? Did you ever happen to see the exquisite Señora de la
-Villa y Garcia, “of Mexico and Paris,” with her wrinkled old
-husband, and her beautiful toilettes and jewels? Well, _that_ is
-Ponciana.
-
-
-
-
-THE MAN-DOG
-
-By Nathan C. Kouns
-
-
-My first knowledge of the singular being called “Du Chien, the
-Man-Dog,” began when we were on duty down in the Peché country, a
-short time after General Taylor’s celebrated “Run on the Banks,” in
-the vicinity of Mansfield. The cavalry had really very little to do
-except “to feed,” and await orders. As a result of this idleness
-many of the officers and men formed pleasant acquaintances with the
-hospitable planters in whose neighborhood we were located.
-
-One of the planters whom I found to be most congenial was Captain
-Martas, a French creole, whose father had come from Languedoc. He
-was himself native-born. He was a man of forty-eight or fifty years
-of age, and had two sons by his first marriage, who were in the army
-of Virginia, and a boy two years of age, by his second wife, who was
-a young and beautiful lady. The housekeeper was a mulatto girl, who
-was in every physical development almost a perfect being--even her
-small hands looking like consummate wax-work. She had been taught,
-petted, and indulged as much, perhaps, or more than any slave should
-have been, especially by Captain Martas, who uniformly spoke to her
-more in the tone of a father addressing his daughter, than in that
-of a master commanding a slave. She was always gentle and obedient.
-The family seemed to prize her very greatly, and the little boy
-especially preferred her to his own beautiful mother. I suppose it
-would be hard for the later generation, who remember little or
-nothing of the “domestic institution,” to understand how such a
-pleasant and beautiful confidence and friendship could exist between
-a slave and her owners, but it was no uncommon thing in the South
-before the war.
-
-The family was so attractive that I visited it often; but one
-evening, on my arrival at the house, I found that its peace and
-quiet had been disturbed by one of those painful occurrences which
-so often marred the happiness of Southern families, and which really
-constituted the curse of “the peculiar institution.”
-
-The day before, the beautiful and accomplished wife of Captain
-Martas had, for some unexplained reason, got into a frenzy of rage
-with Celia, the mulattress, and had ordered the overseer to give her
-a severe whipping. The girl had run off into the Black Swamp during
-the night, and Captain Martas, who imparted this information to me,
-was in a state of terrible distress by reason of her absence. He did
-not seem to understand the cause of the trouble, but he could not
-justify his slave without condemning his wife, whom he seemed to
-regard with a most tender and dutiful devotion. The only emotion
-which seemed to master him was a heart-breaking and hopeless grief.
-I volunteered to hunt for the runaway, and while asking for such
-information as I thought to be necessary about the neighboring
-plantations, and of the almost boundless and impracticable
-wilderness known as the Black Swamp, I saw Celia slowly and quietly
-coming up the broad walk which led from the portico to the big gate.
-
-She carried in her hand a branch of the magnolia tree, from which
-depended a splendid blossom of that most glorious of all flowers.
-She bowed slightly as she came near the portico, and, passing around
-the corner of the house, entered it by a side door. Mrs. Martas was
-most passionately devoted to the magnolia, and, from her
-exclamations of delight, which were soon heard in the hall, we knew
-that Celia had brought the beautiful flower as a peace-offering to
-her mistress, and that it had been accepted as such. Very soon the
-two women came nearer, and from our seats on the veranda we could
-hear their conversation. A terrible weight seemed to have been
-lifted from the heart of Captain Martas by the girl’s return, and by
-the apparent renewal of friendly relations between his beautiful
-wife and his even more beautiful slave--a relief which showed itself
-in his face and form, but not in his speech.
-
-“Yes,” said Celia to Mrs. Martas, “it is an old, wide-spreading tree
-on the very edge of the water, and is glorious with just such
-splendid blossoms as these. There must be more than three hundred
-clusters, some that I could not reach being much larger and finer
-than this one.”
-
-“And you say,” answered Mrs. Martas, “that the air is still, and
-that the perfume broods all around the tree? Oh, how sweet!”
-
-“Yes,” said Celia, “it is so strong that you can taste as well as
-smell the wonderful perfume. Few people could bear to stand
-immediately beneath the shade; it is so sweet as to be almost
-overpowering.”
-
-“Oh, how I wish I could see it! How far is it, Celia?”
-
-“Only four miles. You can go. It is deep in the swamp: but the pony
-can follow the ridge all the way. You can go, and get home before
-dusk. I would like you to see it before a rain makes the road too
-bad, or the winds come and scatter the delicious perfume that now
-hangs as heavy as dew all around the glorious tree for yards and
-yards away.”
-
-“I will go,” she cried. “Tell Toby to bring out Selim, and you can
-take a horse. Let us go at once. It is getting late.”
-
-“I would rather walk,” said Celia, “so as to be sure that I will not
-miss the route in going back, although I watched so carefully that I
-know I can find it on foot.”
-
-Very soon a boy led up Mrs. Martas’s pony, and she went out to the
-steps and mounted, followed by Celia on foot. The girl held the
-stirrup for her mistress, and as she did so looked back at Captain
-Martas with eyes in which shone strange love, pity, and tenderness;
-but the voice of her mistress called her away, and, even in turning
-her black and lustrous eyes toward Captain Martas, their expression
-totally changed, and showed for a fleeting instant the murderous
-glitter that gleamed from the eyes of a panther when ready for a
-fatal spring.
-
-I was startled and troubled, and half moved forward to tell the lady
-not to go; but a moment’s reflection showed me how foolish such an
-unnecessary and silly interference would seem. A strange mistrust
-flitted across my mind, but there was nothing on which to base it. I
-could not give a reason for it, except to say that I had seen the
-light of a gladiator’s eye, the twitch and spasm of an assassin’s
-lip, in the eye and mouth of that now smiling and dutiful young
-slave girl. The thing was too foolish to think of, and I held my
-peace.
-
-The women passed out of the gate, and went on quietly in the
-direction of the Black Swamp. Martas and I resumed our conversation.
-Hour after hour passed away, and the sun grew large and low in the
-West; still Mrs. Martas did not return. The sun was setting--set;
-but she had not come. Then Captain Martas called Toby and had him
-ride to the edge of the wood and see if he could learn anything of
-his mistress; but Toby soon came back, saying that he saw nothing
-except the pony’s tracks leading into the swamp, and the pony
-himself leisurely coming home without a rider. Then Captain Martas
-mounted, and I followed him. He took the plantation conch-shell, and
-we rode on into the dark forest as long as we could trace any
-footsteps of the pony, or find any open way, and again and again
-Captain Martas blew resonant blasts upon his shell that rolled far
-away over the swamp, seeking to apprise his wife that we were there,
-and waiting for her; but nothing came of it.
-
-“They could hear the shell,” he said, “upon a still night like this
-three or four miles,” and it seemed to him impossible that they
-could have gone beyond the reach of the sound. But no answer came,
-and the moonless night came down over the great Black Swamp, and the
-darkness grew almost visible, so thoroughly did it shut off all
-vision like a vast black wall.
-
-Then Martas sent Toby back to the plantation for fire and blankets,
-and more men, and soon a roaring blaze mounted skyward, and every
-few minutes the conch-shell was blown. Nothing more could be done. I
-remained with the now sorely troubled husband through the night. At
-the first peep of dawn he had breakfast brought from the plantation,
-and as soon as it became light enough to see in the great forest, we
-searched for and found the pony’s track, and we carefully followed
-the traces left in the soft soil. The chase led, with marvelous
-turns and twists, right along the little ridge of firmer land which
-led irregularly on between the boundless morasses stretched on
-either side, trending now this way, now that, but always penetrating
-deeper and deeper into the almost unknown bosom of the swamp. The
-pony had followed his own trail in coming out of the swamp, and this
-made it easier for us to trace his way. At last we came to the dark,
-sluggish, sullen water. It was a point of solid ground, of less than
-an acre in extent, a foot or two above the water, almost circular in
-outline, and nearly surrounded by the lagoon. It was comparatively
-clear of timber, and near the centre rose a grand magnolia tree,
-such as Celia had described to Mrs. Martas on the evening before. At
-the root of this tree, bathed with the rich, overpowering perfume of
-the wonderful bloom above her, lay the dead body of the beautiful
-woman, her clothes disordered, her hair disheveled, a coarse, dirty
-handkerchief stuffed into her mouth, and all the surroundings giving
-evidence of a despairing struggle and a desperate crime. Captain
-Martas was overcome with anguish, and after one agonized look
-around, as if to assure himself that Celia was not also somewhere in
-sight, he sat down beside the body and gazed upon his murdered wife
-in silent, helpless agony of spirit.
-
-I desired all the men to remain where they were, except Toby, whom I
-ordered to follow me; and then, beginning at the little ridge of
-land between the waters by which we had reached the circular space
-before described, we followed the edge of the ground completely
-round to the starting point, seeking in the soft mud along the shore
-for a footprint, or the mark made by a canoe or skiff, for some
-evidence of the route by which the murderer had reached the little
-peninsula, or by which Celia had left it.
-
-We found perfect tracks of all animal life existing in the swamps,
-even to the minute lines left by the feet of the smallest birds, but
-no trace of a human foot, although a snail could not have passed
-into or out of the water without leaving his mark upon the yielding
-mud, much less a footstep or a canoe.
-
-The thing was inexplicable. Where was Celia? How had she gone
-without leaving a trace of her departure? Had she been there at all?
-Who had murdered Mrs. Martas? Surely some man or devil had
-perpetrated that crime. How had the villain escaped from the scene
-of his crime, leaving not the slightest clew by which it was
-possible to tell which way he had gone?
-
-I reported to Captain Martas the exact condition of the affair, and
-told him I knew not what to do, unless we could get bloodhounds and
-put them on the trail. He said there were no hounds within sixty
-miles; that all of the planters he knew preferred to lose a runaway
-rather than to follow them with the dogs. Rumors of the loss of Mrs.
-Martas had spread from plantation to camp, and two or three soldiers
-had immediately ridden out to the plantation, and then had followed
-us to the scene of the crime. One of them said: “If there are no
-hounds, send to camp for old Du Chien. He is better than any dog.”
-
-The remark was so singular that I asked: “What do you mean by saying
-‘He is better than any dog’?”
-
-“I mean that he can follow the trail by the scent better than any
-hound I ever saw, and I have seen hundreds of them.”
-
-“Is that a mere camp story,” said I, “or do you know it of your own
-knowledge?”
-
-“I know it myself, sir,” said the soldier. “I have seen him smell a
-man or his clothes, and then go blindfold into a whole regiment and
-pick out that man by his scent. I have seen him pull a lock of wool
-off a sheep, smell it good, and then go blindfold into the pen and
-pick out that identical sheep from fifty others. I have known him to
-smell the blanket a nigger slept in, and follow that darky four or
-five miles by the scent of him through cotton, corn, and woods. He
-is better than a dog.”
-
-The man looked to be honest and intelligent; and while I could
-hardly credit such an astounding and abnormal development of the
-nasal power in a human being, there was nothing else to do; so I
-told him to take my horse and his own, ride as quickly as possible
-to camp, and bring old Du Chien with him.
-
-Then we made a litter, and slowly and reverently we bore the corpse
-of the murdered lady along the difficult road until we reached a
-point to which it was possible to bring a carriage, in which we
-placed her in charge of the horrified neighbors, who had by this
-time collected at the plantation.
-
-Captain Martas insisted on remaining with me and awaiting the coming
-of Du Chien.
-
-More than two hours elapsed before the soldier whom I had sent for
-Du Chien, the Man-Dog, returned with that strange creature. He
-surely deserved his name. He must have been six feet high, but was
-so lank, loose, flabby, and jumbled-up that it was hard to even
-guess at his stature. His legs were long and lank, and his hands
-hung down to his knees. A bristly shock of red hair grew nearly down
-to his eyebrows, and his head slanted back to a point, sugar-loaf
-fashion. His chin seemed to have slid back into his lank, flabby
-neck, and his face looked as if it stopped at the round, red,
-slobbering mouth. His nose was not remarkably large, but the sloping
-away of all the facial lines from it, as from a central point, gave
-his nasal organ an expression of peculiar prominence and
-significance. When he walked, every bone and muscle about him
-drooped forward, as if he were about to fall face foremost and
-travel with his hands and feet.
-
-Briefly I explained what had happened, and thereupon Du Chien, who
-seemed to be a man of few words, said: “Stay where you are, all of
-you, for a minute.” Then he started off at his singular dog-trot
-pace, and followed the edge of the water all the way around, just as
-I had done, lightly, but with wonderful celerity. Then he came back
-to us, looking much puzzled. I handed him the coarse, dirty
-handkerchief which I had taken from the dead woman’s mouth, and Du
-Chien immediately buried that wonderful nose of his in it, and
-snuffed at it long and vigorously. Having apparently satisfied
-himself, he removed the dirty rag from his face and said: “Nigger.”
-
-“No,” said I, thinking of Celia, and looking Du Chien in his little,
-round, deep-set eyes; “a mulatto.”
-
-“No,” he answered, with quiet assurance; “not mulatto; nigger;
-black, wool-headed, and old--a buck nigger.”
-
-“What can you do?” said I.
-
-“Wait a minute,” said Du Chien. Then he started off again to make
-the circuit of the peninsula, but more slowly and deliberately than
-at first. He threw his head from side to side, like a hound, and
-smelled at every tree and shrub. He had got about half way around
-when he reached a mighty tree that grew on the edge of the swamp,
-leaning out over the water where it was narrowest and deepest, and
-seemed to mingle its branches with the branches of another tree of a
-similar gigantic growth that grew upon the other side. He walked up
-to this tree, saying: “Nigger went up here!” and at once began to
-climb. The inclination of the great trunk and the lowness of the
-branches made the task an easy one. Almost instantly, Captain
-Martas, I, and two or three soldiers followed Du Chien up the tree.
-Du Chien had gone up some thirty feet into the dense foliage, when
-all at once he left the body of the tree, and began to slide along a
-great limb that extended out over the water, holding to the branches
-around and above him until he got into the lateral branches of the
-tree on the opposite side, and thence to the trunk of that tree,
-down which he glided, and stood upon the opposite bank waiting for
-us to follow. We did so as speedily as possible, and as soon as we
-were safely landed by his side, Du Chien said: “Single file, all!”
-and started off, smelling the trees and bushes as he went.
-
-The spot at which we had descended seemed to be a hummock similar to
-that on the other side, but less regular in its outline; and soon
-the way by which Du Chien led us became more and more difficult and
-impassable. Often it seemed that the next step would take us right
-into the dark and sluggish water, but Du Chien, almost without
-pausing at all, would smell at the leaves and branches and hurry on,
-now planting his foot upon a clod just rising out of the water, now
-stepping upon a fallen and half-rotted log, now treading a fringe of
-more solid ground skirting the dreary lagoon, but going every moment
-deeper and deeper into the most pathless and inaccessible portions
-of the swamp.
-
-For nearly two hours this strange man followed the trail, and we
-followed him. At last we came to a considerable elevation of ground
-under which opened a little V-shaped valley made by the water of a
-branch which drained the high land into the swamp. This valley was
-rather more than two acres in extent, and seemed to be a clearing.
-But there was a thick-set growth of sweet gum, holly, and magnolia
-across the opening toward the swamp, beyond which we could not see.
-
-With quickened steps, and with many of the same signs of excitement
-manifested by a hound when the trail grows hot, Du Chien followed
-along this hedge-like line of underbrush, and at its farther end
-stopped. There, within three feet of where the steep bank ran into
-the water, which seemed to be of great depth, was an opening in the
-hedge. He slipped cautiously through it, and we followed him in
-silence. It was a little garden in the heart of the swamp, lying
-between the hills and the water. At the apex of the V-shaped valley
-was a miserable cabin with some fruit trees growing round about it.
-We gazed upon the scene with profound astonishment.
-
-“Do you know anything of this place, Captain Martas?” said I, in a
-low tone.
-
-“No,” said he; “several years ago one of my fieldhands, a gigantic
-Abyssinian, was whipped and ran away to the swamp; I never followed
-him, and have never seen him since, although every now and then I
-heard of him by the report of the negroes on the plantation; I
-suppose he has been living somewhere in the swamp ever since, and,
-unless this is his home, I can not imagine how such a place came to
-be here.”
-
-“The nigger is there,” said Du Chien. “If there are a dozen of them
-I can tell the right one by the smell,” and again he put the old
-handkerchief to his nose.
-
-“If it is old Todo,” said Captain Martas, “he is a powerful and
-desperate man, and we had better be cautious.”
-
-We formed a line, and slowly and cautiously approached. We had got
-within ten or twelve feet of his door, when we saw a gigantic,
-half-clad negro spring from the floor, gaze out at us an instant
-with fierce, startled eyes, and then, with a yell like that of some
-wild beast roused up in its lair, he seized an axe which stood just
-at the door, and, whirling it around his head with savage fury,
-darted straight at Captain Martas. It seemed to me that the huge,
-black form was actually in the air, springing toward the object of
-its hatred and fear, when one of the soldiers sent a ball from his
-revolver crushing through old Todo’s skull. With a savage, beastly
-cry, the huge bulk fell headlong to the earth.
-
-“It is a pity,” said Martas; “I wished to burn the black devil
-alive.”
-
-At that instant Du Chien cried out: “Look there!” And extending his
-arm toward the top of the ridge, he started off at full speed. We
-all looked up and saw Celia flying for dear life toward the forest
-of the high ground behind the cabin, and we joined in the chase. It
-was perhaps forty yards up the slope to the highest part, and about
-the same distance down the other side to the water’s edge. Just as
-we got to the crest, Celia, who had already reached the water’s
-edge, leaped lightly into a small canoe and began to ply the paddle
-vigorously, and with a stroke or two sent the frail bark gliding
-swiftly away from the shore, while she looked back at us with a
-wicked smile. In a moment more she would be beyond our reach, and
-the soldier who had shot Todo leveled his fatal revolver at her
-head. But Captain Martas knocked the weapon up, saying, in a voice
-choked with emotion: “No, no! let the girl go! She is my daughter.”
-
-Swiftly and silently the slight canoe swept away over the dark
-waters of the great, black swamp, now hidden in the shadow, now a
-moment glancing through some little patch of sunlight, always
-receding farther and farther, seen less often, seen less distinctly
-every moment, and then seen no more.
-
-
-
-
-THE AMATEUR REVOLUTIONIST
-
-By John Fleming Wilson
-
-
-If you should see bronzed men or men with soldierly bearing
-frequenting a certain office in a small street in San Francisco, and
-if you knew who the men were or what they represented, you could
-predict to a nicety the next Central American revolution, its
-leaders, and its outcome. That is because San Francisco is the place
-where everything commences, and many have their end in the way of
-troubles in the “sister republics.”
-
-Three years ago the present government of Guatemala missed overthrow
-by just a hair. As the man who had been financing the insurrection
-said bitterly when the bottom fell out: “If it weren’t for women
-there’d be no revolutions, and if it weren’t for a woman every
-revolution would be successful.” He said this to the man who knows
-more about troubles political where there’s money and fighting than
-any other man in the world. This man nodded his head with a smile
-not often seen on his spare face. The financier didn’t like the
-look, and he growled some more: “They might at least have let me
-hold the government up for my expenses before calling the whole
-business off. I could have got everything back and interest on my
-venture.”
-
-The other man kept on smiling. “That’s the way you fellows look at
-it. If you can’t win, sell out at a good price. But that don’t win
-in the long run. One woman can spoil the scheme.”
-
-Two years before this a young woman landed from the Pacific Mail
-steamer _City of Para_, and registered at the Palace as from
-Mazatlan. She had a little maid who giggled and talked Mexican, some
-luggage with Vienna and Paris hotel labels over it, and the manner
-of a deposed queen. She signed herself as “Srta Maria Rivas.”
-
-In due time Señorita Rivas left the hotel for quiet lodgings on
-Vallejo Street. But before she disappeared from the court, a
-gentle-mannered old man, with knotty hands, called and introduced a
-companion. “This is the young man I spoke to your excellency about.
-I present Señor Thomas Vincent.” Then the gray-haired man slipped
-away, and Thomas Vincent was left looking down into the dark face of
-Maria Rivas. He did not know why he was there, nor who she was, nor
-even the name of the man who had introduced him. But he was not
-sorry.
-
-She let him stand while she glanced him over. Vincent drew himself
-up at her somewhat insolent manner, and was rewarded by a smile.
-
-“Will you accept an invitation to supper to-night if I press you
-very hard?” she asked him in smooth English.
-
-Vincent turned his eyes about the court. Then he looked down at her
-again, and nodded curtly. “Certainly, madam.” He flushed, and went
-on, “But I failed to catch your name. I am awfully embarrassed.”
-
-She got to her feet, and held out a slender hand. “I am Miss Mary
-Rivas,” she said, quietly. “My father was formerly the president of
-Honduras. I went to school at Bryn Mawr, and I met your sister
-there. That’s why, when I found you were in San Francisco, I asked
-to have you brought and introduced.”
-
-Vincent looked at her very soberly, almost pityingly. Then he
-offered her his arm, and they went into the supper-room, where
-everybody turned to watch their progress, knowing neither of them.
-
-When she removed to the flat on Vallejo Street, Miss Mary Rivas told
-Vincent to come and take the first dinner with her. “We’ll christen
-the new place,” she said gayly, “and, besides, I hope you’ll find
-that I’m really American and can cook.”
-
-That night at nine o’clock when the Mexican maid had departed
-giggling to the kitchen, Vincent’s hostess leaned forward over the
-table at which they sat, and rested her elbows on it. Her bare arms
-framed her face in a sudden way that took Vincent’s heart out of its
-regular beat. He leaped to his feet when Maria Rivas, dropping her
-head, burst into a torrent of sobs, her white shoulders heaving as
-her agony got the better of her.
-
-As he stood there biting his lips she threw back her head and darted
-up and to the window. He heard her moan, as if she saw and heard
-something too awful to comprehend. He walked over and stood back of
-her till she swung round, and he saw the tear-stained face relax and
-the swimming eyes close. He carried her to the table, and laid her
-down across it, and rubbed her hands. Then the maid came in, still
-giggling hysterically, and together they revived her until she sat
-up between Vincent’s arms and slid from the big table to the floor.
-Vincent sent the astonished maid out by a gesture of command.
-
-“Now, what’s the matter?” he demanded, hoarsely. “If you’re in
-trouble tell me.”
-
-She panted before him. “It was what I remembered,” she replied. “How
-can I forget?”
-
-“After I had been five years in the States papa sent for me to meet
-him in Colon. I got off the steamer, and he was waiting on the
-wharf. I knew he would do it just that way. He put on his glasses
-with both hands and looked at me as if he were very glad, and oh! I
-loved it, for it was just like it was when I was a little girl and
-ran into the big room.
-
-“But trouble came in Panama, and papa thought we’d better come up to
-San Francisco. ‘I’ve been so busy down here one way and another,’ he
-said, ‘that I’m always suspected of conspiracy. Your mother is dead,
-and the fun of life is out of it. We will live peaceably as befits
-an old man and his daughter.’”
-
-Vincent’s voice broke in on her story. “When was this?”
-
-“Five years ago. And everything went all right till we got to
-Amapala. There a friend of papa’s came on board and showed me a
-paper. It said papa was not to be allowed to land in Honduras, as he
-was plotting an insurrection. He put on his glasses to read it. When
-he looked up at me, he said: ‘We shan’t see where your mother is
-buried, nor the place where you were born.’ He shook hands with the
-friend, and said nothing more.
-
-“On the day we were at Ocos, in the afternoon, I saw the
-_comandante_ come on the steamer with some soldiers. He said he
-wanted to arrest papa, but that if papa came along willingly he
-would not use force.
-
-“‘I am under the American flag,’ papa said. ‘I know who has done
-this. It would mean my death if I went with you.’ Suddenly I heard a
-shot and then another. I hurried to papa’s room. Outside there were
-two soldiers aiming into it. I saw papa sitting on his camp-stool
-and his two revolvers were in his lap. He was hunting for his
-glasses, but the chain had slipped down. He could not see to shoot.
-One of the soldiers, after a long time, fired his gun again, and
-father suddenly picked up his revolvers, and I cried out again. He
-didn’t shoot, and I know now that he was afraid of hitting me. Then
-he fell. The soldiers fired again and ran away, panting and yelling
-to each other. I went in to papa, and he asked for his glasses,
-sitting up on the floor very weakly. When I found them and gave them
-to him, the blood was running very fast down his breast. He put on
-his glasses with both hands, wrinkling up his forehead in the old
-way, and looked at me very----He looked.... He said, ‘I am glad I
-could see you, little one ... before I go.’ That was all.”
-
-She went to the window and stayed there, immobile, while Vincent
-walked up and down behind her. At last she turned around. “That was
-five years ago. No one has done anything to punish them.”
-
-Vincent, because she was suddenly to him the woman, did what every
-man once in his life will do for one woman: he sacrificed his sense
-of humor. With all seriousness he stiffened up. “It was under my
-flag he was shot down. I’ve served under it. Give me another flag
-for Guatemala and I’ll go down there and those murderers shall die
-against a wall, with your flag flying over their heads, its shadow
-wavering at their feet on the yellow sand.”
-
-Maria Rivas, because she was the Woman in this case, understood
-perfectly. “A revolution?” she said, very quietly. He bent over her
-hand gravely and youthfully. His manner was confident, as if he saw
-very clearly what was to be done and knew how to do it, not as if he
-had promised a girl with tear stains on her cheeks to overturn a
-government because of a murder one afternoon on a steamer in a
-foreign port.
-
-This was the beginning of the affair. Its continuation was in a
-little town on the Guatemalan coast, where Vincent landed with a ton
-of munitions of war, marked “Manufactures of Metal,” and thirty
-ragged soldiers. A month later he had a thousand insurgents and
-twenty tons of munitions, and his blood had drunk in the fever that
-burns up the years in hours. The first thing Vincent did under its
-spell was to march on Ocos and take it. When the town was his and
-the _comandante_ in irons, the young man took out of his pocketbook
-a little list of names, made out in Maria Rivas’s hand. He compared
-this list with the list of prisoners, and ordered out a firing
-squad. Half an hour later the shadow of the flag made by the Woman
-in the Vallejo Street flat wavered over the sand on which lay six
-men in a tangle. Generalissimo Thomas Vincent went out into the sun
-and looked at the last postures of the six, and then out across the
-brimming waters of the Pacific. A mail steamer lay out there in the
-midst of a cluster of canoes, the American flag drooping from her
-staff.
-
-An Irishman in a major’s uniform came out of the cool of the
-barracks and stopped beside Vincent. “Another week ought to see us
-in the capital,” he said slowly. “But I don’t like this business,
-general. These beggars don’t amount to anything. Why did you order
-them shot?”
-
-A barefoot girl of some ten years crept around the corner of the
-sunbaked wall. She picked her way over the sand, darting hot glances
-fearfully at the two officers. Suddenly she stooped over the crooked
-body of one of the motionless ones. She tugged at the sleeve of a
-shirt, and as the face turned slightly upward to her effort, she
-fell to beating on the ground with both hands, and sobbed in the
-heat, dry-eyed.
-
-Vincent strode over to her, and gently picked her up. Her quick sobs
-did not cease as he carried her into the shade, his own face drawn
-and white. He looked over at the major, who stood gnawing on his
-stubby mustache. He did not reply to the question until the major
-repeated it angrily. “It was because ... they deserved it....”
-Vincent stopped, and then went on, almost inaudibly, “God knows why
-I did it, and then there’s ... the----” He stopped once more, for
-the girl’s hard sobs had ceased, and her lithe hand had darted from
-the folds of her scanty gown to the young general’s throat, and the
-major saw him set the burden softly down, and then fall forward, the
-blood pouring around the blade of a knife deep in his throat.
-
-With an oath the major leaped over to him and lifted his head.
-Vincent’s eyes looked clearly into his. Then the wounded man looked
-over at the little girl, poised for flight, a dozen feet away. He
-nodded at her with an air of absolute comprehension, and then died.
-
-
-
-
-THE BLOOD OF A COMRADE
-
-By Neil Gillespie
-
-
-“A short, severe war is less cruel than a long drawn-out fight,”
-said the captain, easily. “Of course it is! Everybody knows it! So
-why do the people at home criticise us, and libel and court-martial
-us because we use every means in our power to prevent further
-rebellion?”
-
-“They ought to be thankful we don’t use Spanish methods,” said
-Wilcox, the junior member of the mess. He was only six weeks out of
-his cadet gray, and a new arrival at Camp Chicobang.
-
-The captain smiled, pleasantly. “No?” he said. “Haven’t we a
-_reconcentrado_ system similar to theirs? Haven’t we a blockade?
-We’re merely taking up affairs where they left them, and following
-Spanish methods in our own way. When this rebellion began, we tried
-to treat the natives as civilized creatures, but, thank heaven,
-we’re learning sense at last.”
-
-The subaltern flushed to the roots of his close-cropped hair. “Do
-you mean to say that any measure, however cruel, is justifiable in
-war?”
-
-“About that,” said the captain, amused at the boy’s interest in a
-subject which was a stale one to the rest of the mess. “This
-business has got to be straightened out, and that’s exactly what you
-and I are here for. War is wrong; therefore it is cruel and
-brutalizing. ‘Benevolent assimilation’ talk is all rot, and as for
-civilized warfare, there’s no such thing. The measures used are
-adopted as circumstances arise, and must be cruel or barbarous, as
-the necessity calls for.”
-
-Wilcox was staring at him, half in horror, half in fascination. “And
-men can talk that way in the twentieth century,” he murmured.
-
-The captain smiled again. “The only way to carry on war with this
-people is to do to them as they first did to us. As long as we spare
-them, they’re going to think we’re weaklings, and grow bolder by
-result. They haven’t any honor; you can’t treat them as white men.
-Their own methods are what they expect, and their own methods are
-the only means by which this fighting will ever be stopped. It may
-involve an awful lot of suffering for non-combatants, but we can’t
-help that. When the people cry out ‘Enough!’ then the insurgents
-will lose their support and the rebellion will be at an end--for a
-while.”
-
-Wilcox was playing nervously with his fork, and biting his lips as
-if to keep back words he would not speak. He was young, and his high
-ideals of the calling he had chosen had made him blind to the hard
-facts with which he was now brought face to face. It was impossible
-to believe that his own countrymen--officers of the United States
-army--could be so cruel, so barbarous. He did not care what the
-captain said; bloody treatment must serve only to alienate this
-struggling people. If the rebellion had once been handled
-differently, what was the cause of this reversion to the savage? Had
-the lust of blood so crazed the white men that they forgot their
-race, their civilization, their upbringing? Wilcox pitied the
-Filipinos; they, at least, were fighting for their liberty.
-
-“By the way,” said the captain, “did any of you fellows hear that
-the general expects to catch Luiz Maha, who killed our policeman
-down at Binaran, and tried to murder the port commander?”
-
-“Been wounded?” asked some one.
-
-“No, but his wife had a baby recently, so he probably won’t move his
-quarters so easily. They’ll shoot him on sight.”
-
-“Well, I hope they see him soon,” said the medico. “He’s made more
-trouble for us than any other _insurrecto_ in that part of the
-island.”
-
-A sudden sound of running feet was heard through the din of the rain
-outside. The door of the mess-hall rasped open, and a dripping
-figure appeared on the threshold.
-
-“The colonel’s compliments to the commanders of K and O Troops, and
-will they please report to him immediately? Outpost No. 2 has been
-cut up by _insurrectos_, and Lieutenant Ellard and men at No. 4 have
-been captured.”
-
-                 *       *       *       *       *
-
-In the blackness of the night before dawn, a long line of men, lying
-flat on the soggy earth, wormed their way through the tall, rank
-grass. On the crest of a steep ascent the leading figures halted
-cautiously, and one by one the men came to a standstill, each with a
-hand on the foot of the man ahead. A light was beginning to streak
-the east when the captain consulted the native guide in a soundless
-colloquy.
-
-“What does he say?” asked Wilcox, the subaltern. He was wallowing in
-the mud like a carabao, and his clothes were coated with dirt.
-
-“The _hacienda_ of the _insurrecto comandante_ is just below us,”
-returned the captain. “They’ll be perfectly unsuspecting, and unless
-they’ve had time to move on, it’s likely we’ll find our men hidden
-there.”
-
-In the gray dawn the Americans drew their lines about the little
-plantation, and lay in an unseen circle a stone’s throw from the
-brown nipa-hut. The subaltern saw a frowsy woman with two naked
-children go into the shack. A tall man in ragged white was putting
-out the wash to dry.
-
-“By the eternal,” whispered the captain, excitedly, “if it isn’t a
-Spaniard! We’ve had rumors that the Gugus were keeping some
-prisoners up here as slaves.”
-
-The tall man glanced toward the jungle and saw a line of blue and
-khaki-clad figures spring into view. His eyes bulged from his head,
-and he stood motionless with amazement. Suddenly, with a shout of
-“Vivan los Americanos! Viva la Libertad!” he dashed forward,
-open-armed. A burly sergeant met him with a knock-out blow on the
-chin, and the Spaniard staggered back, rubbing his face without
-resentment. He understood that silence was demanded.
-
-“Over the hill!” he cried, dancing about with pain and excitement.
-“They’ve just left here with three _Americano_ prisoners. Hurry and
-you will catch them! Hurry, hurry, but take me with you.”
-
-Once more they dashed into the forest. The subaltern, running beside
-the rescued man, noticed that his shirt was stained with blood, and
-the fluttering rags gave glimpses of the raw, flayed skin beneath.
-
-“What does that mean?” he asked in his school-boy Spanish.
-
-The man smiled. Past sorrows were nothing to him now.
-
-“I have been two years a prisoner,” he said. “One receives many
-beatings.”
-
-“Have you never tried to escape?”
-
-“What was the use? My friend tried, but they caught him and cut off
-his head--after roasting his legs.”
-
-Wilcox said nothing, but there was a strained look about his eyes.
-To him the last twenty-four hours had been horribly unreal. Stopping
-only for food and drink, the troop had followed the track of the
-_insurrectos_ deeper and deeper into the hills. He had seen his men
-surprise and shoot down a native in sight of his wife, and as excuse
-the captain had said that the man was a war traitor, a leader of
-insurgents, and a persecutor of _Americanistas_. But Wilcox felt
-sickened. The captain and the men became repulsive to him. They were
-like a lower order of beings to which he refused to be degraded. The
-army was his only outlook, but could he ever be in sympathy with
-such things as he was experiencing every day?
-
-Suddenly a man in the ranks cried out, and the column came to a
-jolting halt. The subaltern looked, and turned pale. By the trunk of
-a moss-grown tree, his arms bound above his head, a rope about his
-half-naked body, stood an American soldier. Across his mouth from
-corner to corner a _bolo_ had slashed, and the bleeding flesh hung
-loosely over the jaw. His head was sunk forward, but he was not dead
-as his captors had intended he should be after a few days’
-lingering.
-
-His “bunkie,” who had first seen the pitiful figure, cut the heavy
-hemp with his bayonet, but the column waited only a moment. A
-hospital corps man was left behind with a detail, and the troop took
-up its march the more cautiously for knowing that it was hot on the
-trail.
-
-The subaltern felt that his nerves were strained to the breaking
-point. Through the throbbing whirl of his brain came a sickening
-thought. If the natives were capable of such a deed as this, how
-would they treat the other two prisoners? Surely they would not dare
-to harm an American officer. His mind refused to comprehend the
-thought of Ellard cold and lifeless. The image of his classmate and
-chum was too fresh, too vividly active to be rendered null. No, the
-natives could not be so cruel, they could not be so inhuman. And yet
-that bound figure by the tree! How slowly the men moved! Why did
-they linger when every minute might mean life or death to the
-prisoners?
-
-The men passed over another spur and dropped into the valley below.
-With every step they moved more cautiously. Tense and alert, the
-subaltern crept onward, braced for he knew not what. He saw the
-captain, crawling on all fours, become entangled in a trailing vine,
-and felt an uncontrollable desire to laugh. It was broad day now,
-and the heat grew stifling in the breathless woods.
-
-A shout and distant laughter echoed across the valley, and the
-captain halted abruptly. After a moment’s consultation, the troop
-divided, and at the head of his creeping file, the subaltern turned
-to the right. Nearer and nearer sounded the native voices, and the
-men knew that they were close to the insurgent camp. For ten
-heartbreaking minutes they wormed their way over the damp, brown
-loam, now and again catching a glimpse of the little clearing, until
-they had made a complete half circle.
-
-Slowly they drew near the edge of the trees, and the subaltern heard
-the sound of hasty digging. A strange look appeared on the set faces
-of the men, but Wilcox did not notice. He wondered what the natives
-were doing, fearing to look for dread of what he might have to see,
-and yet impatient to know if Ellard was alive. He moved his body
-until, dirt-color himself, he could watch unseen.
-
-Thank God! At the opposite end of the clearing stood Ellard, upright
-and unharmed. Before him, in the centre of the field, was a
-rectangular hole like a grave, and the natives were throwing the
-earth clods into it. Evidently they were burying some one who had
-died, but why did they seem amused? Brady was nowhere in sight. Was
-it his body they were burying?
-
-Yelling like an army of blue fiends, the captain’s detachment burst
-into the clearing. Surprised and confused, the _insurrectos_ turned
-to flee, and met the fixed bayonets of the subaltern’s men.
-
-As soon as he could break away, Wilcox ran to one side. Ellard was
-standing as before, still bound hand and foot. His face was half
-averted, but on it the subaltern saw a look of the most intense
-horror and dread. With a cry of dismay, he dashed forward, but a
-naked, brown figure was before him. Twice the shining _kris_ flashed
-in the air as the defenseless prisoner toppled backward. Then,
-dodging the subaltern’s bullet, the native turned and fled. Two
-privates cornered and disarmed him, but before they could put in a
-finishing blow, Wilcox had shouted: “Hold on there! Wait till I
-come!”
-
-“As you have mercy, put me out of this life!” moaned Ellard.
-
-The tall, strong, young athlete of a moment before lay helpless on
-the ground, a bleeding, legless trunk. Sobbing, the subaltern
-dropped to his knees beside his friend, and beat passionately at the
-earth with clenched fists.
-
-“Don’t, don’t!” almost shrieked the wounded man. “I stood here
-powerless to move while they first cut up and then buried Brady
-alive, but I didn’t cry! Kill me, shoot me, have mercy on me for
-Christ’s sake, but don’t cry!”
-
-A hospital sergeant came running, the captain, white with horror, at
-his heels. The fight was over, and a group of men were working at
-the grave.
-
-Wilcox staggered to his feet, a strange curse on his lips. The beads
-of sweat plowed deep courses through the grime on his cheeks.
-Slowly, with infinite deliberation, he reloaded his revolver and
-strode to where the troopers held the _insurrecto_ on the ground. As
-he went, he muttered, like a man searching for some forgotten
-thought, “The measures used are adopted as circumstances arise, and
-must be cruel or barbarous as the necessity calls for ... as the
-necessity calls for....”
-
-Three times he fired into the prostrate body. “One for Brady, one
-for Wright, and one for Ellard!” and then he began to laugh.
-
-
-
-UNDER FLYING HOOFS
-
-By Bertrand W. Sinclair.
-
-
-“Mormon Jack” stretched his generous length in the shade of the
-bed-wagon, thereby disturbing the sonorous slumbers of Johnny
-Layton, who muttered imprecations as he rolled over to make room.
-
-“You blasted Mormon renegade,” he growled.
-
-“Why don’t you go and lie down where you won’t be disturbin’ a
-fellow that has to stand guard to-night?”
-
-“You’re a cantankerous cuss,” Mormon Jack calmly returned. “If I
-wasn’t a stranger in a hostile camp I’d climb your carcass for them
-insultin’ observations. Besides, it aint good for a kid to sleep too
-much. I don’t see how you got the heart to lay here snorin’ like a
-cayuse chokin’ down, when you could be sittin’ up enjoyin’ this here
-beautiful scenery that’s bein’ desecrated with bawlin’ cows and
-buckin’ bronks and greasy, old round-up wagons. You aint got no
-sense of nacheral beauty, Kid. You’re just about as ornery a varmint
-as old man Hartley, what once inhabited this same flat.”
-
-“I’ve heard of him,” answered the now thoroughly awakened Layton.
-“He happened before my time, though. Were you in the country when
-they cleaned him out?”
-
-“You bet I was!” Mormon Jack replied. “I knew him before he came
-over here, and I was here and saw his finish. There was high old
-jinks on this little green bottom that day.”
-
-“So I’ve heard. He wanted to make a sheep-feedin’ ground of the east
-bench, didn’t he? How was it?” Layton propped himself up on his
-elbow to listen.
-
-Mormon Jack settled his head comfortably against a rolled-up bed. He
-rolled a cigarette daintily and inhaled many breaths of smoke before
-replying.
-
-“Old man Hartley was a bone-headed cuss,” he began, at length, “that
-wouldn’t learn better--even by experience. He was like a fool
-buck-sheep that persists in buttin’ everything that gets in his way,
-no matter how much he hurts his head. It aint the sheep’s fault;
-it’s the breed of him, and the way he was raised--and I guess that
-was the trouble with old Hartley.
-
-“I come across him, first time, over in the Hash-Knife country, a
-little while after they quit drivin’ herds up the Long Trail. The
-railway come in, and you could bring a bunch of cattle from the
-Panhandle up there in a week--it took five months on the trail.
-Likewise, the railway brought farmers and pilgrims and woolly-backs
-by the train-load, and turned ’em loose promiscus on the country,
-where they made more trouble with their homestead rights and
-barb-wire fences than all the Injuns that ever run buffalo or lifted
-hair.
-
-“It wasn’t long till there was heaps of trouble on the range. A
-tenderfoot would file on a claim, prove up, and as soon as he got
-his papers a big sheep outfit would own the land--you know how they
-do. Pretty soon the big sheepmen began to fence the water-holes,
-claim or no claim, and hell broke loose. After considerable killin’
-and burnin’ and layin’ for each other, they patched up a peace; the
-sheepmen that didn’t get killed off stayed on the creeks where they
-was settled, and the cow outfits held what was left of the open
-range.
-
-“That was where old Hartley got in his work. He had a bunch of
-sheep, and stay where he belonged he wouldn’t. He’d slip out on good
-grass and fence up a spring or little lake that might be waterin’ a
-thousand head of cattle. If a bunch of cows come in to water, he’d
-sic his dogs on ’em till they’d quit the earth. If a round-up swung
-his way he’d knock down his fence and move out. It was a big country
-and hard to watch, but they caught him once or twice, and drove him
-back where he belonged. They give him all the show in the world to
-be on the square, but he wouldn’t--he wasn’t built that way. He
-swore ‘by God’ that he had as much right to drive his blatin’,
-stinkin’ woolly-backs all over the range as the cowmen had to turn
-their longhorns loose on the country. He was a big, burly,
-noisy-mouthed cuss, with the muscle of a pack-mule and the soul of a
-prairie-dog. He was game, for all his low-down ways, but he went up
-against the cowmen once too often; a round-up headed him north one
-day with his sheep and a camp-wagon, and sent a couple of riders
-along to see that he kept a-goin’. Then they swung around to his
-home ranch and made a bonfire of it, to show the rest of the
-ca-na-na’s that there’d be no monkey business on the Hash-Knife
-range.
-
-“I didn’t see nor hear of him no more till that fall. Then the
-layout I was workin’ for bought a bunch of cattle over here and sent
-me to rep for ’em--same as I’m doin’ now. I was huntin’ for the Big
-Four wagon, which was supposed to be workin’ on the upper part of
-the White Mud, when I struck his trail. Comin’ north along the creek
-one day I turned a bend and come on a fellow talkin’ to a girl. It
-was Stella Hartley. I met her once at a dance on Powder River, and I
-knowed her the minute I laid eyes on her. She was about as nice a
-little girl as ever struck Custer County.
-
-“I rode up and says ‘Howdy’ to her, and then I see it was Bobby
-Collins she was talkin’ to. I knew him, too--one of the whitest boys
-on earth, and the swiftest woddy that ever turned a cow. ‘Hash-Knife
-Bob’ they called him, over in Custer.
-
-“‘M’ son,’ says I, ‘I’m sure glad to see you. But how’d you come to
-stray off into this wilderness?’
-
-“He told me, then, the whole deal, Stella sittin’ on her horse
-tryin’ to smile, though she was nearer cryin’ than anything else;
-she’d been sheddin’ tears pretty considerable, as it was. Away along
-in the winter Stella ’d promised to marry him, but when the old man
-got to hear of it he just tore up the earth and swore he’d rather
-see her dead than married to a cowpuncher. Hash-Knife was for
-tellin’ him to go to the devil and gettin’ married anyway, but
-Stella wouldn’t have it that way. His wife bein’ dead, she was the
-only womankind the old man had, and she couldn’t bear to leave him
-like that. She said to wait awhile and the old man would come
-around. So in the spring Bob goes to the head of Powder River, and
-while he was gone the cow outfits put the run on the old man. When
-Hash-Knife comes back, Stella and the whole Hartley outfit had
-vanished plum off the earth.
-
-“But Hash-Knife Bob was no quitter. He followed ’em up and located
-’em on Milk River. Then he got a job with the Big Four, so’s to be
-near the girl. He had it figured out that when round-up was over
-that fall he’d take up a ranch on Milk River, marry Stella, and
-settle down. But he hadn’t more’n made his plan when old man Hartley
-breaks out in a fresh place.
-
-“As I said before, old Hartley was a bull-headed old bucko. He was
-worse’n that; he was pig-headed and sheep-headed; he had the
-contrary stubbornness of all the no-account animals on God’s green
-earth. You’d ’a’ thought he’d ’a’ taken a tumble to himself after
-livin’ so long in a sagebrush country, and ’specially after bein’
-run out of one part of it. But, no, sir! his way was _the_ way. He
-wasn’t content on Milk River--he wanted a whole blamed county to
-graze over. So he went pokin’ around on the north side, and stumbled
-onto the Crossin’ here. It looked good to him, and without sayin’ a
-word to anybody but his herder--who was a knot-head like himself and
-crazy after Stella--he picks up his traps and sashays in here.
-
-“There was probably seven or eight big cow outfits rangin’ east of
-the White Mud then, and they’d just got through havin’ a scrap with
-the sheep-wranglers, alongside of which the fuss in Custer County
-was about knee-high. Both of ’em had lots of men and money, but the
-advantage was on the cowmen’s side, for their boys was fightin’ for
-their livin’, for outfits they’d been raised with, and the
-sheepherders was in it for coin and because they didn’t know any
-better. Anyway, the sheepmen backed off after awhile and made
-peace--said they’d be good, they’d had enough. The cowmen made the
-White Mud the dead line; there was to be no sheep-camps on the creek
-or east of it. And the cowpunchers rode the high pinnacles to see
-that no sheep crossed the line.
-
-“This here, Hash-Knife explained to me, was the way things stood:
-Hartley was located on the Crossin’ with a bunch of sheep--about
-twenty-five hundred head. He’d built him a cabin, and had likewise
-strung a four-strand barb-wire fence across the coulée that led down
-to the flat. And he was goin’ to stay there, he said. He had a
-squatter’s right, and if he wanted to live there and fence his place
-he’d do it. It was government land, and to hell with the cow
-outfits! He was from Missouri, he was! And up on the bench, about
-six or seven miles back, the Big Four and the Ragged H was swingin’
-up to the Crossin’ with a beef herd apiece, and the wagon-bosses was
-mad, for they’d heard of old man Hartley.
-
-“‘Old “Peek-a-Boo” Johnson’s runnin’ the Big Four,’ Hash-Knife told
-me. ‘I got him to let me ride ahead and see if I couldn’t talk some
-sense into the old man. But it’s no go. He’s got his neck bowed, and
-he’s fool ’nough to try and run a whizzer on Peek-a-Boo’s riders;
-they’ll clean him out if he does. I saw Stella ride off as I was
-comin’ down to the ranch, and when I got through with him I rambled
-down this way and found her. I want her to stay away from the flat
-for two or three hours, till the thing is settled one way or the
-other, but she’s bound to go home. So I guess we’d better be goin’.
-The wagons ought to hit the Crossin’ pretty soon.’
-
-“We went up on the bench. Stella and Hash-Knife and me, and loped
-along toward the Crossin’. Pretty soon we could see the two sets of
-wagons and a bunch of riders headin’ for the creek, the two
-herds--big ones--trailin’ along behind, about a mile apart. At the
-head of the coulée I turned my string loose for the horse-wrangler
-to pick up. With Stella cryin’ and Hash-Knife tryin’ to comfort her,
-we swung down the coulée to the shack.
-
-“When we got there we found the herder had brought the sheep in to
-water. They’d moved back off water and was bedded down, bunched
-close, about half-way between the cabin and the creek. There was
-three of ’em at the cabin; old Hartley, the herder, and a pilgrim
-that’d come out to work on the ranch.
-
-“Old Hartley looked pretty black at us as we rode up, but he didn’t
-have time to say much before the wagons come rollin’ out the mouth
-of the coulée. They was almost at the house before he knowed it.
-Then he ducked into the cabin and come out with a Winchester across
-his arm. The outfit went past without battin’ an eye at him. They
-went round the sheep and started to pitch camp on the creek-bank.
-Then Peek-a-Boo and Tom Jordan, the Ragged H boss, come a-ridin’ up
-to the cabin.
-
-“They was nice and polite about it. They told old Hartley that
-seein’ he was a stranger they thought he’d probably made a mistake
-and got over on the wrong side of the ridge. They didn’t want to
-make any trouble for him, but he’d have to take his sheep off the
-creek. Sorry to bother him, but it was range law.
-
-“‘You can’t bluff _me_,’ says Hartley. ‘This here’s government land.
-I got as much right here as anybody. You dassent run me out.’
-
-“Then old Tom Jordan tells him about the big scrap they’d had with
-the sheepmen, and how they’d agreed to stay the other side of the
-ridge, but the old bonehead kept a-shootin’ off about his rights,
-and how they couldn’t bluff _him_, till Tom got mad and rode off,
-sayin’ that he’d see his blasted sheep was across the ridge by
-sundown.
-
-“Peek-a-Boo stayed talkin’ to him, tryin’ to persuade him to be
-reasonable, and showin’ him how foolish he was to run up against the
-cowmen after they’d fought a dozen big sheep outfits to a standstill
-and whacked up the range fair and square. They talked and talked,
-old Hartley gettin’ more and more on the peck. Neither of ’em
-noticed that the lead of the first herd had strung down the
-coulée--the cowpunchers had done business with the fence. There was
-probably a thousand head of big, rollicky steers bunched on the
-flat, and the rest of the herd was pourin’ out the mouth of the
-draw. Two point-riders was holdin’ ’em up so they wouldn’t scatter.
-
-“Old Hartley saw ’em first. The sight of that big bunch of longhorns
-on what he called his land made him see red, I reckon. He shoved the
-lever of his gun forward and back, clickity-click, and started on a
-run for the bunch, hollerin’ as he went: ‘You can’t drive them
-cattle across my flat! I’ll kill you, by God, if you do!’
-
-“Peek-a-Boo stuck the spurs in his horse, and started after him,
-callin’ to him to keep away from the herd. Hartley kept a-goin’ till
-Peek was about twenty feet from him, then he whirled with his gun to
-his shoulder, and cut loose, bang--bang! and Peek-a-Boo tumbled off
-his horse.
-
-“Things happened then. Stella had started after the old man, but
-Hash-Knife grabbed her and made her stop. When old Hartley dropped
-Peek-a-Boo, Bob says to me: ‘Mormon, take Stella over to camp. I got
-to get Peek out of there. Maybe he aint killed, and them steers’ll
-be a-runnin’ over him in about ten seconds.’
-
-“Hash-Knife had the situation sized up correct. I helped Stella onto
-her horse and started for the wagons. A lot of riders come like hell
-across the flat toward the herd, but they was too late to do any
-good. Just as Hash-Knife picked old Peek-a-Boo up and flopped him
-across his horse, Hartley begin to smoke up the two riders that was
-holdin’ the herd--which was bunched tight, ready to run. But he
-missed first shot, and when he fired the second time they was
-scuddin’ for the tail-end of the herd, layin’ low along the backs of
-their horses. As they run they jerked the slickers off the backs of
-their saddles, swingin’ ’em round their heads, and, yellin’ like
-Gros Ventre braves strikin’ the war-post, they rode into the herd.
-
-“When them cattle surged first one way and then the other, and then
-swept across the flat, tramplin’ old Hartley down like he was a lone
-stalk of bunch-grass stickin’ up out of the prairie, Stella
-screeched and hid her face in her hands. But I watched; it was
-horrible and fascinatin’. You’ve seen the ice gorge in the Big
-Muddy, when it breaks up in the spring; it jams at some narrow place
-and piles up and piles up till the river below is bone dry. Then the
-weight of the water’ll bust the jam and there’ll be a grindin’,
-smashin’ uproar for a minute, and all of a sudden the river is
-flowin’ peaceful again.
-
-“That was the way them cattle did. They passed over old Hartley like
-he was nothin’, and struck that bunch of slumberin’ sheep like a
-breakin’ ice jam. Two thousand strong they was, runnin’ like scared
-antelope, packed shoulder to shoulder, with horns and hoofs
-clatterin’ like a Spanish dancer’s castanets, and the gallopin’
-weight of ’em made the flat tremble. This wise they passed over the
-band of sheep, wipin’ ’em out like the spring floods wipe out the
-snow in the low places, and thunderin’ by the round-up camp hit the
-creek with a rush that knocked it dry for a hundred yards. The lead
-of ’em had hardly got to the level before the riders was turnin’
-’em. In fifteen minutes them cattle was standin’ bunched on the
-flat, puffin’ and blowin’, the big steers starin’ round as if they
-were wonderin’ what had scared ’em. But they’d done the trick. There
-was no sheep left to quarrel over--nary one. It was an Alamo for the
-woolly-backs!
-
-“After we’d found and buried what was left of old man Hartley, we
-moved up the creek to camp. The herder and the pilgrim hit the trail
-for Milk River. Poor little Stella sure felt bad on account of the
-old man, and the boys was all sorry for her. But she had Hash-Knife,
-and Peek-a-Boo--who wasn’t hurt bad enough to make him cash in--said
-he’d brand a hundred calves for her on the spring round-up. So I
-guess she was winner on the deal.
-
-“That’s been eleven years,” Mormon Jack concluded, reminiscently,
-“and I aint been here since. I didn’t make no protracted visit the
-first time, but I want to tell you, m’ son, it was sure excitin’.”
-
-
-
-
-THE COLONEL AND “THE LADY”
-
-By Kathleen Thompson
-
-
-About an hour before sunset, Colonel Jerry rode furiously into the
-post. Her sweating pony was streaked with dust, and the colonel was
-covered with it from head to foot. Except for the rumpled and brief
-little corduroy skirt and bloomers, her clothing was an exact, if
-miniature, copy of her father’s. Her wide felt hat had its
-regulation cord and tassels, there were gauntlets on her small
-hands, and gaiters on her small legs. The sleeve of her boyish skirt
-carried its device, and she wore a cartridge belt, a little pistol,
-and a sword.
-
-She drew her dancing pony sharply up before the group on the porch,
-and saluted severely.
-
-“And just in time, too!” said the major, who was also the colonel’s
-father. He looked at her reproachfully. “We were about to send a
-company out after you! Leave Baby at the side door and go straight
-upstairs. When you’re presentable come down, and I’ll introduce you
-to your Boston uncle and aunt. We’ve been watching for you all
-afternoon. What kept you, you vagabond?”
-
-The colonel, trying to quiet her nervous horse, wheeled about in a
-manner that made her aunt dizzy. She answered, jerkily: “Trouble,
-sir--on the reservation! Whoa, there, pretty! Quiet, girl! It seems
-that--it seems that some of those hogs of Indians got hold--steady,
-old girl!--got hold of a keg of whisky--somewhere--and--Peters
-said--hold still, you fool! You’ll have your oats in a
-minute!--Peters said--that last night--there wasn’t a man in the
-camp that wasn’t drunk! You will have to excuse me, sir! She’s
-pulling my arms out!” And she gave her horse its head.
-
-When the two had flashed around the corner of the house, the major
-smiled, proudly. “What d’ye think of her?” he said, turning to his
-brother-in-law.
-
-“Well, for a nine-year-old,” said Dr. Eyre, slowly, “she is
-certainly a wonder!”
-
-The doctor’s wife, a pretty, precise little woman, looked at her own
-neat little girl, and sighed, profoundly.
-
-“And _this--this_!” she said, plaintively, “is poor Amy’s child!”
-
-The major looked a trifle uncomfortable, but his young aid spoke,
-eagerly: “Every one on the post is proud of the colonel! You see,
-we’ve brought her up here among us, Mrs. Eyre--taught her everything
-she knows! You can’t take in her good points at a glance--but she’s
-as square as any man!”
-
-When the little girl presently joined them, her dark hair had been
-smoothly brushed, her white frock and buckled slippers were
-irreproachable. She gave a cool and impassive little cheek to her
-aunt’s kisses, and then, from her father’s knee, soberly studied her
-kinspeople.
-
-“How like Amy!” said Mrs. Eyre. “You don’t remember poor dear mamma,
-do you, Geraldine?”
-
-“I was two,” said the colonel. The aid choked.
-
-“Yes--yes--of course!” said Mrs. Eyre. “And she has had no training,
-has she, Jim? Do you know, darling, that where aunty and cousin Rose
-live they would think you were a very funny little girl if they
-heard you talk that way?”
-
-“What way, dad?” said the colonel, quickly.
-
-“And to hear you say what you said this afternoon,” pursued her
-aunt, calmly.
-
-“To your horse, she means,” supplemented her father, smiling down at
-her.
-
-“But that horse can act like the Old Harry,” said the colonel,
-musingly.
-
-“Speaking of horses,” her uncle said, a little hurriedly, “you’ve
-never seen mine, have you?”
-
-She gave him an eager smile. “No, sir. You know I’ve never been
-East. But I’ve read about her. I’m very much interested in that
-horse.”
-
-“Well, after dinner, suppose you and I have a look at her?”
-
-“_What!_” The colonel was on her feet; “she’s not _here_!”
-
-“Yes. Came with us to-day. She’s entered for the Towerton Cup.”
-
-The colonel’s pale little face was flushed with excitement.
-
-“You don’t mean The Lady, Uncle Bob? Not the horse that has taken
-all those prizes? Here on _this post_?”
-
-“That’s the very one, colonel,” said the major; “we put her in the
-Ralston stable.”
-
-“The Lady!” said the colonel, dazedly. “The Lady! To think I shall
-see that horse!”
-
-“Aunts and uncles are nothing to horses,” said Mrs. Fitzgerald.
-
-“Well,” said the colonel, “you know every one has aunts and uncles.”
-The aid grew crimson again. “But this is the only racer that I know.
-And you’ve put her in the Ralston stable?”
-
-“For quiet,” her uncle said. “It excites her to be in a stable with
-other horses.”
-
-“And one thing more, colonel,” said her father, firmly; “which you
-may as well understand right _now_. You’re not ever, under any
-circumstances, to mount that horse.”
-
-“All right, sir,” said the colonel, regretfully. “If you say so,
-that goes. But I’d like to try her.”
-
-Her father gave her a sidelong look.
-
-“Now see here, Jerry. The minute I catch you on top of that horse,
-you can go to bed without rations, and you needn’t wear your colors
-for a week after. Understand?”
-
-The colonel nodded. Her face was crimson.
-
-“Hang it, you’re not _my_ superior officer, Jim,” said his brother,
-smiling, “and if I choose to give my niece a ride or so on my own
-horse it strikes me----”
-
-“Ah! that’s a different matter,” agreed the major, “only I didn’t
-want the colonel here to think The Lady was an ordinary riding
-horse.”
-
-The colonel said nothing. She was, at times, an oddly silent child.
-But she smiled at her uncle, and loved him at once.
-
-It was almost sunset. Long, clear-cut shadows fell across the
-clean-swept parade. The watering-cart rumbled to and fro, leaving a
-sweet odor of fresh, wet earth. Lawn-sprinklers began to whirr in
-the gardens of Officers’ Row. Chattering groups went by, the level
-red light flashing on white parasols and brass buttons. All of these
-strollers shouted greetings to the major and the little colonel.
-Some came up, and were duly presented to the major’s guests. Jerry
-sat on the steps, her little dark head against the rail, and
-exchanged banter with a degree of equality that astonished her aunt.
-The child’s heart was full. She was to be, for several days,
-privileged by the sight of the great horse--a week would bring the
-Fourth of July, with its bands and picnic and evening of unclouded
-joys, fireworks, ice-cream, bonfires. Besides this, the old general,
-her especial crony, would arrive in a few days for the holiday.
-
-Dinner was late and long. And the after-dinner cigars were
-interrupted by many reminiscences. By the time the men reached the
-porch again, the colonel’s patience was sorely strained. She sat
-waiting for a long half-hour.
-
-“Uncle Bob,” she began at last, when there was a pause, “are you
-going to see The Lady to-night?”
-
-“By George, that is so,” said her uncle, rousing. “We must have a
-look at the old girl. Come, kids.”
-
-Just then the breeze brought them the bugle notes.
-
-“Too bad!” said the aid.
-
-“Oh, confound it, there’s taps!” said the colonel, tears of vexation
-in her eyes. “You’ll have to go without me.”
-
-And before they realized it, she had said her good-nights and gone
-upstairs.
-
-“H’m!” said her uncle, reflectively.
-
-“She was probably tired and sleepy,” said Mrs. Eyre, gently.
-
-“She’ll be out at that stable at five to-morrow,” said the aid.
-
-And, sure enough, Colonel Jerry appeared at the nine-o’clock
-breakfast the next day radiant from three hours spent in the great
-horse’s stable.
-
-“Well, colonel,” said her uncle, coming in late, “what do you think
-of The Lady?”
-
-The plain little face was transformed by a wide smile.
-
-“Oh, Uncle Bob! I never saw such a horse! Baron let me lead her down
-to water! She’s the most beautiful horse I ever saw!”
-
-“You’ll be disobeying your father,” he said, smiling, “and running
-off some day on The Lady’s back.” She glanced down at her little
-sleeve, where the device of a colonel was exquisitely embroidered.
-
-“We’d do a good deal not to have that taken off our sleeve, wouldn’t
-we?” said her father.
-
-“Most anything,” she answered, with her flashing smile.
-
-Her own little horse was sick, but she and Rose rode the big
-carriage horses every day, and Jerry did her best to entertain this
-rather difficult guest. The two children found enough in common to
-spend the days pleasantly. Rose developed a profound respect for her
-wild little cousin, and Jerry grew to enjoy Rose’s company--even
-though Rose could not obey orders, and held bugle-calls in contempt.
-Both children, as well as all the others on the post, were planning
-for the Fourth of July. All their money went for fireworks, they
-shouted the national songs, they cheered the band that practiced
-nightly before the house.
-
-The third of July broke hot and cloudless. By nine o’clock, the
-piazza rail burned one’s fingers, and as the hours went by the heat
-shut down over the earth like a blanket. A heavy haze hung over the
-meadows, and lines of heat dazzled up from the far, blue mountains.
-Jerry, coming out from an hour’s enforced practice on her violin,
-stretched luxuriously in the heat. The post seemed deserted. The
-heat beat steadily down; there seemed to be no shadow anywhere.
-Locusts hummed loudly. Jerry knew that her father and uncle had gone
-to Hayestown to meet the general. They would be back to a late lunch
-at three. She strolled around to the stable.
-
-Henry, polishing harness, beamed upon her, and wiped his forehead.
-
-“Git me a fur coat an’ build up the fire,” said he, grinning.
-
-“Shame on you!” said the colonel, plunging her bared arms deep into
-the trough. “Say, Henry, do you know if my aunt and cousin went with
-dad and Uncle Bob?”
-
-“Why,” said Henry, with a troubled look, “your aunt and cousin went
-riding! Full an hour ago! Yes, sir, they left about eleven o’clock.
-They says they was going to get back about half-past two.”
-
-“Idiots!” said the colonel, contemptuously. “Riding! A day like
-this! Where’d they go?”
-
-“They says they’d go as far as Holly Hill, colonel, and then have
-their meal at the spring, an’ then go right over Baldy, and home!”
-
-“Crazy! Climbin’ the hill in this heat!” She looked about the clean,
-wide stable. “What horses did you give ’em?”
-
-Henry looked very uncomfortable.
-
-“I thought you knew, colonel. I give your aunt Sixpence--he’s up to
-her weight. But Miss Rose says she was to ride _your_ horse.”
-
-The colonel whirled about, her eyes flashing. “Rose said--_my_
-horse! You don’t mean _Baby_?”
-
-“That’s what she _says_.”
-
-Jerry turned white.
-
-“But--my goodness! Baby’s _sick_! The vet said she wasn’t to be
-ridden!”
-
-“I told Miss Rose I didn’t think the horse was up to it,” said
-Henry, aggrievedly. “I _says_ to ask you.”
-
-“You fool--you!” said the colonel, blazing. She reached for an old
-cap, and snatched a whip.
-
-“Give me any horse!” she commanded, pulling down her own saddle.
-“I’ll follow them! They’ll be at the spring. I’ll bring them home
-through the woods.”
-
-“Why, there you are, colonel! There aint a horse on this place. It
-was so hot yesterday that we turned them all out. They’re two miles
-away, in long meadow. You can’t get a horse on this post.”
-
-Baffled, the child dropped the saddle. She leaned against the
-door-post, her swimming eyes looking across the baking earth. “It’ll
-kill Baby, Henry,” she whispered, with trembling lips.
-
-No one was about. Above the Ralston stable some little boys had made
-a fire in the shade. Jerry clinched her hands in agony above her
-heart. Then she picked up her saddle, and went resolutely along the
-path.
-
-“Where are you going, colonel, dear?” called Henry.
-
-She did not answer.
-
-“Oh--Baby! Baby!” she was sobbing as she ran; “I can’t let them kill
-you! I’ve _got_ to disobey orders!”
-
-The carriage, with the three men in it, was met by the news. A mile
-from the post a little boy shouted that the Ralston stable, with the
-wonderful mare inside, was burned to the ground. The old general,
-bouncing out uncomfortably, kept up a running fire of sympathetic
-ejaculation. The major, urging on the big grays, freely used his
-strongest language. But his brother did not speak.
-
-Sweating, dust-covered, panting, the horses tore past Officers’ Row,
-and stopped at the ruins of what had been the stable. A few fallen
-beams still smoked sullenly, the sickening odor of wet wood filled
-the air. A group of men and boys in their shirt-sleeves stood near.
-At the sound of the wheels, Baron, his face streaked with soot and
-perspiration, came toward them. “I was off duty, sir!” he said,
-hoarsely. “I was getting my dinner. We done all we could! We had the
-hose here in ten minutes, but the fire was too big.”
-
-His master nodded. After a moment he asked: “She was loose?”
-
-“Yes, sir. She must have suffocated. She didn’t struggle----”
-
-“No? Well, I’m glad--of that.” Her owner walked about the ruins. The
-other men were silent. Finally the major said: “I can’t tell you,
-old man, how sorry I am!”
-
-“Well, no help for it, Jim. I know you are! Go clean up, Baron, then
-come talk to me. Shall we go up to the house?”
-
-On the way, he said, sombrely: “I wouldn’t have taken any money for
-that mare!”
-
-Just at this moment the mare came into the yard, with the weary
-little colonel astride her. The Lady was tired, her satin flanks
-were flecked with white, but she knew her master, and whinnied as
-she came up to him. At the sound, he turned as if shot, and a moment
-later a shout from both men cut short the colonel’s stammered
-remarks. Her father lifted her down.
-
-“It takes the colonel, every time!” said he. “What lucky star made
-you--this particular afternoon!--well, she’s saved your horse for
-you, Bob.”
-
-“We’ll have to promote you,” said the general, to whom the tired
-child was clinging.
-
-Her uncle, turning for the first time from the horse, spoke,
-solemnly: “You saved her, didn’t you? I won’t forget this! You’ll
-have the finest Spanish saddle that can be made, for this!”
-
-“You can go right on breaking rules at this rate!” said her father,
-his arm about her. “And now run up and get dressed. You can tell us
-about it later.”
-
-“I’ll go up, too,” said the general.
-
-“Go right ahead, sir. We’ll go to the stable for a few minutes and
-make fresh arrangements for The Lady.”
-
-                 *       *       *       *       *
-
-When they at last went out to the long-delayed dinner, the high back
-chair at the foot of the table found no occupant.
-
-“Late, as usual,” said the major. “Lena,” he added, “go and tell the
-colonel that dinner is ready.”
-
-“Oh, if you please, major, she’s gone to bed. She come upstairs more
-than an hour ago. She took her bath, sir, and went right to bed. I
-ast her did she feel sick, and she says no, but that them was your
-orders. She wouldn’t let Nora bring her up no tea.” Lena looked
-reproachful.
-
-“And she cried awfully,” said Rose.
-
-“She never let a tear out of her until I shut the door, Miss Rose,”
-said Lena, firmly; “and she ast me to put out a dress with a plain
-sleeve for to-morrow. She shut the windows down so’s she shouldn’t
-hear the band, but she never cried none.”
-
-The aid winced. The general cleared his throat.
-
-“Well, she’s your child, Fitzgerald. But I think I’ll issue a few
-orders in this matter myself.”
-
-“You’re my superior officer, sir,” said the major, eagerly.
-
-
-
-
-NOTES
-
-
-Some weeks after the story, “Ten Thousand Years in Ice,” on page
-127, was printed in the _Argonaut_, there arrived at the editorial
-rooms one morning quite a large bundle of letters bearing Hungarian
-postage-stamps. On opening them, we found them to be in various
-languages. One of them was in very queer English; this we reproduce
-verbatim:
-
-[_Original._]
-
-Aradi Szechenyi-Gozmalomarader
-Szechenyi-Dampfmuhl-Reszveny-Tarsasag Actien-Gesellschaft.
-
-Arad (Hungary), feb. 25.
-
-To the Editor of the Argonaut, San Francisko: Before a short time I
-red an article from Dr. Milne translating in the _Pester Lloyd_
-newspaper which was very interesting.
-
-The editor of this newspaper told me that this essay was formerly
-edited by you, an I am so free to ask you:
-
-Is it very what Dr. Millene wrote from the “Men which is frozen
-10,000 years ago in the ice,” and beg to accept my salutations. I am
-thankful.
-
-Yours very truly, J. Kleinsson.
-
-Arad (Hungary), Minorite palace, II etage, door 17.
-
-The next letter contained an inclosure, and was couched as follows:
-
-[_Original._]
-
-Reviewer, office of the “Argonaut,” San Francisco--_Dear Sir_: I
-take the liberty to beg you, will you be so kind to deliver the
-enclosed letter to the autor of the article: “Ten thousand years in
-the ice” (published in your newpaper of the 14 january) Sir Robert
-Dunkan Milne.
-
-I thank you, sir, for your kindness and I shall be happy to render
-you a reciprocal service.
-
-Yours, Sigmonde Barany.
-
-Zombor (Hungary) the 23 february.
-
-[_Inclosure._]
-
-Zombor (Hungary), 23 february.
-
-Sir Robert Dunkan Milne, Esqr., San Francisco--_Dear Sir_: I read
-your article: “Ten thousand years in the ice” in the _Argonaut_ of
-the 14 january, and while it has made the greatest sensation in our
-country I take the liberty to beg you, will you be so kind, to
-answer me, what is the truth of this matter?
-
-I shall be happy, sir, when you will honor me with an answer, and
-thanking for your kindness, I’m your very obliged
-
-Sigmonde Barany.
-
-The next letter showed that his Austro-Hungarian majesty’s officers
-have literary taste. It read thus:
-
-[_Original._]
-
-Kronstadt (Transylvania, Austria), 20th February.
-
-To the Argonaut, belletrist. newspaper, San Francisco, California: I
-should feel very much obliged to you, if you were kind enough to
-give me some accounts about the _truth and fact_ of the most
-interesting tale, which contained the last number of your excellent
-paper (dated from the 14th of January)--“_ten thousand years in
-ice_,” by Sir Robert Dunkan Milne. Looking forward to your kind
-answer,
-
-I am yours thankfully,
-
-A. Kyd, lieutenant in the 2d regmt of the Hussars.
-
-The next letter is signed by one of a family whose name is famous in
-Austria:
-
-[_Original._]
-
-To the Editor of the “Argonaute,” periodical, San Francisco,
-California, U. S. (Esrakamerika)--_Sir_: I had the pleasure to read
-the article: “Ten thousand years in the ice,” by Sir Robert Duncan
-Milne (which appeared in the _Argonaut_ of January 14th), in the
-_Pester Lloyd_, and in answer to a question regarding this article,
-the editor of the _Pester Lloyd_ advised me to write to you, sir, as
-you would be surely able to answer the following question:
-
-Is the article: “Ten thousand years in the ice,” based on mere
-fiction, or is he partially true? I am rather inclined to think that
-there is some truth in the article, because Sir Robert Duncan Milne
-in speaking of himself and his friend calls him by his real name.
-
-You would very much oblige me, by being so good as to answer my
-question, or in case that you should neither be able to do this, by
-forwarding my letter to Sir Robert Duncan Milne.
-
-Apologizing for the trouble I may give you by this request, I am
-sir,
-
-Yours very obediently,
-
-Richard Lichtenstein.
-
-February 24th. 26, Andrassy street, Budapest (Hungary).
-
-The next letter was in German. It bore a lithographed heading
-showing that the writer dated it from a large foundry. The letter
-ran:
-
-[_Translation._]
-
-Maschinenfabrik, Eisen-und Metallgiesseri.
-
-Fuenfkirchen, Hungary, 23 Feb.
-
-To the Esteemed Editorial Department of the Journal of Polite
-Literature, “Argonaut,” at San Francisco: In your valued paper, and
-namely in the number of the fourteenth of last month, you published
-an article by Sir Robert Duncan Milne, “Ten thousand years in ice.”
-
-If the honored editorial department does not consider it
-troublesome, I would allow myself a question, the kind answer to
-which I beg, what portion is true in this most interesting story?
-
-Hoping you will appreciate the respect in which I sign myself, Your
-most humble, P. Haberenyi.
-
-Another German letter was as follows:
-
-[_Translation._]
-
-Budapesth, 23 Feb.
-
-Esteemed Editorial Department of the “Argonaut,” Journal of Polite
-Literature, San Francisco, Cal.: In the _Pester Lloyd_ of this city
-was published a story “Ten thousand years in ice.” Since I have not
-the pleasure of knowing the author of the English original, “Sir
-Robert Duncan Milne,” he who alone could give a definite answer as
-to what is true in this story; and since the original of this most
-interesting story has been published in the journal _Argonaut_,
-therefore, I hope that the honored Editorial Department will
-certainly be willing to send to Sir Milne the above-mentioned
-inquiry, so that, if possible, something more about the particulars
-of it may be learned.
-
-Rendering you herewith my best thanks for your trouble, I sign Most
-humbly, M. Fisher.
-
-Address: Dolf Harsanyi, Budapest.
-
-The next letter, also in German, came from a lawyer. It read thus:
-
-[_Translation._]
-
-Ugyved Dr. Rusznyak Samu, Advocat,
-Budapest, V, Nagy Korona-Utcza, 5. 22nd of February.
-
-An die lobliche Redaction des Argonaut:
-
-Esteemed Editorial Department--In the _Pester Lloyd_, a paper
-appearing in Budapest, was reproduced under the title “Ten Thousand
-Years in Ice,” a highly interesting story, which was published in
-your very valued paper _in the number of the 14th of January_.
-
-The author of the English original published in the _Argonaut_ is
-_Sir Robert Duncan Milne_.
-
-The above-mentioned story stirred up a great and general interest
-here, so that very many readers turned to the editorial department
-of the _Pester Lloyd_ with the question, how much of the story was
-true? Said editorial department not being able to answer the
-question, referred the inquiries to the esteemed editorial
-department of the _Argonaut_.
-
-I permit myself, therefore, to make to your esteemed editorial
-department the humble request, and indeed in my own, as well as in
-the name of several friends, to be so kind as to state what was true
-in the above-mentioned story?
-
-At the same time I request that you may make known to me the
-subscription price of your valued paper.
-
-Since I can not furnish myself with postage stamps of the United
-States in Budapest, I request that you send me your kind answer
-without prepaying same.
-
-Recommending my request to your favor, I sign
-
-Most respectfully, Dr. Samuel Rusznyak.
-
-After a lapse of a few days we received another batch of letters,
-two of which explained the epistolary avalanche. One of them was
-from the editor of the _Pester Lloyd_, stating that he had printed a
-translation of the story in his journal and had been overwhelmed
-with inquiries as to whether it was fact or fiction. Another letter
-was from Mme. Fanny Steinitz, a literary lady living in Buda-Pesth,
-who confessed that she was the cause of the outburst, as she had
-translated the story. In order to heighten the interest she had
-elevated the writer, Mr. Milne, to the order of knighthood by giving
-him an accolade with her pen.
-
-How naïve and ingenuous must be the Hungarian nature! Fancy a number
-of serious American business men writing to an American journal
-concerning an exciting story like that of Mr. Milne.
-
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