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diff --git a/old/7mnwm10.txt b/old/7mnwm10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b4c5fc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7mnwm10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6554 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Men, Women, and Boats, by Stephen Crane +#5 in our series by Stephen Crane + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Men, Women, and Boats + +Author: Stephen Crane + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7239] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 30, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN, WOMEN, AND BOATS *** + + + + +Produced by John Bilderback, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +MEN, WOMEN, AND BOATS + +By Stephen Crane + +Edited With an Introduction by Vincent Starrett + + + + +NOTE + +A Number of the tales and sketches here brought together appear now for +the first time between covers; others for the first time between covers +in this country. All have been gathered from out-of-print volumes and +old magazine files. + +"The Open Boat," one of Stephen Crane's finest stories, is used with the +courteous permission of Doubleday, Page & Co., holders of the copyright. +Its companion masterpiece, "The Blue Hotel," because of copyright +complications, has had to be omitted, greatly to the regret of the +editor. + +After the death of Stephen Crane, a haphazard and undiscriminating +gathering of his earlier tales and sketches appeared in London under the +misleading title, "Last Words." From this volume, now rarely met with, a +number of characteristic minor works have been selected, and these will +be new to Crane's American admirers; as follows: "The Reluctant +Voyagers," "The End of the Battle," "The Upturned Face," "An Episode of +War," "A Desertion," "Four Men in a Cave," "The Mesmeric Mountain," +"London Impressions," "The Snake." + +Three of our present collection, printed by arrangement, appeared in the +London (1898) edition of "The Open Boat and Other Stories," published by +William Heinemann, but did not occur in the American volume of that +title. They are "An Experiment in Misery," "The Duel that was not +Fought," and "The Pace of Youth." + +For the rest, "A Dark Brown Dog," "A Tent in Agony," and "The Scotch +Express," are here printed for the first time in a book. + +For the general title of the present collection, the editor alone is +responsible. + +V. S. + + + +MEN, WOMEN AND BOATS + +CONTENTS + +STEPHEN CRANE: _An Estimate_ + +THE OPEN BOAT + +THE RELUCTANT VOYAGERS + +THE END OF THE BATTLE + +THE UPTURNED FACE + +AN EPISODE OF WAR + +AN EXPERIMENT IN MISERY + +THE DUEL THAT WAS NOT FOUGHT + +A DESERTION + +THE DARK-BROWN DOG + +THE PACE OF YOUTH + +SULLIVAN COUNTY SKETCHES + + A TENT IN AGONY + + FOUR MEN IN A CAVE + + THE MESMERIC MOUNTAIN + +THE SNAKE + +LONDON IMPRESSIONS + +THE SCOTCH EXPRESS + + + + +STEPHEN CRANE: _AN ESTIMATE_ + + +It hardly profits us to conjecture what Stephen Crane might have written +about the World War had he lived. Certainly, he would have been in it, +in one capacity or another. No man had a greater talent for war and +personal adventure, nor a finer art in describing it. Few writers of +recent times could so well describe the poetry of motion as manifested +in the surge and flow of battle, or so well depict the isolated deed of +heroism in its stark simplicity and terror. + +To such an undertaking as Henri Barbusse's "Under Fire," that powerful, +brutal book, Crane would have brought an analytical genius almost +clairvoyant. He possessed an uncanny vision; a descriptive ability +photographic in its clarity and its care for minutiae--yet +unphotographic in that the big central thing often is omitted, to be +felt rather than seen in the occult suggestion of detail. Crane would +have seen and depicted the grisly horror of it all, as did Barbusse, but +also he would have seen the glory and the ecstasy and the wonder of it, +and over that his poetry would have been spread. + +While Stephen Crane was an excellent psychologist, he was also a true +poet. Frequently his prose was finer poetry than his deliberate essays +in poesy. His most famous book, "The Red Badge of Courage," is +essentially a psychological study, a delicate clinical dissection of the +soul of a recruit, but it is also a _tour de force_ of the +imagination. When he wrote the book he had never seen a battle: he had +to place himself in the situation of another. Years later, when he came +out of the Greco-Turkish _fracas_, he remarked to a friend: "'The +Red Badge' is all right." + +Written by a youth who had scarcely passed his majority, this book has +been compared with Tolstoy's "Sebastopol" and Zola's "La Debacle," and +with some of the short stories of Ambrose Bierce. The comparison with +Bierce's work is legitimate; with the other books, I think, less so. +Tolstoy and Zola see none of the traditional beauty of battle; they +apply themselves to a devoted--almost obscene--study of corpses and +carnage generally; and they lack the American's instinct for the rowdy +commonplace, the natural, the irreverent, which so materially aids his +realism. In "The Red Badge of Courage" invariably the tone is kept down +where one expects a height: the most heroic deeds are accomplished with +studied awkwardness. + +Crane was an obscure free-lance when he wrote this book. The effort, he +says, somewhere, "was born of pain--despair, almost." It was a better +piece of work, however, for that very reason, as Crane knew. It is far +from flawless. It has been remarked that it bristles with as many +grammatical errors as with bayonets; but it is a big canvas, and I am +certain that many of Crane's deviations from the rules of polite +rhetoric were deliberate experiments, looking to effect--effect which, +frequently, he gained. + +Stephen Crane "arrived" with this book. There are, of course, many who +never have heard of him, to this day, but there was a time when he was +very much talked of. That was in the middle nineties, following +publication of "The Red Badge of Courage," although even before that he +had occasioned a brief flurry with his weird collection of poems called +"The Black Riders and Other Lines." He was highly praised, and highly +abused and laughed at; but he seemed to be "made." We have largely +forgotten since. It is a way we have. + +Personally, I prefer his short stories to his novels and his poems; +those, for instance, contained in "The Open Boat," in "Wounds in the +Rain," and in "The Monster." The title-story in that first collection is +perhaps his finest piece of work. Yet what is it? A truthful record of +an adventure of his own in the filibustering days that preceded our war +with Spain; the faithful narrative of the voyage of an open boat, manned +by a handful of shipwrecked men. But Captain Bligh's account of +_his_ small boat journey, after he had been sent adrift by the +mutineers of the _Bounty_, seems tame in comparison, although of +the two the English sailor's voyage was the more perilous. + +In "The Open Boat" Crane again gains his effects by keeping down the +tone where another writer might have attempted "fine writing" and have +been lost. In it perhaps is most strikingly evident the poetic cadences +of his prose: its rhythmic, monotonous flow is the flow of the gray +water that laps at the sides of the boat, that rises and recedes in +cruel waves, "like little pointed rocks." It is a desolate picture, and +the tale is one of our greatest short stories. In the other tales that +go to make up the volume are wild, exotic glimpses of Latin-America. I +doubt whether the color and spirit of that region have been better +rendered than in Stephen Crane's curious, distorted, staccato sentences. + +"War Stories" is the laconic sub-title of "Wounds in the Rain." It was +not war on a grand scale that Crane saw in the Spanish-American +complication, in which he participated as a war correspondent; no such +war as the recent horror. But the occasions for personal heroism were no +fewer than always, and the opportunities for the exercise of such powers +of trained and appreciative understanding and sympathy as Crane +possessed, were abundant. For the most part, these tales are episodic, +reports of isolated instances--the profanely humorous experiences of +correspondents, the magnificent courage of signalmen under fire, the +forgotten adventure of a converted yacht--but all are instinct with the +red fever of war, and are backgrounded with the choking smoke of battle. +Never again did Crane attempt the large canvas of "The Red Badge of +Courage." Before he had seen war, he imagined its immensity and painted +it with the fury and fidelity of a Verestchagin; when he was its +familiar, he singled out its minor, crimson passages for briefer but no +less careful delineation. + +In this book, again, his sense of the poetry of motion is vividly +evident. We see men going into action, wave on wave, or in scattering +charges; we hear the clink of their accoutrements and their breath +whistling through their teeth. They are not men going into action at +all, but men going about their business, which at the moment happens to +be the capture of a trench. They are neither heroes nor cowards. Their +faces reflect no particular emotion save, perhaps, a desire to get +somewhere. They are a line of men running for a train, or following a +fire engine, or charging a trench. It is a relentless picture, ever +changing, ever the same. But it contains poetry, too, in rich, memorable +passages. + +In "The Monster and Other Stories," there is a tale called "The Blue +Hotel". A Swede, its central figure, toward the end manages to get +himself murdered. Crane's description of it is just as casual as that. +The story fills a dozen pages of the book; but the social injustice of +the whole world is hinted in that space; the upside-downness of +creation, right prostrate, wrong triumphant,--a mad, crazy world. The +incident of the murdered Swede is just part of the backwash of it all, +but it is an illuminating fragment. The Swede was slain, not by the +gambler whose knife pierced his thick hide: he was the victim of a +condition for which he was no more to blame than the man who stabbed +him. Stephen Crane thus speaks through the lips of one of the +characters:-- + + "We are all in it! This poor gambler isn't even + a noun. He is a kind of an adverb. Every sin is + the result of a collaboration. We, five of us, have + collaborated in the murder of this Swede. Usually + there are from a dozen to forty women really involved + in every murder, but in this case it seems + to be only five men--you, I, Johnnie, Old Scully, + and that fool of an unfortunate gambler came + merely as a culmination, the apex of a human movement, + and gets all the punishment." + +And then this typical and arresting piece of irony:-- + + "The corpse of the Swede, alone in the saloon, + had its eyes fixed upon a dreadful legend that + dwelt atop of the cash-machine: 'This registers the + amount of your purchase.'" + +In "The Monster," the ignorance, prejudice and cruelty of an entire +community are sharply focussed. The realism is painful; one blushes for +mankind. But while this story really belongs in the volume called +"Whilomville Stories," it is properly left out of that series. The +Whilomville stories are pure comedy, and "The Monster" is a hideous +tragedy. + +Whilomville is any obscure little village one may happen to think of. To +write of it with such sympathy and understanding, Crane must have done +some remarkable listening in Boyville. The truth is, of course, he was a +boy himself--"a wonderful boy," somebody called him--and was possessed +of the boy mind. These tales are chiefly funny because they are so true +--boy stories written for adults; a child, I suppose, would find them +dull. In none of his tales is his curious understanding of human moods +and emotions better shown. + +A stupid critic once pointed out that Crane, in his search for striking +effects, had been led into "frequent neglect of the time-hallowed rights +of certain words," and that in his pursuit of color he "falls +occasionally into almost ludicrous mishap." The smug pedantry of the +quoted lines is sufficient answer to the charges, but in support of +these assertions the critic quoted certain passages and phrases. He +objected to cheeks "scarred" by tears, to "dauntless" statues, and to +"terror-stricken" wagons. The very touches of poetic impressionism that +largely make for Crane's greatness, are cited to prove him an ignoramus. +There is the finest of poetic imagery in the suggestions subtly conveyed +by Crane's tricky adjectives, the use of which was as deliberate with +him as his choice of a subject. But Crane was an imagist before our +modern imagists were known. + +This unconventional use of adjectives is marked in the Whilomville +tales. In one of them Crane refers to the "solemn odor of burning +turnips." It is the most nearly perfect characterization of burning +turnips conceivable: can anyone improve upon that "solemn odor"? + +Stephen Crane's first venture was "Maggie: A Girl of the Streets." It +was, I believe, the first hint of naturalism in American letters. It was +not a best-seller; it offers no solution of life; it is an episodic bit +of slum fiction, ending with the tragic finality of a Greek drama. It +is a skeleton of a novel rather than a novel, but it is a powerful +outline, written about a life Crane had learned to know as a newspaper +reporter in New York. It is a singularly fine piece of analysis, or a +bit of extraordinarily faithful reporting, as one may prefer; but not a +few French and Russian writers have failed to accomplish in two volumes +what Crane achieved in two hundred pages. In the same category is +"George's Mother," a triumph of inconsequential detail piling up with a +cumulative effect quite overwhelming. + +Crane published two volumes of poetry--"The Black Riders" and "War is +Kind." Their appearance in print was jeeringly hailed; yet Crane was +only pioneering in the free verse that is today, if not definitely +accepted, at least more than tolerated. I like the following love poem +as well as any rhymed and conventionally metrical ballad that I know:-- + + "Should the wide world roll away, + Leaving black terror, + Limitless night, + Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand + Would be to me essential, + If thou and thy white arms were there + And the fall to doom a long way." + +"If war be kind," wrote a clever reviewer, when the second volume +appeared, "then Crane's verse may be poetry, Beardsley's black and white +creations may be art, and this may be called a book";--a smart summing +up that is cherished by cataloguers to this day, in describing the +volume for collectors. Beardsley needs no defenders, and it is fairly +certain that the clever reviewer had not read the book, for certainly +Crane had no illusions about the kindness of war. The title-poem of the +volume is an amazingly beautiful satire which answers all criticism. + + "Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. + Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky + And the affrighted steed ran on alone, + Do not weep. + War is kind. + + "Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, + Little souls who thirst for fight, + These men were born to drill and die. + The unexplained glory flies above them, + Great is the battle-god, and his kingdom-- + A field where a thousand corpses lie. + + * * * * * + + "Mother whose heart hung humble as a button + On the bright splendid shroud of your son, + Do not weep. + War is kind." + +Poor Stephen Crane! Like most geniuses, he had his weaknesses and his +failings; like many, if not most, geniuses, he was ill. He died of +tuberculosis, tragically young. But what a comrade he must have been, +with his extraordinary vision, his keen, sardonic comment, his +fearlessness and his failings! + +Just a glimpse of Crane's last days is afforded by a letter written from +England by Robert Barr, his friend--Robert Barr, who collaborated with +Crane in "The 0' Ruddy," a rollicking tale of old Ireland, or, rather, +who completed it at Crane's death, to satisfy his friend's earnest +request. The letter is dated from Hillhead, Woldingham, Surrey, June 8, +1900, and runs as follows:-- + + "My Dear ---- + + "I was delighted to hear from you, and was much + interested to see the article on Stephen Crane you + sent me. It seems to me the harsh judgment of an + unappreciative, commonplace person on a man of + genius. Stephen had many qualities which lent + themselves to misapprehension, but at the core he + was the finest of men, generous to a fault, with + something of the old-time recklessness which used + to gather in the ancient literary taverns of London. + I always fancied that Edgar Allan Poe revisited the + earth as Stephen Crane, trying again, succeeding + again, failing again, and dying ten years sooner + than he did on the other occasion of his stay on + earth. + + "When your letter came I had just returned from + Dover, where I stayed four days to see Crane off + for the Black Forest. There was a thin thread of + hope that he might recover, but to me he looked like + a man already dead. When he spoke, or, rather, + whispered, there was all the accustomed humor in + his sayings. I said to him that I would go over to + the Schwarzwald in a few weeks, when he was getting + better, and that we would take some convalescent + rambles together. As his wife was listening + he said faintly: 'I'll look forward to that,' but he + smiled at me, and winked slowly, as much as to say: + 'You damned humbug, you know I'll take no more + rambles in this world.' Then, as if the train of + thought suggested what was looked on before as the + crisis of his illness, he murmured: 'Robert, when + you come to the hedge--that we must all go over-- + it isn't bad. You feel sleepy--and--you don't + care. Just a little dreamy curiosity--which world + you're really in--that's all.' + + "To-morrow, Saturday, the 9th, I go again to + Dover to meet his body. He will rest for a little + while in England, a country that was always good + to him, then to America, and his journey will be + ended. + + "I've got the unfinished manuscript of his last + novel here beside me, a rollicking Irish tale, different + from anything he ever wrote before. Stephen + thought I was the only person who could finish it, + and he was too ill for me to refuse. I don't know + what to do about the matter, for I never could work + up another man's ideas. Even your vivid imagination + could hardly conjecture anything more ghastly + than the dying man, lying by an open window overlooking + the English channel, relating in a sepulchral + whisper the comic situations of his humorous hero + so that I might take up the thread of his story. + + "From the window beside which I write this I + can see down in the valley Ravensbrook House, + where Crane used to live and where Harold Frederic, + he and I spent many a merry night together. When + the Romans occupied Britain, some of their legions, + parched with thirst, were wandering about these dry + hills with the chance of finding water or perishing. + They watched the ravens, and so came to the stream + which rises under my place and flows past Stephen's + former home; hence the name, Ravensbrook. + + "It seems a strange coincidence that the greatest + modern writer on war should set himself down + where the greatest ancient warrior, Caesar, probably + stopped to quench his thirst. + + "Stephen died at three in the morning, the same + sinister hour which carried away our friend Frederic + nineteen months before. At midnight, in Crane's + fourteenth-century house in Sussex, we two tried + to lure back the ghost of Frederic into that house of + ghosts, and to our company, thinking that if reappearing + were ever possible so strenuous a man as + Harold would somehow shoulder his way past the + guards, but he made no sign. I wonder if the less + insistent Stephen will suggest some ingenious method + by which the two can pass the barrier. I can imagine + Harold cursing on the other side, and welcoming + the more subtle assistance of his finely fibred + friend. + + "I feel like the last of the Three Musketeers, the + other two gone down in their duel with Death. I + am wondering if, within the next two years, I also + shall get the challenge. If so, I shall go to the competing + ground the more cheerfully that two such + good fellows await the outcome on the other side. + + "Ever your friend, + + "ROBERT BARR." + +The last of the Three Musketeers is gone, now, although he outlived his +friends by some years. Robert Barr died in 1912. Perhaps they are still +debating a joint return. + +There could be, perhaps, no better close for a paper on Stephen Crane +than the subjoined paragraph from a letter written by him to a Rochester +editor:-- + + "The one thing that deeply pleases me is the + fact that men of sense invariably believe me to be + sincere. I know that my work does not amount to + a string of dried beans--I always calmly admit it--but + I also know that I do the best that is in me + without regard to praise or blame. When I was + the mark for every humorist in the country, I went + ahead; and now when I am the mark for only fifty + per cent of the humorists of the country, I go + ahead; for I understand that a man is born into the + world with his own pair of eyes, and he is not at all + responsible for his vision--he is merely responsible + for his quality of personal honesty. To keep + close to this personal honesty is my supreme ambition." + +VINCENT STARRETT. + + + + +THE OPEN BOAT + +A Tale intended to be after the fact. Being the experience of four men +from the sunk steamer "Commodore" + + +I + +None of them knew the color of the sky. Their eyes glanced level, and +were fastened upon the waves that swept toward them. These waves were of +the hue of slate, save for the tops, which were of foaming white, and +all of the men knew the colors of the sea. The horizon narrowed and +widened, and dipped and rose, and at all times its edge was jagged with +waves that seemed thrust up in points like rocks. Many a man ought to +have a bath-tub larger than the boat which here rode upon the sea. These +waves were most wrongfully and barbarously abrupt and tall, and each +froth-top was a problem in small-boat navigation. + +The cook squatted in the bottom and looked with both eyes at the six +inches of gunwale which separated him from the ocean. His sleeves were +rolled over his fat forearms, and the two flaps of his unbuttoned vest +dangled as he bent to bail out the boat. Often he said: "Gawd! That was +a narrow clip." As he remarked it he invariably gazed eastward over the +broken sea. + +The oiler, steering with one of the two oars in the boat, sometimes +raised himself suddenly to keep clear of water that swirled in over the +stern. It was a thin little oar and it seemed often ready to snap. + +The correspondent, pulling at the other oar, watched the waves and +wondered why he was there. + +The injured captain, lying in the bow, was at this time buried in that +profound dejection and indifference which comes, temporarily at least, +to even the bravest and most enduring when, willy nilly, the firm fails, +the army loses, the ship goes down. The mind of the master of a vessel +is rooted deep in the timbers of her, though he commanded for a day or a +decade, and this captain had on him the stern impression of a scene in +the greys of dawn of seven turned faces, and later a stump of a top-mast +with a white ball on it that slashed to and fro at the waves, went low +and lower, and down. Thereafter there was something strange in his +voice. Although steady, it was, deep with mourning, and of a quality +beyond oration or tears. + +"Keep 'er a little more south, Billie," said he. + +"'A little more south,' sir," said the oiler in the stern. + +A seat in this boat was not unlike a seat upon a bucking broncho, and by +the same token, a broncho is not much smaller. The craft pranced and +reared, and plunged like an animal. As each wave came, and she rose for +it, she seemed like a horse making at a fence outrageously high. The +manner of her scramble over these walls of water is a mystic thing, and, +moreover, at the top of them were ordinarily these problems in white +water, the foam racing down from the summit of each wave, requiring a +new leap, and a leap from the air. Then, after scornfully bumping a +crest, she would slide, and race, and splash down a long incline, and +arrive bobbing and nodding in front of the next menace. + +A singular disadvantage of the sea lies in the fact that after +successfully surmounting one wave you discover that there is another +behind it just as important and just as nervously anxious to do +something effective in the way of swamping boats. In a ten-foot dingey +one can get an idea of the resources of the sea in the line of waves +that is not probable to the average experience which is never at sea in +a dingey. As each slatey wall of water approached, it shut all else from +the view of the men in the boat, and it was not difficult to imagine +that this particular wave was the final outburst of the ocean, the last +effort of the grim water. There was a terrible grace in the move of the +waves, and they came in silence, save for the snarling of the crests. + +In the wan light, the faces of the men must have been grey. Their eyes +must have glinted in strange ways as they gazed steadily astern. Viewed +from a balcony, the whole thing would doubtless have been weirdly +picturesque. But the men in the boat had no time to see it, and if they +had had leisure there were other things to occupy their minds. The sun +swung steadily up the sky, and they knew it was broad day because the +color of the sea changed from slate to emerald-green, streaked with +amber lights, and the foam was like tumbling snow. The process of the +breaking day was unknown to them. They were aware only of this effect +upon the color of the waves that rolled toward them. + +In disjointed sentences the cook and the correspondent argued as to the +difference between a life-saving station and a house of refuge. The cook +had said: "There's a house of refuge just north of the Mosquito Inlet +Light, and as soon as they see us, they'll come off in their boat and +pick us up." + +"As soon as who see us?" said the correspondent. + +"The crew," said the cook. + +"Houses of refuge don't have crews," said the correspondent. "As I +understand them, they are only places where clothes and grub are stored +for the benefit of shipwrecked people. They don't carry crews." + +"Oh, yes, they do," said the cook. + +"No, they don't," said the correspondent. + +"Well, we're not there yet, anyhow," said the oiler, in the stern. + +"Well," said the cook, "perhaps it's not a house of refuge that I'm +thinking of as being near Mosquito Inlet Light. Perhaps it's a life- +saving station." + +"We're not there yet," said the oiler, in the stern. + + +II + +As the boat bounced from the top of each wave, the wind tore through the +hair of the hatless men, and as the craft plopped her stern down again +the spray splashed past them. The crest of each of these waves was a +hill, from the top of which the men surveyed, for a moment, a broad +tumultuous expanse, shining and wind-riven. It was probably splendid. It +was probably glorious, this play of the free sea, wild with lights of +emerald and white and amber. + +"Bully good thing it's an on-shore wind," said the cook; "If not, where +would we be? Wouldn't have a show." + +"That's right," said the correspondent. + +The busy oiler nodded his assent. + +Then the captain, in the bow, chuckled in a way that expressed humor, +contempt, tragedy, all in one. "Do you think We've got much of a show +now, boys?" said he. + +Whereupon the three were silent, save for a trifle of hemming and +hawing. To express any particular optimism at this time they felt to be +childish and stupid, but they all doubtless possessed this sense of the +situation in their mind. A young man thinks doggedly at such times. On +the other hand, the ethics of their condition was decidedly against any +open suggestion of hopelessness. So they were silent. + +"Oh, well," said the captain, soothing his children, "We'll get ashore +all right." + +But there was that in his tone which made them think, so the oiler +quoth: "Yes! If this wind holds!" + +The cook was bailing: "Yes! If we don't catch hell in the surf." + +Canton flannel gulls flew near and far. Sometimes they sat down on the +sea, near patches of brown seaweed that rolled on the waves with a +movement like carpets on a line in a gale. The birds sat comfortably in +groups, and they were envied by some in the dingey, for the wrath of the +sea was no more to them than it was to a covey of prairie chickens a +thousand miles inland. Often they came very close and stared at the men +with black bead-like eyes. At these times they were uncanny and sinister +in their unblinking scrutiny, and the men hooted angrily at them, +telling them to be gone. One came, and evidently decided to alight on +the top of the captain's head. The bird flew parallel to the boat and +did not circle, but made short sidelong jumps in the air in chicken- +fashion. His black eyes were wistfully fixed upon the captain's head. +"Ugly brute," said the oiler to the bird. "You look as if you were made +with a jack-knife." The cook and the correspondent swore darkly at the +creature. The captain naturally wished to knock it away with the end of +the heavy painter; but he did not dare do it, because anything +resembling an emphatic gesture would have capsized this freighted boat, +and so with his open hand, the captain gently and carefully waved the +gull away. After it had been discouraged from the pursuit the captain +breathed easier on account of his hair, and others breathed easier +because the bird struck their minds at this time as being somehow +grewsome and ominous. + +In the meantime the oiler and the correspondent rowed And also they +rowed. + +They sat together in the same seat, and each rowed an oar. Then the +oiler took both oars; then the correspondent took both oars; then the +oiler; then the correspondent. They rowed and they rowed. The very +ticklish part of the business was when the time came for the reclining +one in the stern to take his turn at the oars. By the very last star of +truth, it is easier to steal eggs from under a hen than it was to change +seats in the dingey. First the man in the stern slid his hand along the +thwart and moved with care, as if he were of Sevres. Then the man in the +rowing seat slid his hand along the other thwart. It was all done with +most extraordinary care. As the two sidled past each other, the whole +party kept watchful eyes on the coming wave, and the captain cried: +"Look out now! Steady there!" + +The brown mats of seaweed that appeared from time to time were like +islands, bits of earth. They were traveling, apparently, neither one way +nor the other. They were, to all intents, stationary. They informed the +men in the boat that it was making progress slowly toward the land. + +The captain, rearing cautiously in the bow, after the dingey soared on a +great swell, said that he had seen the light-house at Mosquito Inlet. +Presently the cook remarked that he had seen it. The correspondent was +at the oars then, and for some reason he too wished to look at the +lighthouse, but his back was toward the far shore and the waves were +important, and for some time he could not seize an opportunity to turn +his head. But at last there came a wave more gentle than the others, and +when at the crest of it he swiftly scoured the western horizon. + +"See it?" said the captain. + +"No," said the correspondent slowly, "I didn't see anything." + +"Look again," said the captain. He pointed. "It's exactly in that +direction." + +At the top of another wave, the correspondent did as he was bid, and +this time his eyes chanced on a small still thing on the edge of the +swaying horizon. It was precisely like the point of a pin. It took an +anxious eye to find a light house so tiny. + +"Think we'll make it, captain?" + +"If this wind holds and the boat don't swamp, we can't do much else," +said the captain. + +The little boat, lifted by each towering sea, and splashed viciously by +the crests, made progress that in the absence of seaweed was not +apparent to those in her. She seemed just a wee thing wallowing, +miraculously top-up, at the mercy of five oceans. Occasionally, a great +spread of water, like white flames, swarmed into her. + +"Bail her, cook," said the captain serenely. + +"All right, captain," said the cheerful cook. + + +III + +It would be difficult to describe the subtle brotherhood of men that was +here established on the seas. No one said that it was so. No one +mentioned it. But it dwelt in the boat, and each man felt it warm him. +They were a captain, an oiler, a cook, and a correspondent, and they +were friends, friends in a more curiously iron-bound degree than may be +common. The hurt captain, lying against the water-jar in the bow, spoke +always in a low voice and calmly, but he could never command a more +ready and swiftly obedient crew than the motley three of the dingey. It +was more than a mere recognition of what was best for the common safety. +There was surely in it a quality that was personal and heartfelt. And +after this devotion to the commander of the boat there was this +comradeship that the correspondent, for instance, who had been taught to +be cynical of men, knew even at the time was the best experience of his +life. But no one said that it was so. No one mentioned it. + +"I wish we had a sail," remarked the captain. "We might try my overcoat +on the end of an oar and give you two boys a chance to rest." So the +cook and the correspondent held the mast and spread wide the overcoat. +The oiler steered, and the little boat made good way with her new rig. +Sometimes the oiler had to scull sharply to keep a sea from breaking +into the boat, but otherwise sailing was a success. + +Meanwhile the lighthouse had been growing slowly larger. It had now +almost assumed color, and appeared like a little grey shadow on the sky. +The man at the oars could not be prevented from turning his head rather +often to try for a glimpse of this little grey shadow. + +At last, from the top of each wave the men in the tossing boat could see +land. Even as the lighthouse was an upright shadow on the sky, this land +seemed but a long black shadow on the sea. It certainly was thinner than +paper. "We must be about opposite New Smyrna," said the cook, who had +coasted this shore often in schooners. "Captain, by the way, I believe +they abandoned that life-saving station there about a year ago." + +"Did they?" said the captain. + +The wind slowly died away. The cook and the correspondent were not now +obliged to slave in order to hold high the oar. But the waves continued +their old impetuous swooping at the dingey, and the little craft, no +longer under way, struggled woundily over them. The oiler or the +correspondent took the oars again. + +Shipwrecks are _a propos_ of nothing. If men could only train for +them and have them occur when the men had reached pink condition, there +would be less drowning at sea. Of the four in the dingey none had slept +any time worth mentioning for two days and two nights previous to +embarking in the dingey, and in the excitement of clambering about the +deck of a foundering ship they had also forgotten to eat heartily. + +For these reasons, and for others, neither the oiler nor the +correspondent was fond of rowing at this time. The correspondent +wondered ingenuously how in the name of all that was sane could there be +people who thought it amusing to row a boat. It was not an amusement; it +was a diabolical punishment, and even a genius of mental aberrations +could never conclude that it was anything but a horror to the muscles +and a crime against the back. He mentioned to the boat in general how +the amusement of rowing struck him, and the weary-faced oiler smiled in +full sympathy. Previously to the foundering, by the way, the oiler had +worked double-watch in the engine-room of the ship. + +"Take her easy, now, boys," said the captain. "Don't spend yourselves. +If we have to run a surf you'll need all your strength, because we'll +sure have to swim for it. Take your time." + +Slowly the land arose from the sea. From a black line it became a line +of black and a line of white, trees and sand. Finally, the captain said +that he could make out a house on the shore. "That's the house of +refuge, sure," said the cook. "They'll see us before long, and come out +after us." + +The distant lighthouse reared high. "The keeper ought to be able to make +us out now, if he's looking through a glass," said the captain. "He'll +notify the life-saving people." + +"None of those other boats could have got ashore to give word of the +wreck," said the oiler, in a low voice. "Else the lifeboat would be out +hunting us." + +Slowly and beautifully the land loomed out of the sea. The wind came +again. It had veered from the north-east to the south-east. Finally, a +new sound struck the ears of the men in the boat. It was the low thunder +of the surf on the shore. "We'll never be able to make the lighthouse +now," said the captain. "Swing her head a little more north, Billie," +said he. + +"'A little more north,' sir," said the oiler. + +Whereupon the little boat turned her nose once more down the wind, and +all but the oarsman watched the shore grow. Under the influence of this +expansion doubt and direful apprehension was leaving the minds of the +men. The management of the boat was still most absorbing, but it could +not prevent a quiet cheerfulness. In an hour, perhaps, they would be +ashore. + +Their backbones had become thoroughly used to balancing in the boat, and +they now rode this wild colt of a dingey like circus men. The +correspondent thought that he had been drenched to the skin, but +happening to feel in the top pocket of his coat, he found therein eight +cigars. Four of them were soaked with sea-water; four were perfectly +scathless. After a search, somebody produced three dry matches, and +thereupon the four waifs rode impudently in their little boat, and with +an assurance of an impending rescue shining in their eyes, puffed at the +big cigars and judged well and ill of all men. Everybody took a drink of +water. + + +IV + +"Cook," remarked the captain, "there don't seem to be any signs of life +about your house of refuge." + +"No," replied the cook. "Funny they don't see us!" + +A broad stretch of lowly coast lay before the eyes of the men. It was of +dunes topped with dark vegetation. The roar of the surf was plain, and +sometimes they could see the white lip of a wave as it spun up the +beach. A tiny house was blocked out black upon the sky. Southward, the +slim lighthouse lifted its little grey length. + +Tide, wind, and waves were swinging the dingey northward. "Funny they +don't see us," said the men. + +The surf's roar was here dulled, but its tone was, nevertheless, +thunderous and mighty. As the boat swam over the great rollers, the men +sat listening to this roar. "We'll swamp sure," said everybody. + +It is fair to say here that there was not a life-saving station within +twenty miles in either direction, but the men did not know this fact, +and in consequence they made dark and opprobrious remarks concerning the +eyesight of the nation's life-savers. Four scowling men sat in the +dingey and surpassed records in the invention of epithets. + +"Funny they don't see us." + +The lightheartedness of a former time had completely faded. To their +sharpened minds it was easy to conjure pictures of all kinds of +incompetency and blindness and, indeed, cowardice. There was the shore +of the populous land, and it was bitter and bitter to them that from it +came no sign. + +"Well," said the captain, ultimately, "I suppose we'll have to make a +try for ourselves. If we stay out here too long, we'll none of us have +strength left to swim after the boat swamps." + +And so the oiler, who was at the oars, turned the boat straight for the +shore. There was a sudden tightening of muscle. There was some thinking. + +"If we don't all get ashore--" said the captain. "If we don't all get +ashore, I suppose you fellows know where to send news of my finish?" + +They then briefly exchanged some addresses and admonitions. As for the +reflections of the men, there was a great deal of rage in them. +Perchance they might be formulated thus: "If I am going to be drowned-- +if I am going to be drowned--if I am going to be drowned, why, in the +name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, was I allowed to come thus +far and contemplate sand and trees? Was I brought here merely to have my +nose dragged away as I was about to nibble the sacred cheese of life? It +is preposterous. If this old ninny-woman, Fate, cannot do better than +this, she should be deprived of the management of men's fortunes. She is +an old hen who knows not her intention. If she has decided to drown me, +why did she not do it in the beginning and save me all this trouble? The +whole affair is absurd.... But no, she cannot mean to drown me. She dare +not drown me. She cannot drown me. Not after all this work." Afterward +the man might have had an impulse to shake his fist at the clouds: "Just +you drown me, now, and then hear what I call you!" + +The billows that came at this time were more formidable. They seemed +always just about to break and roll over the little boat in a turmoil of +foam. There was a preparatory and long growl in the speech of them. No +mind unused to the sea would have concluded that the dingey could ascend +these sheer heights in time. The shore was still afar. The oiler was a +wily surfman. "Boys," he said swiftly, "she won't live three minutes +more, and we're too far out to swim. Shall I take her to sea again, +captain?" + +"Yes! Go ahead!" said the captain. + +This oiler, by a series of quick miracles, and fast and steady +oarsmanship, turned the boat in the middle of the surf and took her +safely to sea again. + +There was a considerable silence as the boat bumped over the furrowed +sea to deeper water. Then somebody in gloom spoke. "Well, anyhow, they +must have seen us from the shore by now." + +The gulls went in slanting flight up the wind toward the grey desolate +east. A squall, marked by dingy clouds, and clouds brick-red, like smoke +from a burning building, appeared from the south-east. + +"What do you think of those life-saving people? Ain't they peaches?' + +"Funny they haven't seen us." + +"Maybe they think we're out here for sport! Maybe they think we're +fishin'. Maybe they think we're damned fools." + +It was a long afternoon. A changed tide tried to force them southward, +but the wind and wave said northward. Far ahead, where coast-line, sea, +and sky formed their mighty angle, there were little dots which seemed +to indicate a city on the shore. + +"St. Augustine?" + +The captain shook his head. "Too near Mosquito Inlet." + +And the oiler rowed, and then the correspondent rowed. Then the oiler +rowed. It was a weary business. The human back can become the seat of +more aches and pains than are registered in books for the composite +anatomy of a regiment. It is a limited area, but it can become the +theatre of innumerable muscular conflicts, tangles, wrenches, knots, and +other comforts. + +"Did you ever like to row, Billie?" asked the correspondent. + +"No," said the oiler. "Hang it!" + +When one exchanged the rowing-seat for a place in the bottom of the +boat, he suffered a bodily depression that caused him to be careless of +everything save an obligation to wiggle one finger. There was cold sea- +water swashing to and fro in the boat, and he lay in it. His head, +pillowed on a thwart, was within an inch of the swirl of a wave crest, +and sometimes a particularly obstreperous sea came in-board and drenched +him once more. But these matters did not annoy him. It is almost certain +that if the boat had capsized he would have tumbled comfortably out upon +the ocean as if he felt sure that it was a great soft mattress. + +"Look! There's a man on the shore!" + +"Where?" + +"There! See 'im? See 'im?" + +"Yes, sure! He's walking along." + +"Now he's stopped. Look! He's facing us!" + +"He's waving at us!" + +"So he is! By thunder!" + +"Ah, now we're all right! Now we're all right! There'll be a boat out +here for us in half-an-hour." + +"He's going on. He's running. He's going up to that house there." + +The remote beach seemed lower than the sea, and it required a searching +glance to discern the little black figure. The captain saw a floating +stick and they rowed to it. A bath-towel was by some weird chance in the +boat, and, tying this on the stick, the captain waved it. The oarsman +did not dare turn his head, so he was obliged to ask questions. + +"What's he doing now?" + +"He's standing still again. He's looking, I think.... There he goes +again. Toward the house.... Now he's stopped again." + +"Is he waving at us?" + +"No, not now! he was, though." + +"Look! There comes another man!" + +"He's running." + +"Look at him go, would you." + +"Why, he's on a bicycle. Now he's met the other man. They're both waving +at us. Look!" + +"There comes something up the beach." + +"What the devil is that thing?" + +"Why it looks like a boat." + +"Why, certainly it's a boat." + +"No, it's on wheels." + +"Yes, so it is. Well, that must be the life-boat. They drag them along +shore on a wagon." + +"That's the life-boat, sure." + +"No, by ----, it's--it's an omnibus." + +"I tell you it's a life-boat." + +"It is not! It's an omnibus. I can see it plain. See? One of these big +hotel omnibuses." + +"By thunder, you're right. It's an omnibus, sure as fate. What do you +suppose they are doing with an omnibus? Maybe they are going around +collecting the life-crew, hey?" + +"That's it, likely. Look! There's a fellow waving a little black flag. +He's standing on the steps of the omnibus. There come those other two +fellows. Now they're all talking together. Look at the fellow with the +flag. Maybe he ain't waving it." + +"That ain't a flag, is it? That's his coat. Why, certainly, that's his +coat." + +"So it is. It's his coat. He's taken it off and is waving it around his +head. But would you look at him swing it." + +"Oh, say, there isn't any life-saving station there. That's just a +winter resort hotel omnibus that has brought over some of the boarders +to see us drown." + +"What's that idiot with the coat mean? What's he signaling, anyhow?" + +"It looks as if he were trying to tell us to go north. There must be a +life-saving station up there." + +"No! He thinks we're fishing. Just giving us a merry hand. See? Ah, +there, Willie!" + +"Well, I wish I could make something out of those signals. What do you +suppose he means?" + +"He don't mean anything. He's just playing." + +"Well, if he'd just signal us to try the surf again, or to go to sea and +wait, or go north, or go south, or go to hell--there would be some +reason in it. But look at him. He just stands there and keeps his coat +revolving like a wheel. The ass!" + +"There come more people." + +"Now there's quite a mob. Look! Isn't that a boat?" + +"Where? Oh, I see where you mean. No, that's no boat." + +"That fellow is still waving his coat." + +"He must think we like to see him do that. Why don't he quit it? It +don't mean anything." + +"I don't know. I think he is trying to make us go north. It must be that +there's a life-saving station there somewhere." + +"Say, he ain't tired yet. Look at 'im wave." + +"Wonder how long he can keep that up. He's been revolving his coat ever +since he caught sight of us. He's an idiot. Why aren't they getting men +to bring a boat out? A fishing boat--one of those big yawls--could come +out here all right. Why don't he do something?" + +"Oh, it's all right, now." + +"They'll have a boat out here for us in less than no time, now that +they've seen us." + +A faint yellow tone came into the sky over the low land. The shadows on +the sea slowly deepened. The wind bore coldness with it, and the men +began to shiver. + +"Holy smoke!" said one, allowing his voice to express his impious mood, +"if we keep on monkeying out here! If we've got to flounder out here all +night!" + +"Oh, we'll never have to stay here all night! Don't you worry. They've +seen us now, and it won't be long before they'll come chasing out after +us." + +The shore grew dusky. The man waving a coat blended gradually into this +gloom, and it swallowed in the same manner the omnibus and the group of +people. The spray, when it dashed uproariously over the side, made the +voyagers shrink and swear like men who were being branded. + +"I'd like to catch the chump who waved the coat. I feel like soaking him +one, just for luck." + +"Why? What did he do?" + +"Oh, nothing, but then he seemed so damned cheerful." + +In the meantime the oiler rowed, and then the correspondent rowed, and +then the oiler rowed. Grey-faced and bowed forward, they mechanically, +turn by turn, plied the leaden oars. The form of the lighthouse had +vanished from the southern horizon, but finally a pale star appeared, +just lifting from the sea. The streaked saffron in the west passed +before the all-merging darkness, and the sea to the east was black. The +land had vanished, and was expressed only by the low and drear thunder +of the surf. + +"If I am going to be drowned--if I am going to be drowned--if I am going +to be drowned, why, in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, +was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees? Was I +brought here merely to have my nose dragged away as I was about to +nibble the sacred cheese of life?" + +The patient captain, drooped over the water-jar, was sometimes obliged +to speak to the oarsman. + +"Keep her head up! Keep her head up!" + +"'Keep her head up,' sir." The voices were weary and low. + +This was surely a quiet evening. All save the oarsman lay heavily and +listlessly in the boat's bottom. As for him, his eyes were just capable +of noting the tall black waves that swept forward in a most sinister +silence, save for an occasional subdued growl of a crest. + +The cook's head was on a thwart, and he looked without interest at the +water under his nose. He was deep in other scenes. Finally he spoke. +"Billie," he murmured, dreamfully, "what kind of pie do you like best?" + + +V + +"Pie," said the oiler and the correspondent, agitatedly. "Don't talk +about those things, blast you!" + +"Well," said the cook, "I was just thinking about ham sandwiches, and--" + +A night on the sea in an open boat is a long night. As darkness settled +finally, the shine of the light, lifting from the sea in the south, +changed to full gold. On the northern horizon a new light appeared, a +small bluish gleam on the edge of the waters. These two lights were the +furniture of the world. Otherwise there was nothing but waves. + +Two men huddled in the stern, and distances were so magnificent in the +dingey that the rower was enabled to keep his feet partly warmed by +thrusting them under his companions. Their legs indeed extended far +under the rowing-seat until they touched the feet of the captain +forward. Sometimes, despite the efforts of the tired oarsman, a wave +came piling into the boat, an icy wave of the night, and the chilling +water soaked them anew. They would twist their bodies for a moment and +groan, and sleep the dead sleep once more, while the water in the boat +gurgled about them as the craft rocked. + +The plan of the oiler and the correspondent was for one to row until he +lost the ability, and then arouse the other from his sea-water couch in +the bottom of the boat. + +The oiler plied the oars until his head drooped forward, and the +overpowering sleep blinded him. And he rowed yet afterward. Then he +touched a man in the bottom of the boat, and called his name. "Will you +spell me for a little while?" he said, meekly. + +"Sure, Billie," said the correspondent, awakening and dragging himself +to a sitting position. They exchanged places carefully, and the oiler, +cuddling down in the sea-water at the cook's side, seemed to go to sleep +instantly. + +The particular violence of the sea had ceased. The waves came without +snarling. The obligation of the man at the oars was to keep the boat +headed so that the tilt of the rollers would not capsize her, and to +preserve her from filling when the crests rushed past. The black waves +were silent and hard to be seen in the darkness. Often one was almost +upon the boat before the oarsman was aware. + +In a low voice the correspondent addressed the captain. He was not sure +that the captain was awake, although this iron man seemed to be always +awake. "Captain, shall I keep her making for that light north, sir?" + +The same steady voice answered him. "Yes. Keep it about two points off +the port bow." + +The cook had tied a life-belt around himself in order to get even the +warmth which this clumsy cork contrivance could donate, and he seemed +almost stove-like when a rower, whose teeth invariably chattered wildly +as soon as he ceased his labor, dropped down to sleep. + +The correspondent, as he rowed, looked down at the two men sleeping +under-foot. The cook's arm was around the oiler's shoulders, and, with +their fragmentary clothing and haggard faces, they were the babes of the +sea, a grotesque rendering of the old babes in the wood. + +Later he must have grown stupid at his work, for suddenly there was a +growling of water, and a crest came with a roar and a swash into the +boat, and it was a wonder that it did not set the cook afloat in his +life-belt. The cook continued to sleep, but the oiler sat up, blinking +his eyes and shaking with the new cold. + +"Oh, I'm awful sorry, Billie," said the correspondent contritely. + +"That's all right, old boy," said the oiler, and lay down again and was +asleep. + +Presently it seemed that even the captain dozed, and the correspondent +thought that he was the one man afloat on all the oceans. The wind had a +voice as it came over the waves, and it was sadder than the end. + +There was a long, loud swishing astern of the boat, and a gleaming trail +of phosphorescence, like blue flame, was furrowed on the black waters. +It might have been made by a monstrous knife. + +Then there came a stillness, while the correspondent breathed with the +open mouth and looked at the sea. + +Suddenly there was another swish and another long flash of bluish light, +and this time it was alongside the boat, and might almost have been +reached with an oar. The correspondent saw an enormous fin speed like a +shadow through the water, hurling the crystalline spray and leaving the +long glowing trail. + +The correspondent looked over his shoulder at the captain. His face was +hidden, and he seemed to be asleep. He looked at the babes of the sea. +They certainly were asleep. So, being bereft of sympathy, he leaned a +little way to one side and swore softly into the sea. + +But the thing did not then leave the vicinity of the boat. Ahead or +astern, on one side or the other, at intervals long or short, fled the +long sparkling streak, and there was to be heard the whirroo of the dark +fin. The speed and power of the thing was greatly to be admired. It cut +the water like a gigantic and keen projectile. + +The presence of this biding thing did not affect the man with the same +horror that it would if he had been a picnicker. He simply looked at the +sea dully and swore in an undertone. + +Nevertheless, it is true that he did not wish to be alone. He wished one +of his companions to awaken by chance and keep him company with it. But +the captain hung motionless over the water-jar, and the oiler and the +cook in the bottom of the boat were plunged in slumber. + + +VI + +"If I am going to be drowned--if I am going to be drowned--if I am going +to be drowned, why, in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, +was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees?" + +During this dismal night, it may be remarked that a man would conclude +that it was really the intention of the seven mad gods to drown him, +despite the abominable injustice of it. For it was certainly an +abominable injustice to drown a man who had worked so hard, so hard. The +man felt it would be a crime most unnatural. Other people had drowned at +sea since galleys swarmed with painted sails, but still-- + +When it occurs to a man that nature does not regard him as important, +and that she feels she would not maim the universe by disposing of him, +he at first wishes to throw bricks at the temple, and he hates deeply +the fact that there are no brick and no temples. Any visible expression +of nature would surely be pelleted with his jeers. + +Then, if there be no tangible thing to hoot he feels, perhaps, the +desire to confront a personification and indulge in pleas, bowed to one +knee, and with hands supplicant, saying: "Yes, but I love myself." + +A high cold star on a winter's night is the word he feels that she says +to him. Thereafter he knows the pathos of his situation. + +The men in the dingey had not discussed these matters, but each had, no +doubt, reflected upon them in silence and according to his mind. There +was seldom any expression upon their faces save the general one of +complete weariness. Speech was devoted to the business of the boat. + +To chime the notes of his emotion, a verse mysteriously entered the +correspondent's head. He had even forgotten that he had forgotten this +verse, but it suddenly was in his mind. + + "A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, + There was a lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of + woman's tears; + But a comrade stood beside him, and he took that comrade's hand, + And he said: 'I shall never see my own, my native land.'" + +In his childhood, the correspondent had been made acquainted with the +fact that a soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, but he had never +regarded the fact as important. Myriads of his school-fellows had +informed him of the soldier's plight, but the dinning had naturally +ended by making him perfectly indifferent. He had never considered it +his affair that a soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, nor had it +appeared to him as a matter for sorrow. It was less to him than the +breaking of a pencil's point. + +Now, however, it quaintly came to him as a human, living thing. It was +no longer merely a picture of a few throes in the breast of a poet, +meanwhile drinking tea and warming his feet at the grate; it was an +actuality--stern, mournful, and fine. + +The correspondent plainly saw the soldier. He lay on the sand with his +feet out straight and still. While his pale left hand was upon his chest +in an attempt to thwart the going of his life, the blood came between +his fingers. In the far Algerian distance, a city of low square forms +was set against a sky that was faint with the last sunset hues. The +correspondent, plying the oars and dreaming of the slow and slower +movements of the lips of the soldier, was moved by a profound and +perfectly impersonal comprehension. He was sorry for the soldier of the +Legion who lay dying in Algiers. + +The thing which had followed the boat and waited, had evidently grown +bored at the delay. There was no longer to be heard the slash of the +cut-water, and there was no longer the flame of the long trail. The +light in the north still glimmered, but it was apparently no nearer to +the boat. Sometimes the boom of the surf rang in the correspondent's +ears, and he turned the craft seaward then and rowed harder. Southward, +some one had evidently built a watch-fire on the beach. It was too low +and too far to be seen, but it made a shimmering, roseate reflection +upon the bluff back of it, and this could be discerned from the boat. +The wind came stronger, and sometimes a wave suddenly raged out like a +mountain-cat, and there was to be seen the sheen and sparkle of a broken +crest. + +The captain, in the bow, moved on his water-jar and sat erect. "Pretty +long night," he observed to the correspondent. He looked at the shore. +"Those life-saving people take their time." + +"Did you see that shark playing around?" + +"Yes, I saw him. He was a big fellow, all right." + +"Wish I had known you were awake." + +Later the correspondent spoke into the bottom of the boat. + +"Billie!" There was a slow and gradual disentanglement. "Billie, will +you spell me?" + +"Sure," said the oiler. + +As soon as the correspondent touched the cold comfortable sea-water in +the bottom of the boat, and had huddled close to the cook's life-belt he +was deep in sleep, despite the fact that his teeth played all the +popular airs. This sleep was so good to him that it was but a moment +before he heard a voice call his name in a tone that demonstrated the +last stages of exhaustion. "Will you spell me?" + +"Sure, Billie." + +The light in the north had mysteriously vanished, but the correspondent +took his course from the wide-awake captain. + +Later in the night they took the boat farther out to sea, and the +captain directed the cook to take one oar at the stern and keep the boat +facing the seas. He was to call out if he should hear the thunder of the +surf. This plan enabled the oiler and the correspondent to get respite +together. "We'll give those boys a chance to get into shape again," said +the captain. They curled down and, after a few preliminary chatterings +and trembles, slept once more the dead sleep. Neither knew they had +bequeathed to the cook the company of another shark, or perhaps the same +shark. + +As the boat caroused on the waves, spray occasionally bumped over the +side and gave them a fresh soaking, but this had no power to break their +repose. The ominous slash of the wind and the water affected them as it +would have affected mummies. + +"Boys," said the cook, with the notes of every reluctance in his voice, +"she's drifted in pretty close. I guess one of you had better take her +to sea again." The correspondent, aroused, heard the crash of the +toppled crests. + +As he was rowing, the captain gave him some whisky-and-water, and this +steadied the chills out of him. "If I ever get ashore and anybody shows +me even a photograph of an oar--" + +At last there was a short conversation. + +"Billie.... Billie, will you spell me?" + +"Sure," said the oiler. + + +VII + +When the correspondent again opened his eyes, the sea and the sky were +each of the grey hue of the dawning. Later, carmine and gold was painted +upon the waters. The morning appeared finally, in its splendor, with a +sky of pure blue, and the sunlight flamed on the tips of the waves. + +On the distant dunes were set many little black cottages, and a tall +white windmill reared above them. No man, nor dog, nor bicycle appeared +on the beach. The cottages might have formed a deserted village. + +The voyagers scanned the shore. A conference was held in the boat. +"Well," said the captain, "if no help is coming we might better try a +run through the surf right away. If we stay out here much longer we will +be too weak to do anything for ourselves at all." The others silently +acquiesced in this reasoning. The boat was headed for the beach. The +correspondent wondered if none ever ascended the tall wind-tower, and if +then they never looked seaward. This tower was a giant, standing with +its back to the plight of the ants. It represented in a degree, to the +correspondent, the serenity of nature amid the struggles of the +individual--nature in the wind, and nature in the vision of men. She did +not seem cruel to him then, nor beneficent, nor treacherous, nor wise. +But she was indifferent, flatly indifferent. It is, perhaps, plausible +that a man in this situation, impressed with the unconcern of the +universe, should see the innumerable flaws of his life, and have them +taste wickedly in his mind and wish for another chance. A distinction +between right and wrong seems absurdly clear to him, then, in this new +ignorance of the grave-edge, and he understands that if he were given +another opportunity he would mend his conduct and his words, and be +better and brighter during an introduction or at a tea. + +"Now, boys," said the captain, "she is going to swamp, sure. All we can +do is to work her in as far as possible, and then when she swamps, pile +out and scramble for the beach. Keep cool now, and don't jump until she +swamps sure." + +The oiler took the oars. Over his shoulders he scanned the surf. +"Captain," he said, "I think I'd better bring her about, and keep her +head-on to the seas and back her in." + +"All right, Billie," said the captain. "Back her in." The oiler swung +the boat then and, seated in the stern, the cook and the correspondent +were obliged to look over their shoulders to contemplate the lonely and +indifferent shore. + +The monstrous in-shore rollers heaved the boat high until the men were +again enabled to see the white sheets of water scudding up the slanted +beach. "We won't get in very close," said the captain. Each time a man +could wrest his attention from the rollers, he turned his glance toward +the shore, and in the expression of the eyes during this contemplation +there was a singular quality. The correspondent, observing the others, +knew that they were not afraid, but the full meaning of their glances +was shrouded. + +As for himself, he was too tired to grapple fundamentally with the fact. +He tried to coerce his mind into thinking of it, but the mind was +dominated at this time by the muscles, and the muscles said they did not +care. It merely occurred to him that if he should drown it would be a +shame. + +There were no hurried words, no pallor, no plain agitation. The men +simply looked at the shore. "Now, remember to get well clear of the boat +when you jump," said the captain. + +Seaward the crest of a roller suddenly fell with a thunderous crash, and +the long white comber came roaring down upon the boat. + +"Steady now," said the captain. The men were silent. They turned their +eyes from the shore to the comber and waited. The boat slid up the +incline, leaped at the furious top, bounced over it, and swung down the +long back of the wave. Some water had been shipped and the cook bailed +it out. + +But the next crest crashed also. The tumbling, boiling flood of white +water caught the boat and whirled it almost perpendicular. Water swarmed +in from all sides. The correspondent had his hands on the gunwale at +this time, and when the water entered at that place he swiftly withdrew +his fingers, as if he objected to wetting them. + +The little boat, drunken with this weight of water, reeled and snuggled +deeper into the sea. + +"Bail her out, cook! Bail her out," said the captain. + +"All right, captain," said the cook. + +"Now, boys, the next one will do for us, sure," said the oiler. "Mind to +jump clear of the boat." + +The third wave moved forward, huge, furious, implacable. It fairly +swallowed the dingey, and almost simultaneously the men tumbled into the +sea. A piece of lifebelt had lain in the bottom of the boat, and as the +correspondent went overboard he held this to his chest with his left +hand. + +The January water was icy, and he reflected immediately that it was +colder than he had expected to find it on the coast of Florida. This +appeared to his dazed mind as a fact important enough to be noted at the +time. The coldness of the water was sad; it was tragic. This fact was +somehow so mixed and confused with his opinion of his own situation that +it seemed almost a proper reason for tears. The water was cold. + +When he came to the surface he was conscious of little but the noisy +water. Afterward he saw his companions in the sea. The oiler was ahead +in the race. He was swimming strongly and rapidly. Off to the +correspondent's left, the cook's great white and corked back bulged out +of the water, and in the rear the captain was hanging with his one good +hand to the keel of the overturned dingey. + +There is a certain immovable quality to a shore, and the correspondent +wondered at it amid the confusion of the sea. + +It seemed also very attractive, but the correspondent knew that it was a +long journey, and he paddled leisurely. The piece of life-preserver lay +under him, and sometimes he whirled down the incline of a wave as if he +were on a handsled. + +But finally he arrived at a place in the sea where travel was beset +with difficulty. He did not pause swimming to inquire what manner of +current had caught him, but there his progress ceased. The shore was set +before him like a bit of scenery on a stage, and he looked at it and +understood with his eyes each detail of it. + +As the cook passed, much farther to the left, the captain was calling to +him, "Turn over on your back, cook! Turn over on your back and use the +oar." + +"All right, sir." The cook turned on his back, and, paddling with an +oar, went ahead as if he were a canoe. + +Presently the boat also passed to the left of the correspondent with the +captain clinging with one hand to the keel. He would have appeared like +a man raising himself to look over a board fence, if it were not for the +extraordinary gymnastics of the boat. The correspondent marvelled that +the captain could still hold to it. + +They passed on, nearer to shore--the oiler, the cook, the captain--and +following them went the water-jar, bouncing gaily over the seas. + +The correspondent remained in the grip of this strange new enemy--a +current. The shore, with its white slope of sand and its green bluff, +topped with little silent cottages, was spread like a picture before +him. It was very near to him then, but he was impressed as one who in a +gallery looks at a scene from Brittany or Holland. + +He thought: "I am going to drown? Can it be possible Can it be possible? +Can it be possible?" Perhaps an individual must consider his own death +to be the final phenomenon of nature. + +But later a wave perhaps whirled him out of this small, deadly current, +for he found suddenly that he could again make progress toward the +shore. Later still, he was aware that the captain, clinging with one +hand to the keel of the dingey, had his face turned away from the shore +and toward him, and was calling his name. "Come to the boat! Come to the +boat!" + +In his struggle to reach the captain and the boat, he reflected that +when one gets properly wearied, drowning must really be a comfortable +arrangement, a cessation of hostilities accompanied by a large degree of +relief, and he was glad of it, for the main thing in his mind for some +months had been horror of the temporary agony. He did not wish to be +hurt. + +Presently he saw a man running along the shore. He was undressing with +most remarkable speed. Coat, trousers, shirt, everything flew magically +off him. + +"Come to the boat," called the captain. + +"All right, captain." As the correspondent paddled, he saw the captain +let himself down to bottom and leave the boat. Then the correspondent +performed his one little marvel of the voyage. A large wave caught him +and flung him with ease and supreme speed completely over the boat and +far beyond it. It struck him even then as an event in gymnastics, and a +true miracle of the sea. An over-turned boat in the surf is not a +plaything to a swimming man. + +The correspondent arrived in water that reached only to his waist, but +his condition did not enable him to stand for more than a moment. Each +wave knocked him into a heap, and the under-tow pulled at him. + +Then he saw the man who had been running and undressing, and undressing +and running, come bounding into the water. He dragged ashore the cook, +and then waded towards the captain, but the captain waved him away, and +sent him to the correspondent. He was naked, naked as a tree in winter, +but a halo was about his head, and he shone like a saint. He gave a +strong pull, and a long drag, and a bully heave at the correspondent's +hand. The correspondent, schooled in the minor formulae, said: "Thanks, +old man." But suddenly the man cried: "What's that?" He pointed a swift +finger. The correspondent said: "Go." + +In the shallows, face downward, lay the oiler. His forehead touched sand +that was periodically, between each wave, clear of the sea. + +The correspondent did not know all that transpired afterward. When he +achieved safe ground he fell, striking the sand with each particular +part of his body. It was as if he had dropped from a roof, but the thud +was grateful to him. + +It seems that instantly the beach was populated with men with blankets, +clothes, and flasks, and women with coffeepots and all the remedies +sacred to their minds. The welcome of the land to the men from the sea +was warm and generous, but a still and dripping shape was carried slowly +up the beach, and the land's welcome for it could only be the different +and sinister hospitality of the grave. + +When it came night, the white waves paced to and fro in the moonlight, +and the wind brought the sound of the great sea's voice to the men on +shore, and they felt that they could then be interpreters. + + + + +THE RELUCTANT VOYAGERS + + +CHAPTER I + +Two men sat by the sea waves. + +"Well, I know I'm not handsome," said one gloomily. He was poking holes +in the sand with a discontented cane. + +The companion was watching the waves play. He seemed overcome with +perspiring discomfort as a man who is resolved to set another man right. + +Suddenly his mouth turned into a straight line. + +"To be sure you are not," he cried vehemently. + +"You look like thunder. I do not desire to be unpleasant, but I must +assure you that your freckled skin continually reminds spectators of +white wall paper with gilt roses on it. The top of your head looks like +a little wooden plate. And your figure--heavens!" + +For a time they were silent. They stared at the waves that purred near +their feet like sleepy sea-kittens. + +Finally the first man spoke. + +"Well," said he, defiantly, "what of it?" + +"What of it?" exploded the other. "Why, it means that you'd look like +blazes in a bathing-suit." + +They were again silent. The freckled man seemed ashamed. His tall +companion glowered at the scenery. + +"I am decided," said the freckled man suddenly. He got boldly up from the +sand and strode away. The tall man followed, walking sarcastically and +glaring down at the round, resolute figure before him. + +A bath-clerk was looking at the world with superior eyes through a hole +in a board. To him the freckled man made application, waving his hands +over his person in illustration of a snug fit. The bath-clerk thought +profoundly. Eventually, he handed out a blue bundle with an air of +having phenomenally solved the freckled man's dimensions. + +The latter resumed his resolute stride. + +"See here," said the tall man, following him, "I bet you've got a +regular toga, you know. That fellow couldn't tell--" + +"Yes, he could," interrupted the freckled man, "I saw correct +mathematics in his eyes." + +"Well, supposin' he has missed your size. Supposin'--" + +"Tom," again interrupted the other, "produce your proud clothes and +we'll go in." + +The tall man swore bitterly. He went to one of a row of little wooden +boxes and shut himself in it. His companion repaired to a similar box. + +At first he felt like an opulent monk in a too-small cell, and he turned +round two or three times to see if he could. He arrived finally into his +bathing-dress. Immediately he dropped gasping upon a three-cornered +bench. The suit fell in folds about his reclining form. There was +silence, save for the caressing calls of the waves without. + +Then he heard two shoes drop on the floor in one of the little coops. He +began to clamor at the boards like a penitent at an unforgiving door. + +"Tom," called he, "Tom--" + +A voice of wrath, muffled by cloth, came through the walls. "You go t' +blazes!" + +The freckled man began to groan, taking the occupants of the entire row +of coops into his confidence. + +"Stop your noise," angrily cried the tall man from his hidden den. "You +rented the bathing-suit, didn't you? Then--" + +"It ain't a bathing-suit," shouted the freckled man at the boards. "It's +an auditorium, a ballroom, or something. It isn't a bathing-suit." + +The tall man came out of his box. His suit looked like blue skin. He +walked with grandeur down the alley between the rows of coops. Stopping +in front of his friend's door, he rapped on it with passionate knuckles. + +"Come out of there, y' ol' fool," said he, in an enraged whisper. "It's +only your accursed vanity. Wear it anyhow. What difference does it make? +I never saw such a vain ol' idiot!" + +As he was storming the door opened, and his friend confronted him. The +tall man's legs gave way, and he fell against the opposite door. + +The freckled man regarded him sternly. + +"You're an ass," he said. + +His back curved in scorn. He walked majestically down the alley. There +was pride in the way his chubby feet patted the boards. The tall man +followed, weakly, his eyes riveted upon the figure ahead. + +As a disguise the freckled man had adopted the stomach of importance. He +moved with an air of some sort of procession, across a board walk, down +some steps, and out upon the sand. + +There was a pug dog and three old women on a bench, a man and a maid +with a book and a parasol, a seagull drifting high in the wind, and a +distant, tremendous meeting of sea and sky. Down on the wet sand stood a +girl being wooed by the breakers. + +The freckled man moved with stately tread along the beach. The tall man, +numb with amazement, came in the rear. They neared the girl. + +Suddenly the tall man was seized with convulsions. He laughed, and the +girl turned her head. + +She perceived the freckled man in the bathing-suit. An expression of +wonderment overspread her charming face. It changed in a moment to a +pearly smile. + +This smile seemed to smite the freckled man. He obviously tried to swell +and fit his suit. Then he turned a shrivelling glance upon his +companion, and fled up the beach. The tall man ran after him, pursuing +with mocking cries that tingled his flesh like stings of insects. He +seemed to be trying to lead the way out of the world. But at last he +stopped and faced about. + +"Tom Sharp," said he, between his clenched teeth, "you are an +unutterable wretch! I could grind your bones under my heel." + +The tall man was in a trance, with glazed eyes fixed on the bathing- +dress. He seemed to be murmuring: "Oh, good Lord! Oh, good Lord! I never +saw such a suit!" + +The freckled man made the gesture of an assassin. + +"Tom Sharp, you--" + +The other was still murmuring: "Oh, good Lord! I never saw such a suit! +I never--" + +The freckled man ran down into the sea. + + +CHAPTER II + +The cool, swirling waters took his temper from him, and it became a +thing that is lost in the ocean. The tall man floundered in, and the two +forgot and rollicked in the waves. + +The freckled man, in endeavoring to escape from mankind, had left all +save a solitary fisherman under a large hat, and three boys in bathing- +dress, laughing and splashing upon a raft made of old spars. + +The two men swam softly over the ground swells. + +The three boys dived from their raft, and turned their jolly faces +shorewards. It twisted slowly around and around, and began to move +seaward on some unknown voyage. The freckled man laid his face to the +water and swam toward the raft with a practised stroke. The tall man +followed, his bended arm appearing and disappearing with the precision +of machinery. + +The craft crept away, slowly and wearily, as if luring. The little +wooden plate on the freckled man's head looked at the shore like a +round, brown eye, but his gaze was fixed on the raft that slyly appeared +to be waiting. The tall man used the little wooden plate as a beacon. + +At length the freckled man reached the raft and climbed aboard. He lay +down on his back and puffed. His bathing-dress spread about him like a +dead balloon. The tall man came, snorted, shook his tangled locks and +lay down by the side of his companion. + +They were overcome with a delicious drowsiness. The planks of the raft +seemed to fit their tired limbs. They gazed dreamily up into the vast +sky of summer. + +"This is great," said the tall man. His companion grunted blissfully. + +Gentle hands from the sea rocked their craft and lulled them to peace. +Lapping waves sang little rippling sea-songs about them. The two men +issued contented groans. + +"Tom," said the freckled man. + +"What?" said the other. + +"This is great." + +They lay and thought. + +A fish-hawk, soaring, suddenly, turned and darted at the waves. The tall +man indolently twisted his head and watched the bird plunge its claws +into the water. It heavily arose with a silver gleaming fish. + +"That bird has got his feet wet again. It's a shame," murmured the tall +man sleepily. "He must suffer from an endless cold in the head. He +should wear rubber boots. They'd look great, too. If I was him, I'd-- +Great Scott!" + +He had partly arisen, and was looking at the shore. + +He began to scream. "Ted! Ted! Ted! Look!" + +"What's matter?" dreamily spoke the freckled man. "You remind me of when +I put the bird-shot in your leg." He giggled softly. + +The agitated tall man made a gesture of supreme eloquence. His companion +up-reared and turned a startled gaze shoreward. + +"Lord!" he roared, as if stabbed. + +The land was a long, brown streak with a rim of green, in which sparkled +the tin roofs of huge hotels. The hands from the sea had pushed them +away. The two men sprang erect, and did a little dance of perturbation. + +"What shall we do? What shall we do?" moaned the freckled man, wriggling +fantastically in his dead balloon. + +The changing shore seemed to fascinate the tall man, and for a time he +did not speak. + +Suddenly he concluded his minuet of horror. He wheeled about and faced +the freckled man. He elaborately folded his arms. + +"So," he said, in slow, formidable tones. "So! This all comes from your +accursed vanity, your bathing-suit, your idiocy; you have murdered your +best friend." + +He turned away. His companion reeled as if stricken by an unexpected +arm. + +He stretched out his hands. "Tom, Tom," wailed he, beseechingly, "don't +be such a fool." + +The broad back of his friend was occupied by a contemptuous sneer. + +Three ships fell off the horizon. Landward, the hues were blending. The +whistle of a locomotive sounded from an infinite distance as if tooting +in heaven. + +"Tom! Tom! My dear boy," quavered the freckled man, "don't speak that +way to me." + +"Oh, no, of course not," said the other, still facing away and throwing +the words over his shoulder. "You suppose I am going to accept all this +calmly, don't you? Not make the slightest objection? Make no protest at +all, hey?" + +"Well, I--I----" began the freckled man. + +The tall man's wrath suddenly exploded. "You've abducted me! That's the +whole amount of it! You've abducted me!" + +"I ain't," protested the freckled man. "You must think I'm a fool." + +The tall man swore, and sitting down, dangled his legs angrily in the +water. Natural law compelled his companion to occupy the other end of +the raft. + +Over the waters little shoals of fish spluttered, raising tiny tempests. +Languid jelly-fish floated near, tremulously waving a thousand legs. A +row of porpoises trundled along like a procession of cog-wheels. The sky +became greyed save where over the land sunset colors were assembling. + +The two voyagers, back to back and at either end of the raft, quarrelled +at length. + +"What did you want to follow me for?" demanded the freckled man in a +voice of indignation. + +"If your figure hadn't been so like a bottle, we wouldn't be here," +replied the tall man. + + +CHAPTER III + +The fires in the west blazed away, and solemnity spread over the sea. +Electric lights began to blink like eyes. Night menaced the voyagers +with a dangerous darkness, and fear came to bind their souls together. +They huddled fraternally in the middle of the raft. + +"I feel like a molecule," said the freckled man in subdued tones. + +"I'd give two dollars for a cigar," muttered the tall man. + +A V-shaped flock of ducks flew towards Barnegat, between the voyagers +and a remnant of yellow sky. Shadows and winds came from the vanished +eastern horizon. + +"I think I hear voices," said the freckled man. + +"That Dollie Ramsdell was an awfully nice girl," said the tall man. + +When the coldness of the sea night came to them, the freckled man found +he could by a peculiar movement of his legs and arms encase himself in +his bathing-dress. The tall man was compelled to whistle and shiver. As +night settled finally over the sea, red and green lights began to dot +the blackness. There were mysterious shadows between the waves. + +"I see things comin'," murmured the freckled man. + +"I wish I hadn't ordered that new dress-suit for the hop to-morrow +night," said the tall man reflectively. + +The sea became uneasy and heaved painfully, like a lost bosom, when +little forgotten heart-bells try to chime with a pure sound. The +voyagers cringed at magnified foam on distant wave crests. A moon came +and looked at them. + +"Somebody's here," whispered the freckled man. + +"I wish I had an almanac," remarked the tall man, regarding the moon. + +Presently they fell to staring at the red and green lights that twinkled +about them. + +"Providence will not leave us," asserted the freckled man. + +"Oh, we'll be picked up shortly. I owe money," said the tall man. + +He began to thrum on an imaginary banjo. + +"I have heard," said he, suddenly, "that captains with healthy ships +beneath their feet will never turn back after having once started on a +voyage. In that case we will be rescued by some ship bound for the +golden seas of the south. Then, you'll be up to some of your confounded +devilment and we'll get put off. They'll maroon us! That's what they'll +do! They'll maroon us! On an island with palm trees and sun-kissed +maidens and all that. Sun-kissed maidens, eh? Great! They'd--" + +He suddenly ceased and turned to stone. At a distance a great, green eye +was contemplating the sea wanderers. + +They stood up and did another dance. As they watched the eye grew +larger. + +Directly the form of a phantom-like ship came into view. About the +great, green eye there bobbed small yellow dots. The wanderers could +hear a far-away creaking of unseen tackle and flapping of shadowy sails. +There came the melody of the waters as the ship's prow thrust its way. + +The tall man delivered an oration. + +"Ha!" he exclaimed, "here come our rescuers. The brave fellows! How I +long to take the manly captain by the hand! You will soon see a white +boat with a star on its bow drop from the side of yon ship. Kind sailors +in blue and white will help us into the boat and conduct our wasted +frames to the quarter-deck, where the handsome, bearded captain, with +gold bands all around, will welcome us. Then in the hard-oak cabin, +while the wine gurgles and the Havanas glow, we'll tell our tale of +peril and privation." + +The ship came on like a black hurrying animal with froth-filled maw. The +two wanderers stood up and clasped hands. Then they howled out a wild +duet that rang over the wastes of sea. + +The cries seemed to strike the ship. + +Men with boots on yelled and ran about the deck. They picked up heavy +articles and threw them down. They yelled more. After hideous creakings +and flappings, the vessel stood still. + +In the meantime the wanderers had been chanting their song for help. Out +in the blackness they beckoned to the ship and coaxed. + +A voice came to them. + +"Hello," it said. + +They puffed out their cheeks and began to shout. "Hello! Hello! Hello!" + +"Wot do yeh want?" said the voice. + +The two wanderers gazed at each other, and sat suddenly down on the +raft. Some pall came sweeping over the sky and quenched their stars. + +But almost the tall man got up and brawled miscellaneous information. He +stamped his foot, and frowning into the night, swore threateningly. + +The vessel seemed fearful of these moaning voices that called from a +hidden cavern of the water. And now one voice was filled with a menace. +A number of men with enormous limbs that threw vast shadows over the sea +as the lanterns flickered, held a debate and made gestures. + +Off in the darkness, the tall man began to clamor like a mob. The +freckled man sat in astounded silence, with his legs weak. + +After a time one of the men of enormous limbs seized a rope that was +tugging at the stem and drew a small boat from the shadows. Three giants +clambered in and rowed cautiously toward the raft. Silver water flashed +in the gloom as the oars dipped. + +About fifty feet from the raft the boat stopped. "Who er you?" asked a +voice. + +The tall man braced himself and explained. He drew vivid pictures, his +twirling fingers illustrating like live brushes. + +"Oh," said the three giants. + +The voyagers deserted the raft. They looked back, feeling in their +hearts a mite of tenderness for the wet planks. Later, they wriggled up +the side of the vessel and climbed over the railing. + +On deck they met a man. + +He held a lantern to their faces. "Got any chewin' tewbacca?" he +inquired. + +"No," said the tall man, "we ain't." + +The man had a bronze face and solitary whiskers. Peculiar lines about +his mouth were shaped into an eternal smile of derision. His feet were +bare, and clung handily to crevices. + +Fearful trousers were supported by a piece of suspender that went up the +wrong side of his chest and came down the right side of his back, +dividing him into triangles. + +"Ezekiel P. Sanford, capt'in, schooner 'Mary Jones,' of N'yack, N. Y., +genelmen," he said. + +"Ah!" said the tall man, "delighted, I'm sure." + +There were a few moments of silence. The giants were hovering in the +gloom and staring. + +Suddenly astonishment exploded the captain. + +"Wot th' devil----" he shouted. "Wot th' devil yeh got on?" + +"Bathing-suits," said the tall man. + + +CHAPTER IV + +The schooner went on. The two voyagers sat down and watched. After a +time they began to shiver. The soft blackness of the summer night passed +away, and grey mists writhed over the sea. Soon lights of early dawn +went changing across the sky, and the twin beacons on the highlands grew +dim and sparkling faintly, as if a monster were dying. The dawn +penetrated the marrow of the two men in bathing-dress. + +The captain used to pause opposite them, hitch one hand in his +suspender, and laugh. + +"Well, I be dog-hanged," he frequently said. + +The tall man grew furious. He snarled in a mad undertone to his +companion. "This rescue ain't right. If I had known--" + +He suddenly paused, transfixed by the captain's suspender. "It's goin' +to break," cried he, in an ecstatic whisper. His eyes grew large with +excitement as he watched the captain laugh. "It'll break in a minute, +sure." + +But the commander of the schooner recovered, and invited them to drink +and eat. They followed him along the deck, and fell down a square black +hole into the cabin. + +It was a little den, with walls of a vanished whiteness. A lamp shed an +orange light. In a sort of recess two little beds were hiding. A wooden +table, immovable, as if the craft had been builded around it, sat in the +middle of the floor. Overhead the square hole was studded with a dozen +stars. A foot-worn ladder led to the heavens. + +The captain produced ponderous crackers and some cold broiled ham. Then +he vanished in the firmament like a fantastic comet. + +The freckled man sat quite contentedly like a stout squaw in a blanket. +The tall man walked about the cabin and sniffed. He was angered at the +crudeness of the rescue, and his shrinking clothes made him feel too +large. He contemplated his unhappy state. + +Suddenly, he broke out. "I won't stand this, I tell you! Heavens and +earth, look at the--say, what in the blazes did you want to get me in +this thing for, anyhow? You're a fine old duffer, you are! Look at that +ham!" + +The freckled man grunted. He seemed somewhat blissful. He was seated +upon a bench, comfortably enwrapped in his bathing-dress. + +The tall man stormed about the cabin. + +"This is an outrage! I'll see the captain! I'll tell him what I think +of--" + +He was interrupted by a pair of legs that appeared among the stars. The +captain came down the ladder. He brought a coffee pot from the sky. + +The tall man bristled forward. He was going to denounce everything. + +The captain was intent upon the coffee pot, balancing it carefully, and +leaving his unguided feet to find the steps of the ladder. + +But the wrath of the tall man faded. He twirled his fingers in +excitement, and renewed his ecstatic whisperings to the freckled man. + +"It's going to break! Look, quick, look! It'll break in a minute!" + +He was transfixed with interest, forgetting his wrongs in staring at the +perilous passage. + +But the captain arrived on the floor with triumphant suspenders. + +"Well," said he, "after yeh have eat, maybe ye'd like t'sleep some! If +so, yeh can sleep on them beds." + +The tall man made no reply, save in a strained undertone. "It'll break +in about a minute! Look, Ted, look quick!" + +The freckled man glanced in a little bed on which were heaped boots and +oilskins. He made a courteous gesture. + +"My dear sir, we could not think of depriving you of your beds. No, +indeed. Just a couple of blankets if you have them, and we'll sleep very +comfortable on these benches." + +The captain protested, politely twisting his back and bobbing his head. +The suspenders tugged and creaked. The tall man partially suppressed a +cry, and took a step forward. + +The freckled man was sleepily insistent, and shortly the captain gave +over his deprecatory contortions. He fetched a pink quilt with yellow +dots on it to the freckled man, and a black one with red roses on it to +the tall man. + +Again he vanished in the firmament. The tall man gazed until the last +remnant of trousers disappeared from the sky. Then he wrapped himself up +in his quilt and lay down. The freckled man was puffing contentedly, +swathed like an infant. The yellow polka-dots rose and fell on the vast +pink of his chest. + +The wanderers slept. In the quiet could be heard the groanings of +timbers as the sea seemed to crunch them together. The lapping of water +along the vessel's side sounded like gaspings. A hundred spirits of the +wind had got their wings entangled in the rigging, and, in soft voices, +were pleading to be loosened. + +The freckled man was awakened by a foreign noise. He opened his eyes and +saw his companion standing by his couch. + +His comrade's face was wan with suffering. His eyes glowed in the +darkness. He raised his arms, spreading them out like a clergyman at a +grave. He groaned deep in his chest. + +"Good Lord!" yelled the freckled man, starting up. "Tom, Tom, what's th' +matter?" + +The tall man spoke in a fearful voice. "To New York," he said, "to New +York in our bathing-suits." + +The freckled man sank back. The shadows of the cabin threw mysteries +about the figure of the tall man, arrayed like some ancient and potent +astrologer in the black quilt with the red roses on it. + + +CHAPTER V + +Directly the tall man went and lay down and began to groan. + +The freckled man felt the miseries of the world upon him. He grew angry +at the tall man awakening him. They quarrelled. + +"Well," said the tall man, finally, "we're in a fix." + +"I know that," said the other, sharply. + +They regarded the ceiling in silence. + +"What in the thunder are we going to do?" demanded the tall man, after a +time. His companion was still silent. "Say," repeated he, angrily, "what +in the thunder are we going to do?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," said the freckled man in a dismal voice. + +"Well, think of something," roared the other. "Think of something, you +old fool. You don't want to make any more idiots of yourself, do you?" + +"I ain't made an idiot of myself." + +"Well, think. Know anybody in the city?" + +"I know a fellow up in Harlem," said the freckled man. + +"You know a fellow up in Harlem," howled the tall man. "Up in Harlem! +How the dickens are we to--say, you're crazy!" + +"We can take a cab," cried the other, waxing indignant. + +The tall man grew suddenly calm. "Do you know any one else?" he asked, +measuredly. + +"I know another fellow somewhere on Park Place." + +"Somewhere on Park Place," repeated the tall man in an unnatural manner. +"Somewhere on Park Place." With an air of sublime resignation he turned +his face to the wall. + +The freckled man sat erect and frowned in the direction of his +companion. "Well, now, I suppose you are going to sulk. You make me ill! +It's the best we can do, ain't it? Hire a cab and go look that fellow up +on Park--What's that? You can't afford it? What nonsense! You are +getting--Oh! Well, maybe we can beg some clothes of the captain. Eh? +Did I see 'im? Certainly, I saw 'im. Yes, it is improbable that a man +who wears trousers like that can have clothes to lend. No, I won't wear +oilskins and a sou'-wester. To Athens? Of course not! I don't know where +it is. Do you? I thought not. With all your grumbling about other +people, you never know anything important yourself. What? Broadway? I'll +be hanged first. We can get off at Harlem, man alive. There are no cabs +in Harlem. I don't think we can bribe a sailor to take us ashore and +bring a cab to the dock, for the very simple reason that we have nothing +to bribe him with. What? No, of course not. See here, Tom Sharp, don't +you swear at me like that. I won't have it. What's that? I ain't, +either. I ain't. What? I am not. It's no such thing. I ain't. I've got +more than you have, anyway. Well, you ain't doing anything so very +brilliant yourself--just lying there and cussin'." At length the tall +man feigned prodigiously to snore. The freckled man thought with such +vigor that he fell asleep. + +After a time he dreamed that he was in a forest where bass drums grew on +trees. There came a strong wind that banged the fruit about like empty +pods. A frightful din was in his ears. + +He awoke to find the captain of the schooner standing over him. + +"We're at New York now," said the captain, raising his voice above the +thumping and banging that was being done on deck, "an' I s'pose you +fellers wanta go ashore." He chuckled in an exasperating manner. "Jes' +sing out when yeh wanta go," he added, leering at the freckled man. + +The tall man awoke, came over and grasped the captain by the throat. + +"If you laugh again I'll kill you," he said. + +The captain gurgled and waved his legs and arms. + +"In the first place," the tall man continued, "you rescued us in a +deucedly shabby manner. It makes me ill to think of it. I've a mind to +mop you 'round just for that. In the second place, your vessel is bound +for Athens, N. Y., and there's no sense in it. Now, will you or will you +not turn this ship about and take us back where our clothes are, or to +Philadelphia, where we belong?" + +He furiously shook the captain. Then he eased his grip and awaited a +reply. + +"I can't," yelled the captain, "I can't. This vessel don't belong to me. +I've got to--" + +"Well, then," interrupted the tall man, "can you lend us some clothes?" + +"Hain't got none," replied the captain, promptly. His face was red, and +his eyes were glaring. + +"Well, then," said the tall man, "can you lend us some money?" + +"Hain't got none," replied the captain, promptly. Something overcame him +and he laughed. + +"Thunderation," roared the tall man. He seized the captain, who began to +have wriggling contortions. The tall man kneaded him as if he were +biscuits. "You infernal scoundrel," he bellowed, "this whole affair is +some wretched plot, and you are in it. I am about to kill you." + +The solitary whisker of the captain did acrobatic feats like a strange +demon upon his chin. His eyes stood perilously from his head. The +suspender wheezed and tugged like the tackle of a sail. + +Suddenly the tall man released his hold. Great expectancy sat upon his +features. "It's going to break!" he cried, rubbing his hands. + +But the captain howled and vanished in the sky. + +The freckled man then came forward. He appeared filled with sarcasm. + +"So!" said he. "So, you've settled the matter. The captain is the only +man in the world who can help us, and I daresay he'll do anything he can +now." + +"That's all right," said the tall man. "If you don't like the way I run +things you shouldn't have come on this trip at all." + +They had another quarrel. + +At the end of it they went on deck. The captain stood at the stern +addressing the bow with opprobrious language. When he perceived the +voyagers he began to fling his fists about in the air. + +"I'm goin' to put yeh off!" he yelled. The wanderers stared at each +other. + +"Hum," said the tall man. + +The freckled man looked at his companion. "He's going to put us off, you +see," he said, complacently. + +The tall man began to walk about and move his shoulders. "I'd like to +see you do it," he said, defiantly. + +The captain tugged at a rope. A boat came at his bidding. + +"I'd like to see you do it," the tall man repeated, continually. An +imperturbable man in rubber boots climbed down in the boat and seized +the oars. The captain motioned downward. His whisker had a triumphant +appearance. + +The two wanderers looked at the boat. "I guess we'll have to get in," +murmured the freckled man. + +The tall man was standing like a granite column. "I won't," said he. "I +won't! I don't care what you do, but I won't!" + +"Well, but--" expostulated the other. They held a furious debate. + +In the meantime the captain was darting about making sinister gestures, +but the back of the tall man held him at bay. The crew, much depleted by +the departure of the imperturbable man into the boat, looked on from the +bow. + +"You're a fool," the freckled man concluded his argument. + +"So?" inquired the tall man, highly exasperated. + +"So! Well, if you think you're so bright, we'll go in the boat, and then +you'll see." + +He climbed down into the craft and seated himself in an ominous manner +at the stern. + +"You'll see," he said to his companion, as the latter floundered heavily +down. "You'll see!" + +The man in rubber boots calmly rowed the boat toward the shore. As they +went, the captain leaned over the railing and laughed. The freckled man +was seated very victoriously. + +"Well, wasn't this the right thing after all?" he inquired in a pleasant +voice. The tall man made no reply. + + +CHAPTER VI + +As they neared the dock something seemed suddenly to occur to the +freckled man. + +"Great heavens!" he murmured. He stared at the approaching shore. + +"My, what a plight, Tommy!" he quavered. + +"Do you think so?" spoke up the tall man. "Why, I really thought you +liked it." He laughed in a hard voice. "Lord, what a figure you'll cut." + +This laugh jarred the freckled man's soul. He became mad. + +"Thunderation, turn the boat around!" he roared. "Turn 'er round, quick! +Man alive, we can't--turn 'er round, d'ye hear!" + +The tall man in the stern gazed at his companion with glowing eyes. + +"Certainly not," he said. "We're going on. You insisted Upon it." He +began to prod his companion with words. + +The freckled man stood up and waved his arms. + +"Sit down," said the tall man. "You'll tip the boat over." + +The other man began to shout. + +"Sit down!" said the tall man again. + +Words bubbled from the freckled man's mouth. There was a little torrent +of sentences that almost choked him. And he protested passionately with +his hands. + +But the boat went on to the shadow of the docks. The tall man was intent +upon balancing it as it rocked dangerously during his comrade's oration. + +"Sit down," he continually repeated. + +"I won't," raged the freckled man. "I won't do anything." The boat +wobbled with these words. + +"Say," he continued, addressing the oarsman, "just turn this boat round, +will you? Where in the thunder are you taking us to, anyhow?" + +The oarsman looked at the sky and thought. Finally he spoke. "I'm doin' +what the cap'n sed." + +"Well, what in th' blazes do I care what the cap'n sed?" demanded the +freckled man. He took a violent step. "You just turn this round or--" + +The small craft reeled. Over one side water came flashing in. The +freckled man cried out in fear, and gave a jump to the other side. The +tall man roared orders, and the oarsman made efforts. The boat acted for +a moment like an animal on a slackened wire. Then it upset. + +"Sit down!" said the tall man, in a final roar as he was plunged into +the water. The oarsman dropped his oars to grapple with the gunwale. He +went down saying unknown words. The freckled man's explanation or +apology was strangled by the water. + +Two or three tugs let off whistles of astonishment, and continued on +their paths. A man dozing on a dock aroused and began to caper. + +The passengers on a ferry-boat all ran to the near railing. A miraculous +person in a small boat was bobbing on the waves near the piers. He +sculled hastily toward the scene. It was a swirl of waters in the midst +of which the dark bottom of the boat appeared, whale-like. + +Two heads suddenly came up. + +"839," said the freckled man, chokingly. "That's it! 839!" + +"What is?" said the tall man. + +"That's the number of that feller on Park Place. I just remembered." + +"You're the bloomingest--" the tall man said. + +"It wasn't my fault," interrupted his companion. "If you hadn't--" He +tried to gesticulate, but one hand held to the keel of the boat, and the +other was supporting the form of the oarsman. The latter had fought a +battle with his immense rubber boots and had been conquered. + +The rescuer in the other small boat came fiercely. As his craft glided +up, he reached out and grasped the tall man by the collar and dragged +him into the boat, interrupting what was, under the circumstances, a +very brilliant flow of rhetoric directed at the freckled man. The +oarsman of the wrecked craft was taken tenderly over the gunwale and +laid in the bottom of the boat. Puffing and blowing, the freckled man +climbed in. + +"You'll upset this one before we can get ashore," the other voyager +remarked. + +As they turned toward the land they saw that the nearest dock was lined +with people. The freckled man gave a little moan. + +But the staring eyes of the crowd were fixed on the limp form of the man +in rubber boots. A hundred hands reached down to help lift the body up. +On the dock some men grabbed it and began to beat it and roll it. A +policeman tossed the spectators about. Each individual in the heaving +crowd sought to fasten his eyes on the blue-tinted face of the man in +the rubber boots. They surged to and fro, while the policeman beat them +indiscriminately. + +The wanderers came modestly up the dock and gazed shrinkingly at the +throng. They stood for a moment, holding their breath to see the first +finger of amazement levelled at them. + +But the crowd bended and surged in absorbing anxiety to view the man in +rubber boots, whose face fascinated them. The sea-wanderers were as +though they were not there. + +They stood without the jam and whispered hurriedly. + +"839," said the freckled man. + +"All right," said the tall man. + +Under the pommeling hands the oarsman showed signs of life. The voyagers +watched him make a protesting kick at the leg of the crowd, the while +uttering angry groans. + +"He's better," said the tall man, softly; "let's make off." + +Together they stole noiselessly up the dock. Directly in front of it +they found a row of six cabs. + +The drivers on top were filled with a mighty curiosity. They had driven +hurriedly from the adjacent ferry-house when they had seen the first +running sign of an accident. They were straining on their toes and +gazing at the tossing backs of the men in the crowd. + +The wanderers made a little detour, and then went rapidly towards a cab. +They stopped in front of it and looked up. + +"Driver," called the tall man, softly. + +The man was intent. + +"Driver," breathed the freckled man. They stood for a moment and gazed +imploringly. + +The cabman suddenly moved his feet. "By Jimmy, I bet he's a gonner," he +said, in an ecstacy, and he again relapsed into a statue. + +The freckled man groaned and wrung his hands. The tall man climbed into +the cab. + +"Come in here," he said to his companion. The freckled man climbed in, +and the tall man reached over and pulled the door shut. Then he put his +head out the window. + +"Driver," he roared, sternly, "839 Park Place--and quick." + +The driver looked down and met the eye of the tall man. "Eh?--Oh--839? +Park Place? Yessir." He reluctantly gave his horse a clump on the back. +As the conveyance rattled off the wanderers huddled back among the +dingy cushions and heaved great breaths of relief. + +"Well, it's all over," said the freckled man, finally. "We're about out +of it. And quicker than I expected. Much quicker. It looked to me +sometimes that we were doomed. I am thankful to find it not so. I am +rejoiced. And I hope and trust that you--well, I don't wish to--perhaps +it is not the proper time to--that is, I don't wish to intrude a moral +at an inopportune moment, but, my dear, dear fellow, I think the time is +ripe to point out to you that your obstinacy, your selfishness, your +villainous temper, and your various other faults can make it just as +unpleasant for your ownself, my dear boy, as they frequently do for +other people. You can see what you brought us to, and I most sincerely +hope, my dear, dear fellow, that I shall soon see those signs in you +which shall lead me to believe that you have become a wiser man." + + + + +THE END OF THE BATTLE + + +A sergeant, a corporal, and fourteen men of the Twelfth Regiment of the +Line had been sent out to occupy a house on the main highway. They would +be at least a half of a mile in advance of any other picket of their own +people. Sergeant Morton was deeply angry at being sent on this duty. He +said that he was over-worked. There were at least two sergeants, he +claimed furiously, whose turn it should have been to go on this arduous +mission. He was treated unfairly; he was abused by his superiors; why +did any damned fool ever join the army? As for him he would get out of +it as soon as possible; he was sick of it; the life of a dog. All this +he said to the corporal, who listened attentively, giving grunts of +respectful assent. On the way to this post two privates took occasion to +drop to the rear and pilfer in the orchard of a deserted plantation. +When the sergeant discovered this absence, he grew black with a rage +which was an accumulation of all his irritations. "Run, you!" he howled. +"Bring them here! I'll show them--" A private ran swiftly to the rear. +The remainder of the squad began to shout nervously at the two +delinquents, whose figures they could see in the deep shade of the +orchard, hurriedly picking fruit from the ground and cramming it within +their shirts, next to their skins. The beseeching cries of their +comrades stirred the criminals more than did the barking of the +sergeant. They ran to rejoin the squad, while holding their loaded +bosoms and with their mouths open with aggrieved explanations. + +Jones faced the sergeant with a horrible cancer marked in bumps on his +left side. The disease of Patterson showed quite around the front of his +waist in many protuberances. "A nice pair!" said the sergeant, with +sudden frigidity. "You're the kind of soldiers a man wants to choose for +a dangerous outpost duty, ain't you?" + +The two privates stood at attention, still looking much aggrieved. "We +only--" began Jones huskily. + +"Oh, you 'only!'" cried the sergeant. "Yes, you 'only.' I know all about +that. But if you think you are going to trifle with me--" + +A moment later the squad moved on towards its station. Behind the +sergeant's back Jones and Patterson were slyly passing apples and pears +to their friends while the sergeant expounded eloquently to the +corporal. "You see what kind of men are in the army now. Why, when I +joined the regiment it was a very different thing, I can tell you. Then +a sergeant had some authority, and if a man disobeyed orders, he had a +very small chance of escaping something extremely serious. But now! Good +God! If I report these men, the captain will look over a lot of beastly +orderly sheets and say--'Haw, eh, well, Sergeant Morton, these men seem +to have very good records; very good records, indeed. I can't be too +hard on them; no, not too hard.'" Continued the sergeant: "I tell you, +Flagler, the army is no place for a decent man." + +Flagler, the corporal, answered with a sincerity of appreciation which +with him had become a science. "I think you are right, sergeant," he +answered. + +Behind them the privates mumbled discreetly. "Damn this sergeant of +ours. He thinks we are made of wood. I don't see any reason for all this +strictness when we are on active service. It isn't like being at home in +barracks! There is no great harm in a couple of men dropping out to raid +an orchard of the enemy when all the world knows that we haven't had a +decent meal in twenty days." + +The reddened face of Sergeant Morton suddenly showed to the rear. "A +little more marching and less talking," he said. + +When he came to the house he had been ordered to occupy the sergeant +sniffed with disdain. "These people must have lived like cattle," he +said angrily. To be sure, the place was not alluring. The ground floor +had been used for the housing of cattle, and it was dark and terrible. A +flight of steps led to the lofty first floor, which was denuded but +respectable. The sergeant's visage lightened when he saw the strong +walls of stone and cement. "Unless they turn guns on us, they will never +get us out of here," he said cheerfully to the squad. The men, anxious +to keep him in an amiable mood, all hurriedly grinned and seemed very +appreciative and pleased. "I'll make this into a fortress," he +announced. He sent Jones and Patterson, the two orchard thieves, out on +sentry-duty. He worked the others, then, until he could think of no more +things to tell them to do. Afterwards he went forth, with a major- +general's serious scowl, and examined the ground in front of his +position. In returning he came upon a sentry, Jones, munching an apple. +He sternly commanded him to throw it away. + +The men spread their blankets on the floors of the bare rooms, and +putting their packs under their heads and lighting their pipes, they +lived an easy peace. Bees hummed in the garden, and a scent of flowers +came through the open window. A great fan-shaped bit of sunshine smote +the face of one man, and he indolently cursed as he moved his primitive +bed to a shadier place. + +Another private explained to a comrade: "This is all nonsense anyhow. No +sense in occupying this post. They--" + +"But, of course," said the corporal, "when she told me herself that she +cared more for me than she did for him, I wasn't going to stand any of +his talk--" The corporal's listener was so sleepy that he could only +grunt his sympathy. + +There was a sudden little spatter of shooting. A cry from Jones rang +out. With no intermediate scrambling, the sergeant leaped straight to +his feet. "Now," he cried, "let us see what you are made of! If," he +added bitterly, "you are made of anything!" + +A man yelled: "Good God, can't you see you're all tangled up in my +cartridge belt?" + +Another man yelled: "Keep off my legs! Can't you walk on the floor?" + +To the windows there was a blind rush of slumberous men, who brushed +hair from their eyes even as they made ready their rifles. Jones and +Patterson came stumbling up the steps, crying dreadful information. +Already the enemy's bullets were spitting and singing over the house. + +The sergeant suddenly was stiff and cold with a sense of the importance +of the thing. "Wait until you see one," he drawled loudly and calmly, +"then shoot." + +For some moments the enemy's bullets swung swifter than lightning over +the house without anybody being able to discover a target. In this +interval a man was shot in the throat. He gurgled, and then lay down on +the floor. The blood slowly waved down the brown skin of his neck while +he looked meekly at his comrades. + +There was a howl. "There they are! There they come!" The rifles +crackled. A light smoke drifted idly through the rooms. There was a +strong odor as if from burnt paper and the powder of firecrackers. The +men were silent. Through the windows and about the house the bullets of +an entirely invisible enemy moaned, hummed, spat, burst, and sang. + +The men began to curse. "Why can't we see them?" they muttered through +their teeth. The sergeant was still frigid. He answered soothingly as if +he were directly reprehensible for this behavior of the enemy. "Wait a +moment. You will soon be able to see them. There! Give it to them!" A +little skirt of black figures had appeared in a field. It was really +like shooting at an upright needle from the full length of a ballroom. +But the men's spirits improved as soon as the enemy--this mysterious +enemy--became a tangible thing, and far off. They had believed the foe +to be shooting at them from the adjacent garden. + +"Now," said the sergeant ambitiously, "we can beat them off easily if +you men are good enough." + +A man called out in a tone of quick, great interest. "See that fellow on +horseback, Bill? Isn't he on horseback? I thought he was on horseback." + +There was a fusilade against another side of the house. The sergeant +dashed into the room which commanded the situation. He found a dead +soldier on the floor. He rushed out howling: "When was Knowles killed? +When was Knowles killed? When was Knowles killed? Damn it, when was +Knowles killed?" It was absolutely essential to find out the exact +moment this man died. A blackened private turned upon his sergeant and +demanded: "How in hell do I know?" Sergeant Morton had a sense of anger +so brief that in the next second he cried: "Patterson!" He had even +forgotten his vital interest in the time of Knowles' death. + +"Yes?" said Patterson, his face set with some deep-rooted quality of +determination. Still, he was a mere farm boy. + +"Go in to Knowles' window and shoot at those people," said the sergeant +hoarsely. Afterwards he coughed. Some of the fumes of the fight had made +way to his lungs. + +Patterson looked at the door into this other room. He looked at it as if +he suspected it was to be his death-chamber. Then he entered and stood +across the body of Knowles and fired vigorously into a group of plum +trees. + +"They can't take this house," declared the sergeant in a contemptuous +and argumentative tone. He was apparently replying to somebody. The man +who had been shot in the throat looked up at him. Eight men were firing +from the windows. The sergeant detected in a corner three wounded men +talking together feebly. "Don't you think there is anything to do?" he +bawled. "Go and get Knowles' cartridges and give them to somebody who +can use them! Take Simpson's too." The man who had been shot in the +throat looked at him. Of the three wounded men who had been talking, one +said: "My leg is all doubled up under me, sergeant." He spoke +apologetically. + +Meantime the sergeant was re-loading his rifle. His foot slipped in the +blood of the man who had been shot in the throat, and the military boot +made a greasy red streak on the floor. + +"Why, we can hold this place!" shouted the sergeant jubilantly. "Who +says we can't?" + +Corporal Flagler suddenly spun away from his window and fell in a heap. + +"Sergeant," murmured a man as he dropped to a seat on the floor out of +danger, "I can't stand this. I swear I can't. I think we should run +away." + +Morton, with the kindly eyes of a good shepherd, looked at the man. "You +are afraid, Johnston, you are afraid," he said softly. The man struggled +to his feet, cast upon the sergeant a gaze full of admiration, reproach, +and despair, and returned to his post. A moment later he pitched +forward, and thereafter his body hung out of the window, his arms +straight and the fists clenched. Incidentally this corpse was pierced +afterwards by chance three times by bullets of the enemy. + +The sergeant laid his rifle against the stonework of the window-frame +and shot with care until his magazine was empty. Behind him a man, +simply grazed on the elbow, was wildly sobbing like a girl. "Damn it, +shut up!" said Morton, without turning his head. Before him was a vista +of a garden, fields, clumps of trees, woods, populated at the time with +little fleeting figures. + +He grew furious. "Why didn't he send me orders?" he cried aloud. The +emphasis on the word "he" was impressive. A mile back on the road a +galloper of the Hussars lay dead beside his dead horse. + +The man who had been grazed on the elbow still set up his bleat. +Morton's fury veered to this soldier. "Can't you shut up? Can't you shut +up? Can't you shut up? Fight! That's the thing to do. Fight!" + +A bullet struck Morton, and he fell upon the man who had been shot in +the throat. There was a sickening moment. Then the sergeant rolled off +to a position upon the bloody floor. He turned himself with a last +effort until he could look at the wounded who were able to look at him. + +"Kim up, the Kickers," he said thickly. His arms weakened and he dropped +on his face. + +After an interval a young subaltern of the enemy's infantry, followed by +his eager men, burst into this reeking interior. But just over the +threshold he halted before the scene of blood and death. He turned with +a shrug to his sergeant. "God, I should have estimated them at least one +hundred strong." + + + + +UPTURNED FACE + + +"What will we do now?" said the adjutant, troubled and excited. + +"Bury him," said Timothy Lean. + +The two officers looked down close to their toes where lay the body of +their comrade. The face was chalk-blue; gleaming eyes stared at the sky. +Over the two upright figures was a windy sound of bullets, and on the +top of the hill Lean's prostrate company of Spitzbergen infantry was +firing measured volleys. + +"Don't you think it would be better--" began the adjutant. "We might +leave him until tomorrow." + +"No," said Lean. "I can't hold that post an hour longer. I've got to +fall back, and we've got to bury old Bill." + +"Of course," said the adjutant, at once. "Your men got intrenching +tools?" + +Lean shouted back to his little line, and two men came slowly, one with +a pick, one with a shovel. They started in the direction of the Rostina +sharp-shooters. Bullets cracked near their ears. "Dig here," said Lean +gruffly. The men, thus caused to lower their glances to the turf, became +hurried and frightened merely because they could not look to see whence +the bullets came. The dull beat of the pick striking the earth sounded +amid the swift snap of close bullets. Presently the other private began +to shovel. + +"I suppose," said the adjutant, slowly, "we'd better search his clothes +for--things." + +Lean nodded. Together in curious abstraction they looked at the body. +Then Lean stirred his shoulders suddenly, arousing himself. + +"Yes," he said, "we'd better see what he's got." He dropped to his +knees, and his hands approached the body of the dead officer. But his +hands wavered over the buttons of the tunic. The first button was brick- +red with drying blood, and he did not seem to dare touch it. + +"Go on," said the adjutant, hoarsely. + +Lean stretched his wooden hand, and his fingers fumbled the blood- +stained buttons. At last he rose with ghastly face. He had gathered a +watch, a whistle, a pipe, a tobacco pouch, a handkerchief, a little case +of cards and papers. He looked at the adjutant. There was a silence. The +adjutant was feeling that he had been a coward to make Lean do all the +grisly business. + +"Well," said Lean, "that's all, I think. You have his sword and +revolver?" + +"Yes," said the adjutant, his face working, and then he burst out in a +sudden strange fury at the two privates. "Why don't you hurry up with +that grave? What are you doing, anyhow? Hurry, do you hear? I never saw +such stupid--" + +Even as he cried out in his passion the two men were laboring for their +lives. Ever overhead the bullets were spitting. + +The grave was finished, It was not a masterpiece--a poor little shallow +thing. Lean and the adjutant again looked at each other in a curious +silent communication. + +Suddenly the adjutant croaked out a weird laugh. It was a terrible +laugh, which had its origin in that part of the mind which is first +moved by the singing of the nerves. "Well," he said, humorously to Lean, +"I suppose we had best tumble him in." + +"Yes," said Lean. The two privates stood waiting, bent over their +implements. "I suppose," said Lean, "it would be better if we laid him +in ourselves." + +"Yes," said the adjutant. Then apparently remembering that he had made +Lean search the body, he stooped with great fortitude and took hold of +the dead officer's clothing. Lean joined him. Both were particular that +their fingers should not feel the corpse. They tugged away; the corpse +lifted, heaved, toppled, flopped into the grave, and the two officers, +straightening, looked again at each other--they were always looking at +each other. They sighed with relief. + +The adjutant said, "I suppose we should--we should say something. Do you +know the service, Tim?" + +"They don't read the service until the grave is filled in," said Lean, +pressing his lips to an academic expression. + +"Don't they?" said the adjutant, shocked that he had made the mistake. + +"Oh, well," he cried, suddenly, "let us--let us say something--while he +can hear us." + +"All right," said Lean. "Do you know the service?" + +"I can't remember a line of it," said the adjutant. + +Lean was extremely dubious. "I can repeat two lines, but--" + +"Well, do it," said the adjutant. "Go as far as you can. That's better +than nothing. And the beasts have got our range exactly." + +Lean looked at his two men. "Attention," he barked. The privates came to +attention with a click, looking much aggrieved. The adjutant lowered his +helmet to his knee. Lean, bareheaded, he stood over the grave. The +Rostina sharpshooters fired briskly. + +"Oh, Father, our friend has sunk in the deep waters of death, but his +spirit has leaped toward Thee as the bubble arises from the lips of the +drowning. Perceive, we beseech, O Father, the little flying bubble, +and--". + +Lean, although husky and ashamed, had suffered no hesitation up to this +point, but he stopped with a hopeless feeling and looked at the corpse. + +The adjutant moved uneasily. "And from Thy superb heights--" he began, +and then he too came to an end. + +"And from Thy superb heights," said Lean. + +The adjutant suddenly remembered a phrase in the back part of the +Spitzbergen burial service, and he exploited it with the triumphant +manner of a man who has recalled everything, and can go on. + +"Oh, God, have mercy--" + +"Oh, God, have mercy--" said Lean. + +"Mercy," repeated the adjutant, in quick failure. + +"Mercy," said Lean. And then he was moved by some violence of feeling, +for he turned suddenly upon his two men and tigerishly said, "Throw the +dirt in." + +The fire of the Rostina sharpshooters was accurate and continuous. + + * * * * * + +One of the aggrieved privates came forward with his shovel. He lifted +his first shovel-load of earth, and for a moment of inexplicable +hesitation it was held poised above this corpse, which from its chalk- +blue face looked keenly out from the grave. Then the soldier emptied his +shovel on--on the feet. + +Timothy Lean felt as if tons had been swiftly lifted from off his +forehead. He had felt that perhaps the private might empty the shovel +on--on the face. It had been emptied on the feet. There was a great +point gained there--ha, ha!--the first shovelful had been emptied on +the feet. How satisfactory! + +The adjutant began to babble. "Well, of course--a man we've messed with +all these years--impossible--you can't, you know, leave your intimate +friends rotting on the field. Go on, for God's sake, and shovel, you!" + +The man with the shovel suddenly ducked, grabbed his left arm with his +right hand, and looked at his officer for orders. Lean picked the shovel +from the ground. "Go to the rear," he said to the wounded man. He also +addressed the other private. "You get under cover, too; I'll finish this +business." + +The wounded man scrambled hard still for the top of the ridge without +devoting any glances to the direction whence the bullets came, and the +other man followed at an equal pace; but he was different, in that he +looked back anxiously three times. + +This is merely the way--often--of the hit and unhit. + +Timothy Lean filled the shovel, hesitated, and then in a movement which +was like a gesture of abhorrence he flung the dirt into the grave, and +as it landed it made a sound--plop! Lean suddenly stopped and mopped his +brow--a tired laborer. + +"Perhaps we have been wrong," said the adjutant. His glance wavered +stupidly. "It might have been better if we hadn't buried him just at +this time. Of course, if we advance to-morrow the body would have +been--" + +"Damn you," said Lean, "shut your mouth!" He was not the senior officer. + +He again filled the shovel and flung the earth. Always the earth made +that sound--plop! For a space Lean worked frantically, like a man +digging himself out of danger. + +Soon there was nothing to be seen but the chalk-blue face. Lean filled +the shovel. "Good God," he cried to the adjutant. "Why didn't you turn +him somehow when you put him in? This--" Then Lean began to stutter. + +The adjutant understood. He was pale to the lips. "Go on, man," he +cried, beseechingly, almost in a shout. Lean swung back the shovel. It +went forward in a pendulum curve. When the earth landed it made a sound +--plop! + + + + +AN EPISODE OF WAR + + +The lieutenant's rubber blanket lay on the ground, and upon it he had +poured the company's supply of coffee. Corporals and other +representatives of the grimy and hot-throated men who lined the +breastwork had come for each squad's portion. + +The lieutenant was frowning and serious at this task of division. His +lips pursed as he drew with his sword various crevices in the heap until +brown squares of coffee, astoundingly equal in size, appeared on the +blanket. He was on the verge of a great triumph in mathematics, and the +corporals were thronging forward, each to reap a little square, when +suddenly the lieutenant cried out and looked quickly at a man near him +as if he suspected it was a case of personal assault. The others cried +out also when they saw blood upon the lieutenant's sleeve. + +He had winced like a man stung, swayed dangerously, and then +straightened. The sound of his hoarse breathing was plainly audible. He +looked sadly, mystically, over the breastwork at the green face of a +wood, where now were many little puffs of white smoke. During this +moment the men about him gazed statue-like and silent, astonished and +awed by this catastrophe which happened when catastrophes were not +expected--when they had leisure to observe it. + +As the lieutenant stared at the wood, they too swung their heads, so +that for another instant all hands, still silent, contemplated the +distant forest as if their minds were fixed upon the mystery of a +bullet's journey. + +The officer had, of course, been compelled to take his sword into his +left hand. He did not hold it by the hilt. He gripped it at the middle +of the blade, awkwardly. Turning his eyes from the hostile wood, he +looked at the sword as he held it there, and seemed puzzled as to what +to do with it, where to put it. In short, this weapon had of a sudden +become a strange thing to him. He looked at it in a kind of +stupefaction, as if he had been endowed with a trident, a sceptre, or a +spade. + +Finally he tried to sheath it. To sheath a sword held by the left hand, +at the middle of the blade, in a scabbard hung at the left hip, is a +feat worthy of a sawdust ring. This wounded officer engaged in a +desperate struggle with the sword and the wobbling scabbard, and during +the time of it he breathed like a wrestler. + +But at this instant the men, the spectators, awoke from their stone-like +poses and crowded forward sympathetically. The orderly-sergeant took the +sword and tenderly placed it in the scabbard. At the time, he leaned +nervously backward, and did not allow even his finger to brush the body +of the lieutenant. A wound gives strange dignity to him who bears it. +Well men shy from this new and terrible majesty. It is as if the wounded +man's hand is upon the curtain which hangs before the revelations of all +existence--the meaning of ants, potentates, wars, cities, sunshine, +snow, a feather dropped from a bird's wing; and the power of it sheds +radiance upon a bloody form, and makes the other men understand +sometimes that they are little. His comrades look at him with large eyes +thoughtfully. Moreover, they fear vaguely that the weight of a finger +upon him might send him headlong, precipitate the tragedy, hurl him at +once into the dim, grey unknown. And so the orderly-sergeant, while +sheathing the sword, leaned nervously backward. + +There were others who proffered assistance. One timidly presented his +shoulder and asked the lieutenant if he cared to lean upon it, but the +latter waved him away mournfully. He wore the look of one who knows he +is the victim of a terrible disease and understands his helplessness. He +again stared over the breastwork at the forest, and then turning went +slowly rearward. He held his right wrist tenderly in his left hand as if +the wounded arm was made of very brittle glass. + +And the men in silence stared at the wood, then at the departing +lieutenant--then at the wood, then at the lieutenant. + +As the wounded officer passed from the line of battle, he was enabled to +see many things which as a participant in the fight were unknown to him. +He saw a general on a black horse gazing over the lines of blue infantry +at the green woods which veiled his problems. An aide galloped +furiously, dragged his horse suddenly to a halt, saluted, and presented +a paper. It was, for a wonder, precisely like an historical painting. + +To the rear of the general and his staff a group, composed of a bugler, +two or three orderlies, and the bearer of the corps standard, all upon +maniacal horses, were working like slaves to hold their ground, +preserve, their respectful interval, while the shells boomed in the air +about them, and caused their chargers to make furious quivering leaps. + +A battery, a tumultuous and shining mass, was swirling toward the right. +The wild thud of hoofs, the cries of the riders shouting blame and +praise, menace and encouragement, and, last the roar of the wheels, the +slant of the glistening guns, brought the lieutenant to an intent pause. +The battery swept in curves that stirred the heart; it made halts as +dramatic as the crash of a wave on the rocks, and when it fled onward, +this aggregation of wheels, levers, motors, had a beautiful unity, as if +it were a missile. The sound of it was a war-chorus that reached into +the depths of man's emotion. + +The lieutenant, still holding his arm as if it were of glass, stood +watching this battery until all detail of it was lost, save the figures +of the riders, which rose and fell and waved lashes over the black mass. + +Later, he turned his eyes toward the battle where the shooting sometimes +crackled like bush-fires, sometimes sputtered with exasperating +irregularity, and sometimes reverberated like the thunder. He saw the +smoke rolling upward and saw crowds of men who ran and cheered, or stood +and blazed away at the inscrutable distance. + +He came upon some stragglers, and they told him how to find the field +hospital. They described its exact location. In fact, these men, no +longer having part in the battle, knew more of it than others. They told +the performance of every corps, every division, the opinion of every +general. The lieutenant, carrying his wounded arm rearward, looked upon +them with wonder. + +At the roadside a brigade was making coffee and buzzing with talk like a +girls' boarding-school. Several officers came out to him and inquired +concerning things of which he knew nothing. One, seeing his arm, began +to scold. "Why, man, that's no way to do. You want to fix that thing." +He appropriated the lieutenant and the lieutenant's wound. He cut the +sleeve and laid bare the arm, every nerve of which softly fluttered +under his touch. He bound his handkerchief over the wound, scolding away +in the meantime. His tone allowed one to think that he was in the habit +of being wounded every day. The lieutenant hung his head, feeling, in +this presence, that he did not know how to be correctly wounded. + +The low white tents of the hospital were grouped around an old school- +house. There was here a singular commotion. In the foreground two +ambulances interlocked wheels in the deep mud. The drivers were tossing +the blame of it back and forth, gesticulating and berating, while from +the ambulances, both crammed with wounded, there came an occasional +groan. An interminable crowd of bandaged men were coming and going. +Great numbers sat under the trees nursing heads or arms or legs. There +was a dispute of some kind raging on the steps of the school-house. +Sitting with his back against a tree a man with a face as grey as a new +army blanket was serenely smoking a corn-cob pipe. The lieutenant wished +to rush forward and inform him that he was dying. + +A busy surgeon was passing near the lieutenant. "Good-morning," he said, +with a friendly smile. Then he caught sight of the lieutenant's arm and +his face at once changed. "Well, let's have a look at it." He seemed +possessed suddenly of a great contempt for the lieutenant. This wound +evidently placed the latter on a very low social plane. The doctor cried +out impatiently, "What mutton-head had tied it up that way anyhow?" The +lieutenant answered, "Oh, a man." + +When the wound was disclosed the doctor fingered it disdainfully. +"Humph," he said. "You come along with me and I'll 'tend to you." His +voice contained the same scorn as if he were saying, "You will have to +go to jail." + +The lieutenant had been very meek, but now his face flushed, and he +looked into the doctor's eyes. "I guess I won't have it amputated," he +said. + +"Nonsense, man! Nonsense! Nonsense!" cried the doctor. "Come along, now. +I won't amputate it. Come along. Don't be a baby." + +"Let go of me," said the lieutenant, holding back wrathfully, his glance +fixed upon the door of the old school-house, as sinister to him as the +portals of death. + +And this is the story of how the lieutenant lost his arm. When he +reached home, his sisters, his mother, his wife sobbed for a long time +at the sight of the flat sleeve. "Oh, well," he said, standing +shamefaced amid these tears, "I don't suppose it matters so much as all +that." + + + + +AN EXPERIMENT IN MISERY + + +It was late at night, and a fine rain was swirling softly down, causing +the pavements to glisten with hue of steel and blue and yellow in the +rays of the innumerable lights. A youth was trudging slowly, without +enthusiasm, with his hands buried deep in his trousers' pockets, toward +the downtown places where beds can be hired for coppers. He was clothed +in an aged and tattered suit, and his derby was a marvel of dust-covered +crown and torn rim. He was going forth to eat as the wanderer may eat, +and sleep as the homeless sleep. By the time he had reached City Hall +Park he was so completely plastered with yells of "bum" and "hobo," and +with various unholy epithets that small boys had applied to him at +intervals, that he was in a state of the most profound dejection. The +sifting rain saturated the old velvet collar of his overcoat, and as the +wet cloth pressed against his neck, he felt that there no longer could +be pleasure in life. He looked about him searching for an outcast of +highest degree that they too might share miseries, but the lights threw +a quivering glare over rows and circles of deserted benches that +glistened damply, showing patches of wet sod behind them. It seemed that +their usual freights had fled on this night to better things. There were +only squads of well-dressed Brooklyn people who swarmed towards the +bridge. + +The young man loitered about for a time and then went shuffling off down +Park Row. In the sudden descent in style of the dress of the crowd he +felt relief, and as if he were at last in his own country. He began to +see tatters that matched his tatters. In Chatham Square there were +aimless men strewn in front of saloons and lodging-houses, standing +sadly, patiently, reminding one vaguely of the attitudes of chickens in +a storm. He aligned himself with these men, and turned slowly to occupy +himself with the flowing life of the great street. + +Through the mists of the cold and storming night, the cable cars went in +silent procession, great affairs shining with red and brass, moving with +formidable power, calm and irresistible, dangerful and gloomy, breaking +silence only by the loud fierce cry of the gong. Two rivers of people +swarmed along the sidewalks, spattered with black mud, which made each +shoe leave a scarlike impression. Overhead elevated trains with a shrill +grinding of the wheels stopped at the station, which upon its leglike +pillars seemed to resemble some monstrous kind of crab squatting over +the street. The quick fat puffings of the engines could be heard. Down +an alley there were somber curtains of purple and black, on which street +lamps dully glittered like embroidered flowers. + +A saloon stood with a voracious air on a corner. A sign leaning against +the front of the door-post announced "Free hot soup to-night!" The swing +doors, snapping to and fro like ravenous lips, made gratified smacks as +the saloon gorged itself with plump men, eating with astounding and +endless appetite, smiling in some indescribable manner as the men came +from all directions like sacrifices to a heathenish superstition. + +Caught by the delectable sign the young man allowed himself to be +swallowed. A bartender placed a schooner of dark and portentous beer on +the bar. Its monumental form upreared until the froth a-top was above +the crown of the young man's brown derby. + +"Soup over there, gents," said the bartender affably. A little yellow +man in rags and the youth grasped their schooners and went with speed +toward a lunch counter, where a man with oily but imposing whiskers +ladled genially from a kettle until he had furnished his two mendicants +with a soup that was steaming hot, and in which there were little +floating suggestions of chicken. The young man, sipping his broth, felt +the cordiality expressed by the warmth of the mixture, and he beamed at +the man with oily but imposing whiskers, who was presiding like a priest +behind an altar. "Have some more, gents?" he inquired of the two sorry +figures before him. The little yellow man accepted with a swift gesture, +but the youth shook his head and went out, following a man whose +wondrous seediness promised that he would have a knowledge of cheap +lodging-houses. + +On the sidewalk he accosted the seedy man. "Say, do you know a cheap +place to sleep?" + +The other hesitated for a time, gazing sideways. Finally he nodded in +the direction of the street, "I sleep up there," he said, "when I've got +the price." + +"How much?" + +"Ten cents." + The young man shook his head dolefully. "That's too rich for me." + +At that moment there approached the two a reeling man in strange +garments. His head was a fuddle of bushy hair and whiskers, from which +his eyes peered with a guilty slant. In a close scrutiny it was possible +to distinguish the cruel lines of a mouth which looked as if its lips +had just closed with satisfaction over some tender and piteous morsel. +He appeared like an assassin steeped in crimes performed awkwardly. + +But at this time his voice was tuned to the coaxing key of an +affectionate puppy. He looked at the men with wheedling eyes, and began +to sing a little melody for charity. + +"Say, gents, can't yeh give a poor feller a couple of cents t' git a +bed? I got five, and I gits anudder two I gits me a bed. Now, on th' +square, gents, can't yeh jest gimme two cents t' git a bed? Now, yeh +know how a respecter'ble gentlem'n feels when he's down on his luck, an' +I--" + +The seedy man, staring with imperturbable countenance at a train which +clattered overhead, interrupted in an expressionless voice--"Ah, go t' +h----!" + +But the youth spoke to the prayerful assassin in tones of astonishment +and inquiry. "Say, you must be crazy! Why don't yeh strike somebody that +looks as if they had money?" + +The assassin, tottering about on his uncertain legs, and at intervals +brushing imaginary obstacles from before his nose, entered into a long +explanation of the psychology of the situation. It was so profound that +it was unintelligible. + +When he had exhausted the subject, the young man said to him: + +"Let's see th' five cents." + +The assassin wore an expression of drunken woe at this sentence, filled +with suspicion of him. With a deeply pained air he began to fumble in +his clothing, his red hands trembling. Presently he announced in a voice +of bitter grief, as if he had been betrayed--"There's on'y four." + +"Four," said the young man thoughtfully. "Well, look here, I'm a +stranger here, an' if ye'll steer me to your cheap joint I'll find the +other three." + +The assassin's countenance became instantly radiant with joy. His +whiskers quivered with the wealth of his alleged emotions. He seized the +young man's hand in a transport of delight and friendliness. + +"B' Gawd," he cried, "if ye'll do that, b' Gawd, I'd say yeh was a +damned good fellow, I would, an' I'd remember yeh all m' life, I would, +b' Gawd, an' if I ever got a chance I'd return the compliment"--he spoke +with drunken dignity--"b' Gawd, I'd treat yeh white, I would, an' I'd +allus remember yeh." + +The young man drew back, looking at the assassin coldly. "Oh, that's all +right," he said. "You show me th' joint--that's all you've got t' do." + +The assassin, gesticulating gratitude, led the young man along a dark +street. Finally he stopped before a little dusty door. He raised his +hand impressively. "Look-a-here," he said, and there was a thrill of +deep and ancient wisdom upon his face, "I've brought yeh here, an' +that's my part, ain't it? If th' place don't suit yeh, yeh needn't git +mad at me, need yeh? There won't be no bad feelin', will there?" + +"No," said the young man. + +The assassin waved his arm tragically, and led the march up the steep +stairway. On the way the young man furnished the assassin with three +pennies. At the top a man with benevolent spectacles looked at them +through a hole in a board. He collected their money, wrote some names on +a register, and speedily was leading the two men along a gloom-shrouded +corridor. + +Shortly after the beginning of this journey the young man felt his liver +turn white, for from the dark and secret places of the building there +suddenly came to his nostrils strange and unspeakable odors, that +assailed him like malignant diseases with wings. They seemed to be from +human bodies closely packed in dens; the exhalations from a hundred +pairs of reeking lips; the fumes from a thousand bygone debauches; the +expression of a thousand present miseries. + +A man, naked save for a little snuff-colored undershirt, was parading +sleepily along the corridor. He rubbed his eyes, and, giving vent to a +prodigious yawn, demanded to be told the time. + +"Half-past one." + +The man yawned again. He opened a door, and for a moment his form was +outlined against a black, opaque interior. To this door came the three +men, and as it was again opened the unholy odors rushed out like fiends, +so that the young man was obliged to struggle as against an overpowering +wind. + +It was some time before the youth's eyes were good in the intense gloom +within, but the man with benevolent spectacles led him skilfully, +pausing but a moment to deposit the limp assassin upon a cot. He took +the youth to a cot that lay tranquilly by the window, and showing him a +tall locker for clothes that stood near the head with the ominous air of +a tombstone, left him. + +The youth sat on his cot and peered about him. There was a gas-jet in a +distant part of the room, that burned a small flickering orange-hued +flame. It caused vast masses of tumbled shadows in all parts of the +place, save where, immediately about it, there was a little grey haze. +As the young man's eyes became used to the darkness, he could see upon +the cots that thickly littered the floor the forms of men sprawled out, +lying in deathlike silence, or heaving and snoring with tremendous +effort, like stabbed fish. + +The youth locked his derby and his shoes in the mummy case near him, and +then lay down with an old and familiar coat around his shoulders. A +blanket he handed gingerly, drawing it over part of the coat. The cot +was covered with leather, and as cold as melting snow. The youth was +obliged to shiver for some time on this affair, which was like a slab. +Presently, however, his chill gave him peace, and during this period of +leisure from it he turned his head to stare at his friend the assassin, +whom he could dimly discern where he lay sprawled on a cot in the +abandon of a man filled with drink. He was snoring with incredible +vigor. His wet hair and beard dimly glistened, and his inflamed nose +shone with subdued lustre like a red light in a fog. + +Within reach of the youth's hand was one who lay with yellow breast and +shoulders bare to the cold drafts. One arm hung over the side of the +cot, and the fingers lay full length upon the wet cement floor of the +room. Beneath the inky brows could be seen the eyes of the man exposed +by the partly opened lids. To the youth it seemed that he and this +corpse-like being were exchanging a prolonged stare, and that the other +threatened with his eyes. He drew back, watching his neighbor from the +shadows of his blanket edge. The man did not move once through the +night, but lay in this stillness as of death like a body stretched out +expectant of the surgeon's knife. + +And all through the room could be seen the tawny hues of naked flesh, +limbs thrust into the darkness, projecting beyond the cots; upreared +knees, arms hanging long and thin over the cot edges. For the most part +they were statuesque, carven, dead. With the curious lockers standing +all about like tombstones, there was a strange effect of a graveyard +where bodies were merely flung. + +Yet occasionally could be seen limbs wildly tossing in fantastic +nightmare gestures, accompanied by guttural cries, grunts, oaths. And +there was one fellow off in a gloomy corner, who in his dreams was +oppressed by some frightful calamity, for of a sudden he began to utter +long wails that went almost like yells from a hound, echoing wailfully +and weird through this chill place of tombstones where men lay like the +dead. + +The sound in its high piercing beginnings, that dwindled to final +melancholy moans, expressed a red and grim tragedy of the unfathomable +possibilities of the man's dreams. But to the youth these were not +merely the shrieks of a vision-pierced man: they were an utterance of +the meaning of the room and its occupants. It was to him the protest of +the wretch who feels the touch of the imperturbable granite wheels, and +who then cries with an impersonal eloquence, with a strength not from +him, giving voice to the wail of a whole section, a class, a people. +This, weaving into the young man's brain, and mingling with his views of +the vast and sombre shadows that, like mighty black fingers, curled +around the naked bodies, made the young man so that he did not sleep, +but lay carving the biographies for these men from his meagre +experience. At times the fellow in the corner howled in a writhing agony +of his imaginations. + +Finally a long lance-point of grey light shot through the dusty panes of +the window. Without, the young man could see roofs drearily white in the +dawning. The point of light yellowed and grew brighter, until the golden +rays of the morning sun came in bravely and strong. They touched with +radiant color the form of a small fat man, who snored in stuttering +fashion. His round and shiny bald head glowed suddenly with the valor of +a decoration. He sat up, blinked at the sun, swore fretfully, and pulled +his blanket over the ornamental splendors of his head. + +The youth contentedly watched this rout of the shadows before the bright +spears of the sun, and presently he slumbered. When he awoke he heard +the voice of the assassin raised in valiant curses. Putting up his head, +he perceived his comrade seated on the side of the cot engaged in +scratching his neck with long finger-nails that rasped like files. + +"Hully Jee, dis is a new breed. They've got can-openers on their feet." +He continued in a violent tirade. + +The young man hastily unlocked his closet and took out his shoes and +hat. As he sat on the side of the cot lacing his shoes, he glanced about +and saw that daylight had made the room comparatively commonplace and +uninteresting. The men, whose faces seemed stolid, serene or absent, +were engaged in dressing, while a great crackle of bantering +conversation arose. + +A few were parading in unconcerned nakedness. Here and there were men of +brawn, whose skins shone clear and ruddy. They took splendid poses, +standing massively like chiefs. When they had dressed in their ungainly +garments there was an extraordinary change. They then showed bumps and +deficiencies of all kinds. + +There were others who exhibited many deformities. Shoulders were +slanting, humped, pulled this way and pulled that way. And notable among +these latter men was the little fat man who had refused to allow his +head to be glorified. His pudgy form, builded like a pear, bustled to +and fro, while he swore in fishwife fashion. It appeared that some +article of his apparel had vanished. + +The young man attired speedily, and went to his friend the assassin. At +first the latter looked dazed at the sight of the youth. This face +seemed to be appealing to him through the cloud wastes of his memory. He +scratched his neck and reflected. At last he grinned, a broad smile +gradually spreading until his countenance was a round illumination. +"Hello, Willie," he cried cheerily. + +"Hello," said the young man. "Are yeh ready t' fly?" + +"Sure." The assassin tied his shoe carefully with some twine and came +ambling. + +When he reached the street the young man experienced no sudden relief +from unholy atmospheres. He had forgotten all about them, and had been +breathing naturally, and with no sensation of discomfort or distress. + +He was thinking of these things as he walked along the street, when he +was suddenly startled by feeling the assassin's hand, trembling with +excitement, clutching his arm, and when the assassin spoke, his voice +went into quavers from a supreme agitation. + +"I'll be hully, bloomin' blowed if there wasn't a feller with a +nightshirt on up there in that joint." + +The youth was bewildered for a moment, but presently he turned to smile +indulgently at the assassin's humor. + +"Oh, you're a d--d liar," he merely said. + +Whereupon the assassin began to gesture extravagantly, and take oath by +strange gods. He frantically placed himself at the mercy of remarkable +fates if his tale were not true. + +"Yes, he did! I cross m' heart thousan' times!" he protested, and at the +moment his eyes were large with amazement, his mouth wrinkled in +unnatural glee. + +"Yessir! A nightshirt! A hully white nightshirt!" + +"You lie!" + +"No, sir! I hope ter die b'fore I kin git anudder ball if there wasn't a +jay wid a hully, bloomin' white nightshirt!" + +His face was filled with the infinite wonder of it. "A hully white +nightshirt," he continually repeated. + +The young man saw the dark entrance to a basement restaurant. There was +a sign which read "No mystery about our hash"! and there were other age- +stained and world-battered legends which told him that the place was +within his means. He stopped before it and spoke to the assassin. "I +guess I'll git somethin' t' eat." + +At this the assassin, for some reason, appeared to be quite embarrassed. +He gazed at the seductive front of the eating place for a moment. Then +he started slowly up the street. "Well, good-bye, Willie," he said +bravely. + +For an instant the youth studied the departing figure. Then he called +out, "Hol' on a minnet." As they came together he spoke in a certain +fierce way, as if he feared that the other would think him to be +charitable. "Look-a-here, if yeh wanta git some breakfas' I'll lend yeh +three cents t' do it with. But say, look-a-here, you've gota git out an' +hustle. I ain't goin' t' support yeh, or I'll go broke b'fore night. I +ain't no millionaire." + +"I take me oath, Willie," said the assassin earnestly, "th' on'y thing I +really needs is a ball. Me t'roat feels like a fryin'-pan. But as I +can't get a ball, why, th' next bes' thing is breakfast, an' if yeh do +that for me, b'Gawd, I say yeh was th' whitest lad I ever see." + +They spent a few moments in dexterous exchanges of phrases, in which +they each protested that the other was, as the assassin had originally +said, "a respecter'ble gentlem'n." And they concluded with mutual +assurances that they were the souls of intelligence and virtue. Then +they went into the restaurant. + +There was a long counter, dimly lighted from hidden sources. Two or +three men in soiled white aprons rushed here and there. + +The youth bought a bowl of coffee for two cents and a roll for one cent. +The assassin purchased the same. The bowls were webbed with brown seams, +and the tin spoons wore an air of having emerged from the first pyramid. +Upon them were black mosslike encrustations of age, and they were bent +and scarred from the attacks of long-forgotten teeth. But over their +repast the wanderers waxed warm and mellow. The assassin grew affable as +the hot mixture went soothingly down his parched throat, and the young +man felt courage flow in his veins. + +Memories began to throng in on the assassin, and he brought forth long +tales, intricate, incoherent, delivered with a chattering swiftness as +from an old woman. "--great job out'n Orange. Boss keep yeh hustlin' +though all time. I was there three days, and then I went an' ask 'im t' +lend me a dollar. 'G-g-go ter the devil,' he ses, an' I lose me job." + +"South no good. Damn niggers work for twenty-five an' thirty cents a +day. Run white man out. Good grub, though. Easy livin'." + +"Yas; useter work little in Toledo, raftin' logs. Make two or three +dollars er day in the spring. Lived high. Cold as ice, though, in the +winter." + +"I was raised in northern N'York. O-a-ah, yeh jest oughto live there. No +beer ner whisky, though, way off in the woods. But all th' good hot grub +yeh can eat. B'Gawd, I hung around there long as I could till th' ol' +man fired me. 'Git t' hell outa here, yeh wuthless skunk, git t' hell +outa here, an' go die,' he ses. 'You're a hell of a father,' I ses, 'you +are,' an' I quit 'im." + +As they were passing from the dim eating place, they encountered an old +man who was trying to steal forth with a tiny package of food, but a +tall man with an indomitable moustache stood dragon fashion, barring the +way of escape. They heard the old man raise a plaintive protest. "Ah, +you always want to know what I take out, and you never see that I +usually bring a package in here from my place of business." + +As the wanderers trudged slowly along Park Row, the assassin began to +expand and grow blithe. "B'Gawd, we've been livin' like kings," he said, +smacking appreciative lips. + +"Look out, or we'll have t' pay fer it t'night," said the youth with +gloomy warning. + +But the assassin refused to turn his gaze toward the future. He went +with a limping step, into which he injected a suggestion of lamblike +gambols. His mouth was wreathed in a red grin. + +In the City Hall Park the two wanderers sat down in the little circle of +benches sanctified by traditions of their class. They huddled in their +old garments, slumbrously conscious of the march of the hours which for +them had no meaning. + +The people of the street hurrying hither and thither made a blend of +black figures changing yet frieze-like. They walked in their good +clothes as upon important missions, giving no gaze to the two wanderers +seated upon the benches. They expressed to the young man his infinite +distance from all that he valued. Social position, comfort, the +pleasures of living, were unconquerable kingdoms. He felt a sudden awe. + +And in the background a multitude of buildings, of pitiless hues and +sternly high, were to him emblematic of a nation forcing its regal head +into the clouds, throwing no downward glances; in the sublimity of its +aspirations ignoring the wretches who may flounder at its feet. The roar +of the city in his ear was to him the confusion of strange tongues, +babbling heedlessly; it was the clink of coin, the voice if the city's +hopes which were to him no hopes. + +He confessed himself an outcast, and his eyes from under the lowered rim +of his hat began to glance guiltily, wearing the criminal expression +that comes with certain convictions. + + + + +THE DUEL THAT WAS NOT FOUGHT + + +Patsy Tulligan was not as wise as seven owls, but his courage could +throw a shadow as long as the steeple of a cathedral. There were men on +Cherry Street who had whipped him five times, but they all knew that +Patsy would be as ready for the sixth time as if nothing had happened. + +Once he and two friends had been away up on Eighth Avenue, far out of +their country, and upon their return journey that evening they stopped +frequently in saloons until they were as independent of their +surroundings as eagles, and cared much less about thirty days on +Blackwell's. + +On Lower Sixth Avenue they paused in a saloon where there was a good +deal of lamp-glare and polished wood to be seen from the outside, and +within, the mellow light shone on much furbished brass and more polished +wood. It was a better saloon than they were in the habit of seeing, but +they did not mind it. They sat down at one of the little tables that +were in a row parallel to the bar and ordered beer. They blinked +stolidly at the decorations, the bartender, and the other customers. +When anything transpired they discussed it with dazzling frankness, and +what they said of it was as free as air to the other people in the +place. + +At midnight there were few people in the saloon. Patsy and his friends +still sat drinking. Two well-dressed men were at another table, smoking +cigars slowly and swinging back in their chairs. They occupied +themselves with themselves in the usual manner, never betraying by a +wink of an eyelid that they knew that other folk existed. At another +table directly behind Patsy and his companions was a slim little Cuban, +with miraculously small feet and hands, and with a youthful touch of +down upon his lip. As he lifted his cigarette from time to time his +little finger was bended in dainty fashion, and there was a green flash +when a huge emerald ring caught the light. The bartender came often with +his little brass tray. Occasionally Patsy and his two friends +quarrelled. + +Once this little Cuban happened to make some slight noise and Patsy +turned his head to observe him. Then Patsy made a careless and rather +loud comment to his two friends. He used a word which is no more than +passing the time of day down in Cherry Street, but to the Cuban it was a +dagger-point. There was a harsh scraping sound as a chair was pushed +swiftly back. + +The little Cuban was upon his feet. His eyes were shining with a rage +that flashed there like sparks as he glared at Patsy. His olive face had +turned a shade of grey from his anger. Withal his chest was thrust out +in portentous dignity, and his hand, still grasping his wine-glass, was +cool and steady, the little finger still bended, the great emerald +gleaming upon it. The others, motionless, stared at him. + +"Sir," he began ceremoniously. He spoke gravely and in a slow way, his +tone coming in a marvel of self-possessed cadences from between those +lips which quivered with wrath. "You have insult me. You are a dog, a +hound, a cur. I spit upon you. I must have some of your blood." + +Patsy looked at him over his shoulder. + +"What's th' matter wi' che?" he demanded. He did not quite understand +the words of this little man who glared at him steadily, but he knew +that it was something about fighting. He snarled with the readiness of +his class and heaved his shoulders contemptuously. "Ah, what's eatin' +yeh? Take a walk! You hain't got nothin' t' do with me, have yeh? Well, +den, go sit on yerself." + +And his companions leaned back valorously in their chairs, and +scrutinized this slim young fellow who was addressing Patsy. + +"What's de little Dago chewin' about?" + +"He wants t' scrap!" + +"What!" + +The Cuban listened with apparent composure. It was only when they +laughed that his body cringed as if he was receiving lashes. Presently +he put down his glass and walked over to their table. He proceeded +always with the most impressive deliberation. + +"Sir," he began again. "You have insult me. I must have s-s-satisfac- +shone. I must have your body upon the point of my sword. In my country +you would already be dead. I must have s-s-satisfac-shone." + +Patsy had looked at the Cuban with a trifle of bewilderment. But at last +his face began to grow dark with belligerency, his mouth curved in that +wide sneer with which he would confront an angel of darkness. He arose +suddenly in his seat and came towards the little Cuban. He was going to +be impressive too. + +"Say, young feller, if yeh go shootin' off yer face at me, I'll wipe d' +joint wid yeh. What'cher gaffin' about, hey? Are yeh givin' me er jolly? +Say, if yeh pick me up fer a cinch, I'll fool yeh. Dat's what! Don't +take me fer no dead easy mug." And as he glowered at the little Cuban, +he ended his oration with one eloquent word, "Nit!" + +The bartender nervously polished his bar with a towel, and kept his eyes +fastened upon the men. Occasionally he became transfixed with interest, +leaning forward with one hand upon the edge of the bar and the other +holding the towel grabbed in a lump, as if he had been turned into +bronze when in the very act of polishing. + +The Cuban did not move when Patsy came toward him and delivered his +oration. At its conclusion he turned his livid face toward where, above +him, Patsy was swaggering and heaving his shoulders in a consummate +display of bravery and readiness. The Cuban, in his clear, tense tones, +spoke one word. It was the bitter insult. It seemed fairly to spin from +his lips and crackle in the air like breaking glass. + +Every man save the little Cuban made an electric movement. Patsy roared +a black oath and thrust himself forward until he towered almost directly +above the other man. His fists were doubled into knots of bone and hard +flesh. The Cuban had raised a steady finger. + +"If you touch me wis your hand, I will keel you." + +The two well-dressed men had come swiftly, uttering protesting cries. +They suddenly intervened in this second of time in which Patsy had +sprung forward and the Cuban had uttered his threat. The four men were +now a tossing, arguing; violent group, one well-dressed man lecturing +the Cuban, and the other holding off Patsy, who was now wild with rage, +loudly repeating the Cuban's threat, and maneuvering and struggling to +get at him for revenge's sake. + +The bartender, feverishly scouring away with his towel, and at times +pacing to and fro with nervous and excited tread, shouted out-- + +"Say, for heaven's sake, don't fight in here. If yeh wanta fight, go out +in the street and fight all yeh please. But don't fight in here." + +Patsy knew one only thing, and this he kept repeating: + +"Well, he wants t' scrap! I didn't begin dis! He wants t' scrap." + +The well-dressed man confronting him continually replied-- + +"Oh, well, now, look here, he's only a lad. He don't know what he's +doing. He's crazy mad. You wouldn't slug a kid like that." + +Patsy and his aroused companions, who cursed and growled, were +persistent with their argument. "Well, he wants t' scrap!" The whole +affair was as plain as daylight when one saw this great fact. The +interference and intolerable discussion brought the three of them +forward, battleful and fierce. + +"What's eatin' you, anyhow?" they demanded. "Dis ain't your business, is +it? What business you got shootin' off your face?" + +The other peacemaker was trying to restrain the little Cuban, who had +grown shrill and violent. + +"If he touch me wis his hand I will keel him. We must fight like +gentlemen or else I keel him when he touch me wis his hand." + +The man who was fending off Patsy comprehended these sentences that were +screamed behind his back, and he explained to Patsy. + +"But he wants to fight you with swords. With swords, you know." + +The Cuban, dodging around the peacemakers, yelled in Patsy's face-- + +"Ah, if I could get you before me wis my sword! Ah! Ah! A-a-ah!" Patsy +made a furious blow with a swift fist, but the peacemakers bucked +against his body suddenly like football players. + +Patsy was greatly puzzled. He continued doggedly to try to get near +enough to the Cuban to punch him. To these attempts the Cuban replied +savagely-- + +"If you touch me wis your hand, I will cut your heart in two piece." + +At last Patsy said--"Well, if he's so dead stuck on fightin' wid swords, +I'll fight 'im. Soitenly! I'll fight 'im." All this palaver had +evidently tired him, and he now puffed out his lips with the air of a +man who is willing to submit to any conditions if he can only bring on +the row soon enough. He swaggered, "I'll fight 'im wid swords. Let 'im +bring on his swords, an' I'll fight 'im 'til he's ready t' quit." + +The two well-dressed men grinned. "Why, look here," they said to Patsy, +"he'd punch you full of holes. Why he's a fencer. You can't fight him +with swords. He'd kill you in 'bout a minute." + +"Well, I'll giv' 'im a go at it, anyhow," said Patsy, stouthearted and +resolute. "I'll giv' 'im a go at it, anyhow, an' I'll stay wid 'im as +long as I kin." + +As for the Cuban, his lithe body was quivering in an ecstasy of the +muscles. His face radiant with a savage joy, he fastened his glance upon +Patsy, his eyes gleaming with a gloating, murderous light. A most +unspeakable, animal-like rage was in his expression. + +"Ah! ah! He will fight me! Ah!" He bended unconsciously in the posture +of a fencer. He had all the quick, springy movements of a skilful +swordsman. "Ah, the b-r-r-rute! The b-r-r-rute! I will stick him like a +pig!" + +The two peacemakers, still grinning broadly, were having a great time +with Patsy. + +"Why, you infernal idiot, this man would slice you all up. You better +jump off the bridge if you want to commit suicide. You wouldn't stand a +ghost of a chance to live ten seconds." + +Patsy was as unshaken as granite. "Well, if he wants t' fight wid +swords, he'll get it. I'll giv' 'im a go at it, anyhow." + +One man said--"Well, have you got a sword? Do you know what a sword is? +Have you got a sword?" + +"No, I ain't got none," said Patsy honestly, "but I kin git one." Then +he added valiantly--"An' quick, too." + +The two men laughed. "Why, can't you understand it would be sure death +to fight a sword duel with this fellow?" + +"Dat's all right! See? I know me own business. If he wants t' fight one +of dees d--n duels, I'm in it, understan'" + +"Have you ever fought one, you fool?" + +"No, I ain't. But I will fight one, dough! I ain't no muff. If he wants +t' fight a duel, by Gawd, I'm wid 'im! D'yeh understan' dat!" Patsy +cocked his hat and swaggered. He was getting very serious. + +The little Cuban burst out--"Ah, come on, sirs: come on! We can take +cab. Ah, you big cow, I will stick you, I will stick you. Ah, you will +look very beautiful, very beautiful. Ah, come on, sirs. We will stop at +hotel--my hotel. I there have weapons." + +"Yeh will, will yeh? Yeh bloomin' little black Dago!" cried Patsy in +hoarse and maddened reply to the personal part of the Cuban's speech. He +stepped forward. "Git yer d--n swords," he commanded. "Git yer swords. +Git 'em quick! I'll fight wi' che! I'll fight wid anyt'ing, too! See? +I'll fight yeh wid a knife an' fork if yeh say so! I'll fight yer +standin' up er sittin' down!" Patsy delivered this intense oration with +sweeping, intensely emphatic gestures, his hands stretched out +eloquently, his jaw thrust forward, his eyes glaring. + +"Ah!" cried the little Cuban joyously. "Ah, you are in very pretty +temper. Ah, how I will cut your heart in two piece, my dear, d-e-a-r +friend." His eyes, too, shone like carbuncles, with a swift, changing +glitter, always fastened upon Patsy's face. + +The two peacemakers were perspiring and in despair. One of them blurted +out-- + +"Well, I'll be blamed if this ain't the most ridiculous thing I ever +saw." + +The other said--"For ten dollars I'd be tempted to let these two +infernal blockheads have their duel." + +Patsy was strutting to and fro, and conferring grandly with his friends. + +"He took me for a muff. He t'ought he was goin' t' bluff me out, talkin' +'bout swords. He'll get fooled." He addressed the Cuban--"You're a fine +little dirty picter of a scrapper, ain't che? I'll chew yez up, dat's +what I will!" + +There began then some rapid action. The patience of well-dressed men is +not an eternal thing. It began to look as if it would at last be a fight +with six corners to it. The faces of the men were shining red with +anger. They jostled each other defiantly, and almost every one blazed +out at three or four of the others. The bartender had given up +protesting. He swore for a time and banged his glasses. Then he jumped +the bar and ran out of the saloon, cursing sullenly. + +When he came back with a policeman, Patsy and the Cuban were preparing +to depart together. Patsy was delivering his last oration-- + +"I'll fight yer wid swords! Sure I will! Come ahead, Dago! I'll fight +yeh anywheres wid anyt'ing! We'll have a large, juicy scrap, an' don't +yeh forgit dat! I'm right wid yez. I ain't no muff! I scrap with a man +jest as soon as he ses scrap, an' if yeh wanta scrap, I'm yer kitten. +Understan' dat?" + +The policeman said sharply--"Come, now; what's all this?" He had a +distinctly business air. + +The little Cuban stepped forward calmly. "It is none of your business." + +The policeman flushed to his ears. "What?" + +One well-dressed man touched the other on the sleeve. "Here's the time +to skip," he whispered. They halted a block away from the saloon and +watched the policeman pull the Cuban through the door. There was a +minute of scuffle on the sidewalk, and into this deserted street at +midnight fifty people appeared at once as if from the sky to watch it. + +At last the three Cherry Hill men came from the saloon, and swaggered +with all their old valor toward the peacemakers. + +"Ah," said Patsy to them, "he was so hot talkin' about this duel +business, but I would a-given 'im a great scrap, an' don't yeh forgit +it." + +For Patsy was not as wise as seven owls, but his courage could throw a +shadow as long as the steeple of a cathedral. + + + + +A DESERTION + + +The yellow gaslight that came with an effect of difficulty through the +dust-stained windows on either side of the door gave strange hues to the +faces and forms of the three women who stood gabbling in the hallway of +the tenement. They made rapid gestures, and in the background their +enormous shadows mingled in terrific conflict. + +"Aye, she ain't so good as he thinks she is, I'll bet. He can watch over +'er an' take care of 'er all he pleases, but when she wants t' fool 'im, +she'll fool 'im. An' how does he know she ain't foolin' im' now?" + +"Oh, he thinks he's keepin' 'er from goin' t' th' bad, he does. Oh, yes. +He ses she's too purty t' let run round alone. Too purty! Huh! My +Sadie--" + +"Well, he keeps a clost watch on 'er, you bet. On'y las' week, she met +my boy Tim on th' stairs, an' Tim hadn't said two words to 'er b'fore +th' ol' man begin to holler. 'Dorter, dorter, come here, come here!'" + +At this moment a young girl entered from the street, and it was evident +from the injured expression suddenly assumed by the three gossipers that +she had been the object of their discussion. She passed them with a +slight nod, and they swung about into a row to stare after her. + +On her way up the long flights the girl unfastened her veil. One could +then clearly see the beauty of her eyes, but there was in them a certain +furtiveness that came near to marring the effects. It was a peculiar +fixture of gaze, brought from the street, as of one who there saw a +succession of passing dangers with menaces aligned at every corner. + +On the top floor, she pushed open a door and then paused on the +threshold, confronting an interior that appeared black and flat like a +curtain. Perhaps some girlish idea of hobgoblins assailed her then, for +she called in a little breathless voice, "Daddie!" + +There was no reply. The fire in the cooking-stove in the room crackled +at spasmodic intervals. One lid was misplaced, and the girl could now +see that this fact created a little flushed crescent upon the ceiling. +Also, a series of tiny windows in the stove caused patches of red upon +the floor. Otherwise, the room was heavily draped with shadows. + +The girl called again, "Daddie!" + +Yet there was no reply. + +"Oh, Daddie!" + +Presently she laughed as one familiar with the humors of an old man. +"Oh, I guess yer cussin' mad about yer supper, Dad," she said, and she +almost entered the room, but suddenly faltered, overcome by a feminine +instinct to fly from this black interior, peopled with imagined dangers. + +Again she called, "Daddie!" Her voice had an accent of appeal. It was as +if she knew she was foolish but yet felt obliged to insist upon being +reassured. "Oh, Daddie!" + +Of a sudden a cry of relief, a feminine announcement that the stars +still hung, burst from her. For, according to some mystic process, the +smoldering coals of the fire went aflame with sudden, fierce brilliance, +splashing parts of the walls, the floor, the crude furniture, with a hue +of blood-red. And in the light of this dramatic outburst of light, the +girl saw her father seated at a table with his back turned toward her. + +She entered the room, then, with an aggrieved air, her logic evidently +concluding that somebody was to blame for her nervous fright. "Oh, yer +on'y sulkin' 'bout yer supper. I thought mebbe ye'd gone somewheres." + +Her father made no reply. She went over to a shelf in the corner, and, +taking a little lamp, she lit it and put it where it would give her +light as she took off her hat and jacket in front of the tiny mirror. +Presently she began to bustle among the cooking utensils that were +crowded into the sink, and as she worked she rattled talk at her father, +apparently disdaining his mood. + +"I'd 'a' come home earlier t'night, Dad, on'y that fly foreman, he kep' +me in th' shop 'til half-past six. What a fool! He came t' me, yeh know, +an' he ses, 'Nell, I wanta give yeh some brotherly advice.' Oh, I know +him an' his brotherly advice. 'I wanta give yeh some brotherly advice. +Yer too purty, Nell,' he ses, 't' be workin' in this shop an' paradin' +through the streets alone, without somebody t' give yeh good brotherly +advice, an' I wanta warn yeh, Nell. I'm a bad man, but I ain't as bad as +some, an' I wanta warn yeh.' 'Oh, g'long 'bout yer business,' I ses. I +know 'im. He's like all of 'em, on'y he's a little slyer. I know 'im. +'You g'long 'bout yer business,' I ses. Well, he ses after a while that +he guessed some evenin' he'd come up an' see me. 'Oh, yeh will,' I ses, +'yeh will? Well, you jest let my ol' man ketch yeh comin' foolin' 'round +our place. Yeh'll wish yeh went t' some other girl t' give brotherly +advice.' 'What th' 'ell do I care fer yer father?' he ses. 'What's he t' +me?' 'If he throws yeh downstairs, yeh'll care for 'im,' I ses. 'Well,' +he ses, 'I'll come when 'e ain't in, b' Gawd, I'll come when 'e ain't +in.' 'Oh, he's allus in when it means takin' care 'o me,' I ses. 'Don't +yeh fergit it, either. When it comes t' takin' care o' his dorter, he's +right on deck every single possible time.'" + +After a time, she turned and addressed cheery words to the old man. +"Hurry up th' fire, Daddie! We'll have supper pretty soon." + +But still her father was silent, and his form in its sullen posture was +motionless. + +At this, the girl seemed to see the need of the inauguration of a +feminine war against a man out of temper. She approached him breathing +soft, coaxing syllables. + +"Daddie! Oh, Daddie! O--o--oh, Daddie!" + +It was apparent from a subtle quality of valor in her tones that this +manner of onslaught upon his moods had usually been successful, but to- +night it had no quick effect. The words, coming from her lips, were like +the refrain of an old ballad, but the man remained stolid. + +"Daddie! My Daddie! Oh, Daddie, are yeh mad at me, really--truly mad at +me!" + +She touched him lightly upon the arm. Should he have turned then he +would have seen the fresh, laughing face, with dew-sparkling eyes, close +to his own. + +"Oh, Daddie! My Daddie! Pretty Daddie!" + +She stole her arm about his neck, and then slowly bended her face toward +his. It was the action of a queen who knows that she reigns +notwithstanding irritations, trials, tempests. + +But suddenly, from this position, she leaped backward with the mad +energy of a frightened colt. Her face was in this instant turned to a +grey, featureless thing of horror. A yell, wild and hoarse as a brute- +cry, burst from her. "Daddie!" She flung herself to a place near the +door, where she remained, crouching, her eyes staring at the motionless +figure, spattered by the quivering flashes from the fire. Her arms +extended, and her frantic fingers at once besought and repelled. There +was in them an expression of eagerness to caress and an expression of +the most intense loathing. And the girl's hair that had been a splendor, +was in these moments changed to a disordered mass that hung and swayed +in witchlike fashion. + +Again, a terrible cry burst from her. It was more than the shriek of +agony--it was directed, personal, addressed to him in the chair, the +first word of a tragic conversation with the dead. + +It seemed that when she had put her arm about its neck, she had jostled +the corpse in such a way that now she and it were face to face. The +attitude expressed an intention of arising from the table. The eyes, +fixed upon hers, were filled with an unspeakable hatred. + + * * * * * + +The cries of the girl aroused thunders in the tenement. There was a loud +slamming of doors, and presently there was a roar of feet upon the +boards of the stairway. Voices rang out sharply. + +"What is it?" + +"What's th' matter?" + +"He's killin' her!" + +"Slug 'im with anythin' yeh kin lay hold of, Jack!" + +But over all this came the shrill, shrewish tones of a woman. "Ah, th' +damned ol' fool, he's drivin' 'er inteh th' street--that's what he's +doin'. He's drivin' 'er inteh th' street." + + + + +A DARK-BROWN DOG + + +A child was standing on a street-corner. He leaned with one shoulder +against a high board fence and swayed the other to and fro, the while +kicking carelessly at the gravel. + +Sunshine beat upon the cobbles, and a lazy summer wind raised yellow +dust which trailed in clouds down the avenue. Clattering trucks moved +with indistinctness through it. The child stood dreamily gazing. + +After a time, a little dark-brown dog came trotting with an intent air +down the sidewalk. A short rope was dragging from his neck. Occasionally +he trod upon the end of it and stumbled. + +He stopped opposite the child, and the two regarded each other. The dog +hesitated for a moment, but presently he made some little advances with +his tail. The child put out his hand and called him. In an apologetic +manner the dog came close, and the two had an interchange of friendly +pattings and waggles. The dog became more enthusiastic with each moment +of the interview, until with his gleeful caperings he threatened to +overturn the child. Whereupon the child lifted his hand and struck the +dog a blow upon the head. + +This thing seemed to overpower and astonish the little dark-brown dog, +and wounded him to the heart. He sank down in despair at the child's +feet. When the blow was repeated, together with an admonition in +childish sentences, he turned over upon his back, and held his paws in a +peculiar manner. At the same time with his ears and his eyes he offered +a small prayer to the child. + +He looked so comical on his back, and holding his paws peculiarly, that +the child was greatly amused and gave him little taps repeatedly, to +keep him so. But the little dark-brown dog took this chastisement in the +most serious way and no doubt considered that he had committed some +grave crime, for he wriggled contritely and showed his repentance in +every way that was in his power. He pleaded with the child and +petitioned him, and offered more prayers. + +At last the child grew weary of this amusement and turned toward home. +The dog was praying at the time. He lay on his back and turned his eyes +upon the retreating form. + +Presently he struggled to his feet and started after the child. The +latter wandered in a perfunctory way toward his home, stopping at times +to investigate various matters. During one of these pauses he discovered +the little dark-brown dog who was following him with the air of a +footpad. + +The child beat his pursuer with a small stick he had found. The dog lay +down and prayed until the child had finished, and resumed his journey. +Then he scrambled erect and took up the pursuit again. + +On the way to his home the child turned many times and beat the dog, +proclaiming with childish gestures that he held him in contempt as an +unimportant dog, with no value save for a moment. For being this quality +of animal the dog apologized and eloquently expressed regret, but he +continued stealthily to follow the child. His manner grew so very guilty +that he slunk like an assassin. + +When the child reached his doorstep, the dog was industriously ambling a +few yards in the rear. He became so agitated with shame when he again +confronted the child that he forgot the dragging rope. He tripped upon +it and fell forward. + +The child sat down on the step and the two had another interview. During +it the dog greatly exerted himself to please the child. He performed a +few gambols with such abandon that the child suddenly saw him to be a +valuable thing. He made a swift, avaricious charge and seized the rope. + +He dragged his captive into a hall and up many long stairways in a dark +tenement. The dog made willing efforts, but he could not hobble very +skilfully up the stairs because he was very small and soft, and at last +the pace of the engrossed child grew so energetic that the dog became +panic-stricken. In his mind he was being dragged toward a grim unknown. +His eyes grew wild with the terror of it. He began to wiggle his head +frantically and to brace his legs. + +The child redoubled his exertions. They had a battle on the stairs. The +child was victorious because he was completely absorbed in his purpose, +and because the dog was very small. He dragged his acquirement to the +door of his home, and finally with triumph across the threshold. + +No one was in. The child sat down on the floor and made overtures to the +dog. These the dog instantly accepted. He beamed with affection upon his +new friend. In a short time they were firm and abiding comrades. + +When the child's family appeared, they made a great row. The dog was +examined and commented upon and called names. Scorn was leveled at him +from all eyes, so that he became much embarrassed and drooped like a +scorched plant. But the child went sturdily to the center of the floor, +and, at the top of his voice, championed the dog. It happened that he +was roaring protestations, with his arms clasped about the dog's neck, +when the father of the family came in from work. + +The parent demanded to know what the blazes they were making the kid +howl for. It was explained in many words that the infernal kid wanted to +introduce a disreputable dog into the family. + +A family council was held. On this depended the dog's fate, but he in no +way heeded, being busily engaged in chewing the end of the child's +dress. + +The affair was quickly ended. The father of the family, it appears, was +in a particularly savage temper that evening, and when he perceived that +it would amaze and anger everybody if such a dog were allowed to remain, +he decided that it should be so. The child, crying softly, took his +friend off to a retired part of the room to hobnob with him, while the +father quelled a fierce rebellion of his wife. So it came to pass that +the dog was a member of the household. + +He and the child were associated together at all times save when the +child slept. The child became a guardian and a friend. If the large folk +kicked the dog and threw things at him, the child made loud and violent +objections. Once when the child had run, protesting loudly, with tears +raining down his face and his arms outstretched, to protect his friend, +he had been struck in the head with a very large saucepan from the hand +of his father, enraged at some seeming lack of courtesy in the dog. Ever +after, the family were careful how they threw things at the dog. +Moreover, the latter grew very skilful in avoiding missiles and feet. In +a small room containing a stove, a table, a bureau and some chairs, he +would display strategic ability of a high order, dodging, feinting and +scuttling about among the furniture. He could force three or four people +armed with brooms, sticks and handfuls of coal, to use all their +ingenuity to get in a blow. And even when they did, it was seldom that +they could do him a serious injury or leave any imprint. + +But when the child was present these scenes did not occur. It came to be +recognized that if the dog was molested, the child would burst into +sobs, and as the child, when started, was very riotous and practically +unquenchable, the dog had therein a safeguard. + +However, the child could not always be near. At night, when he was +asleep, his dark-brown friend would raise from some black corner a wild, +wailful cry, a song of infinite loneliness and despair, that would go +shuddering and sobbing among the buildings of the block and cause people +to swear. At these times the singer would often be chased all over the +kitchen and hit with a great variety of articles. + +Sometimes, too, the child himself used to beat the dog, although it is +not known that he ever had what truly could be called a just cause. The +dog always accepted these thrashings with an air of admitted guilt. He +was too much of a dog to try to look to be a martyr or to plot revenge. +He received the blows with deep humility, and furthermore he forgave his +friend the moment the child had finished, and was ready to caress the +child's hand with his little red tongue. + +When misfortune came upon the child, and his troubles overwhelmed him, +he would often crawl under the table and lay his small distressed head +on the dog's back. The dog was ever sympathetic. It is not to be +supposed that at such times he took occasion to refer to the unjust +beatings his friend, when provoked, had administered to him. + +He did not achieve any notable degree of intimacy with the other members +of the family. He had no confidence in them, and the fear that he would +express at their casual approach often exasperated them exceedingly. +They used to gain a certain satisfaction in underfeeding him, but +finally his friend the child grew to watch the matter with some care, +and when he forgot it, the dog was often successful in secret for +himself. + +So the dog prospered. He developed a large bark, which came wondrously +from such a small rug of a dog. He ceased to howl persistently at night. +Sometimes, indeed, in his sleep, he would utter little yells, as from +pain, but that occurred, no doubt, when in his dreams he encountered +huge flaming dogs who threatened him direfully. + +His devotion to the child grew until it was a sublime thing. He wagged +at his approach; he sank down in despair at his departure. He could +detect the sound of the child's step among all the noises of the +neighborhood. It was like a calling voice to him. + +The scene of their companionship was a kingdom governed by this terrible +potentate, the child; but neither criticism nor rebellion ever lived for +an instant in the heart of the one subject. Down in the mystic, hidden +fields of his little dog-soul bloomed flowers of love and fidelity and +perfect faith. + +The child was in the habit of going on many expeditions to observe +strange things in the vicinity. On these occasions his friend usually +jogged aimfully along behind. Perhaps, though, he went ahead. This +necessitated his turning around every quarter-minute to make sure the +child was coming. He was filled with a large idea of the importance of +these journeys. He would carry himself with such an air! He was proud to +be the retainer of so great a monarch. + +One day, however, the father of the family got quite exceptionally +drunk. He came home and held carnival with the cooking utensils, the +furniture and his wife. He was in the midst of this recreation when the +child, followed by the dark-brown dog, entered the room. They were +returning from their voyages. + +The child's practised eye instantly noted his father's state. He dived +under the table, where experience had taught him was a rather safe +place. The dog, lacking skill in such matters, was, of course, unaware +of the true condition of affairs. He looked with interested eyes at his +friend's sudden dive. He interpreted it to mean: Joyous gambol. He +started to patter across the floor to join him. He was the picture of a +little dark-brown dog en route to a friend. + +The head of the family saw him at this moment. He gave a huge howl of +joy, and knocked the dog down with a heavy coffee-pot. The dog, yelling +in supreme astonishment and fear, writhed to his feet and ran for cover. +The man kicked out with a ponderous foot. It caused the dog to swerve as +if caught in a tide. A second blow of the coffee-pot laid him upon the +floor. + +Here the child, uttering loud cries, came valiantly forth like a knight. +The father of the family paid no attention to these calls of the child, +but advanced with glee upon the dog. Upon being knocked down twice in +swift succession, the latter apparently gave up all hope of escape. He +rolled over on his back and held his paws in a peculiar manner. At the +same time with his eyes and his ears he offered up a small prayer. + +But the father was in a mood for having fun, and it occurred to him that +it would be a fine thing to throw the dog out of the window. So he +reached down and, grabbing the animal by a leg, lifted him, squirming, +up. He swung him two or three times hilariously about his head, and then +flung him with great accuracy through the window. + +The soaring dog created a surprise in the block. A woman watering plants +in an opposite window gave an involuntary shout and dropped a flower- +pot. A man in another window leaned perilously out to watch the flight +of the dog. A woman who had been hanging out clothes in a yard began to +caper wildly. Her mouth was filled with clothes-pins, but her arms gave +vent to a sort of exclamation. In appearance she was like a gagged +prisoner. Children ran whooping. + +The dark-brown body crashed in a heap on the roof of a shed five stories +below. From thence it rolled to the pavement of an alleyway. + +The child in the room far above burst into a long, dirge-like cry, and +toddled hastily out of the room. It took him a long time to reach the +alley, because his size compelled him to go downstairs backward, one +step at a time, and holding with both hands to the step above. + +When they came for him later, they found him seated by the body of his +dark-brown friend. + + + + +THE PACE OF YOUTH + + +I + +Stimson stood in a corner and glowered. He was a fierce man and had +indomitable whiskers, albeit he was very small. + +"That young tarrier," he whispered to himself. "He wants to quit makin' +eyes at Lizzie. This is too much of a good thing. First thing you know, +he'll get fired." + +His brow creased in a frown, he strode over to the huge open doors and +looked at a sign. "Stimson's Mammoth Merry-Go-Round," it read, and the +glory of it was great. Stimson stood and contemplated the sign. It was +an enormous affair; the letters were as large as men. The glow of it, +the grandeur of it was very apparent to Stimson. At the end of his +contemplation, he shook his head thoughtfully, determinedly. "No, no," +he muttered. "This is too much of a good thing. First thing you know, +he'll get fired." + +A soft booming sound of surf, mingled with the cries of bathers, came +from the beach. There was a vista of sand and sky and sea that drew to a +mystic point far away in the northward. In the mighty angle, a girl in a +red dress was crawling slowly like some kind of a spider on the fabric +of nature. A few flags hung lazily above where the bathhouses were +marshalled in compact squares. Upon the edge of the sea stood a ship +with its shadowy sails painted dimly upon the sky, and high overhead in +the still, sun-shot air a great hawk swung and drifted slowly. + +Within the Merry-Go-Round there was a whirling circle of ornamental +lions, giraffes, camels, ponies, goats, glittering with varnish and +metal that caught swift reflections from windows high above them. With +stiff wooden legs, they swept on in a never-ending race, while a great +orchestrion clamored in wild speed. The summer sunlight sprinkled its +gold upon the garnet canopies carried by the tireless racers and upon +all the devices of decoration that made Stimson's machine magnificent +and famous. A host of laughing children bestrode the animals, bending +forward like charging cavalrymen, and shaking reins and whooping in +glee. At intervals they leaned out perilously to clutch at iron rings +that were tendered to them by a long wooden arm. At the intense moment +before the swift grab for the rings one could see their little nervous +bodies quiver with eagerness; the laughter rang shrill and excited. Down +in the long rows of benches, crowds of people sat watching the game, +while occasionally a father might arise and go near to shout +encouragement, cautionary commands, or applause at his flying offspring. +Frequently mothers called out: "Be careful, Georgie!" The orchestrion +bellowed and thundered on its platform, filling the ears with its long +monotonous song. Over in a corner, a man in a white apron and behind a +counter roared above the tumult: "Popcorn! Popcorn!" + +A young man stood upon a small, raised platform, erected in a manner of +a pulpit, and just without the line of the circling figures. It was his +duty to manipulate the wooden arm and affix the rings. When all were +gone into the hands of the triumphant children, he held forth a basket, +into which they returned all save the coveted brass one, which meant +another ride free and made the holder very illustrious. The young man +stood all day upon his narrow platform, affixing rings or holding forth +the basket. He was a sort of general squire in these lists of childhood. +He was very busy. + +And yet Stimson, the astute, had noticed that the young man frequently +found time to twist about on his platform and smile at a girl who shyly +sold tickets behind a silvered netting. This, indeed, was the great +reason of Stimson's glowering. The young man upon the raised platform +had no manner of license to smile at the girl behind the silvered +netting. It was a most gigantic insolence. Stimson was amazed at it. "By +Jiminy," he said to himself again, "that fellow is smiling at my +daughter." Even in this tone of great wrath it could be discerned that +Stimson was filled with wonder that any youth should dare smile at the +daughter in the presence of the august father. + +Often the dark-eyed girl peered between the shining wires, and, upon +being detected by the young man, she usually turned her head quickly to +prove to him that she was not interested. At other times, however, her +eyes seemed filled with a tender fear lest he should fall from that +exceedingly dangerous platform. As for the young man, it was plain that +these glances filled him with valor, and he stood carelessly upon his +perch, as if he deemed it of no consequence that he might fall from it. +In all the complexities of his daily life and duties he found +opportunity to gaze ardently at the vision behind the netting. + +This silent courtship was conducted over the heads of the crowd who +thronged about the bright machine. The swift eloquent glances of the +young man went noiselessly and unseen with their message. There had +finally become established between the two in this manner a subtle +understanding and companionship. They communicated accurately all that +they felt. The boy told his love, his reverence, his hope in the changes +of the future. The girl told him that she loved him, and she did not +love him, that she did not know if she loved him. Sometimes a little +sign, saying "cashier" in gold letters, and hanging upon the silvered +netting, got directly in range and interfered with the tender message. + +The love affair had not continued without anger, unhappiness, despair. +The girl had once smiled brightly upon a youth who came to buy some +tickets for his little sister, and the young man upon the platform, +observing this smile, had been filled with gloomy rage. He stood like a +dark statue of vengeance upon his pedestal and thrust out the basket to +the children with a gesture that was full of scorn for their hollow +happiness, for their insecure and temporary joy. For five hours he did +not once look at the girl when she was looking at him. He was going to +crush her with his indifference; he was going to demonstrate that he had +never been serious. However, when he narrowly observed her in secret he +discovered that she seemed more blythe than was usual with her. When he +found that his apparent indifference had not crushed her he suffered +greatly. She did not love him, he concluded. If she had loved him she +would have been crushed. For two days he lived a miserable existence +upon his high perch. He consoled himself by thinking of how unhappy he +was, and by swift, furtive glances at the loved face. At any rate he was +in her presence, and he could get a good view from his perch when there +was no interference by the little sign: "Cashier." + +But suddenly, swiftly, these clouds vanished, and under the imperial +blue sky of the restored confidence they dwelt in peace, a peace that +was satisfaction, a peace that, like a babe, put its trust in the +treachery of the future. This confidence endured until the next day, +when she, for an unknown cause, suddenly refused to look at him. +Mechanically he continued his task, his brain dazed, a tortured victim +of doubt, fear, suspicion. With his eyes he supplicated her to telegraph +an explanation. She replied with a stony glance that froze his blood. +There was a great difference in their respective reasons for becoming +angry. His were always foolish, but apparent, plain as the moon. Hers +were subtle, feminine, as incomprehensible as the stars, as mysterious +as the shadows at night. + +They fell and soared and soared and fell in this manner until they knew +that to live without each other would be a wandering in deserts. They +had grown so intent upon the uncertainties, the variations, the +guessings of their affair that the world had become but a huge +immaterial background. In time of peace their smiles were soft and +prayerful, caresses confided to the air. In time of war, their youthful +hearts, capable of profound agony, were wrung by the intricate emotions +of doubt. They were the victims of the dread angel of affectionate +speculation that forces the brain endlessly on roads that lead nowhere. + +At night, the problem of whether she loved him confronted the young man +like a spectre, looming as high as a hill and telling him not to delude +himself. Upon the following day, this battle of the night displayed +itself in the renewed fervor of his glances and in their increased +number. Whenever he thought he could detect that she too was suffering, +he felt a thrill of joy. + +But there came a time when the young man looked back upon these +contortions with contempt. He believed then that he had imagined his +pain. This came about when the redoubtable Stimson marched forward to +participate. + +"This has got to stop," Stimson had said to himself, as he stood and +watched them. They had grown careless of the light world that clattered +about them; they were become so engrossed in their personal drama that +the language of their eyes was almost as obvious as gestures. And +Stimson, through his keenness, his wonderful, infallible penetration, +suddenly came into possession of these obvious facts. "Well, of all the +nerves," he said, regarding with a new interest the young man upon the +perch. + +He was a resolute man. He never hesitated to grapple with a crisis. He +decided to overturn everything at once, for, although small, he was very +fierce and impetuous. He resolved to crush this dreaming. + +He strode over to the silvered netting. "Say, you want to quit your +everlasting grinning at that idiot," he said, grimly. + +The girl cast down her eyes and made a little heap of quarters into a +stack. She was unable to withstand the terrible scrutiny of her small +and fierce father. + +Stimson turned from his daughter and went to a spot beneath the +platform. He fixed his eyes upon the young man and said-- + +"I've been speakin' to Lizzie. You better attend strictly to your own +business or there'll be a new man here next week." It was as if he had +blazed away with a shotgun. The young man reeled upon his perch. At last +he in a measure regained his composure and managed to stammer: "A--all +right, sir." He knew that denials would be futile with the terrible +Stimson. He agitatedly began to rattle the rings in the basket, and +pretend that he was obliged to count them or inspect them in some way. +He, too, was unable to face the great Stimson. + +For a moment, Stimson stood in fine satisfaction and gloated over the +effect of his threat. + +"I've fixed them," he said complacently, and went out to smoke a cigar +and revel in himself. Through his mind went the proud reflection that +people who came in contact with his granite will usually ended in quick +and abject submission. + + +II + +One evening, a week after Stimson had indulged in the proud reflection +that people who came in contact with his granite will usually ended in +quick and abject submission, a young feminine friend of the girl behind +the silvered netting came to her there and asked her to walk on the +beach after "Stimson's Mammoth Merry-Go-Round" was closed for the night. +The girl assented with a nod. + +The young man upon the perch holding the rings saw this nod and judged +its meaning. Into his mind came an idea of defeating the watchfulness of +the redoubtable Stimson. When the Merry-Go-Round was closed and the two +girls started for the beach, he wandered off aimlessly in another +direction, but he kept them in view, and as soon as he was assured that +he had escaped the vigilance of Stimson, he followed them. + +The electric lights on the beach made a broad band of tremoring light, +extending parallel to the sea, and upon the wide walk there slowly +paraded a great crowd, intermingling, intertwining, sometimes colliding. +In the darkness stretched the vast purple expanse of the ocean, and the +deep indigo sky above was peopled with yellow stars. Occasionally out +upon the water a whirling mass of froth suddenly flashed into view, like +a great ghostly robe appearing, and then vanished, leaving the sea in +its darkness, whence came those bass tones of the water's unknown +emotion. A wind, cool, reminiscent of the wave wastes, made the women +hold their wraps about their throats, and caused the men to grip the +rims of their straw hats. It carried the noise of the band in the +pavilion in gusts. Sometimes people unable to hear the music glanced up +at the pavilion and were reassured upon beholding the distant leader +still gesticulating and bobbing, and the other members of the band with +their lips glued to their instruments. High in the sky soared an +unassuming moon, faintly silver. + +For a time the young man was afraid to approach the two girls; he +followed them at a distance and called himself a coward. At last, +however, he saw them stop on the outer edge of the crowd and stand +silently listening to the voices of the sea. When he came to where they +stood, he was trembling in his agitation. They had not seen him. + +"Lizzie," he began. "I----" + +The girl wheeled instantly and put her hand to her throat. + +"Oh, Frank, how you frightened me," she said--inevitably. + +"Well, you know, I--I----" he stuttered. + +But the other girl was one of those beings who are born to attend at +tragedies. She had for love a reverence, an admiration that was greater +the more that she contemplated the fact that she knew nothing of it. +This couple, with their emotions, awed her and made her humbly wish that +she might be destined to be of some service to them. She was very +homely. + +When the young man faltered before them, she, in her sympathy, actually +over-estimated the crisis, and felt that he might fall dying at their +feet. Shyly, but with courage, she marched to the rescue. + +"Won't you come and walk on the beach with us?" she said. + +The young man gave her a glance of deep gratitude which was not without +the patronage which a man in his condition naturally feels for one who +pities it. The three walked on. + +Finally, the being who was born to attend at this tragedy said that she +wished to sit down and gaze at the sea, alone. + +They politely urged her to walk on with them, but she was obstinate. She +wished to gaze at the sea, alone. The young man swore to himself that he +would be her friend until he died. + +And so the two young lovers went on without her. They turned once to +look at her. + +"Jennie's awful nice," said the girl. + +"You bet she is," replied the young man, ardently. + +They were silent for a little time. + +At last the girl said-- + +"You were angry at me yesterday." + +"No, I wasn't." + +"Yes, you were, too. You wouldn't look at me once all day." + +"No, I wasn't angry. I was only putting on." + +Though she had, of course, known it, this confession seemed to make her +very indignant. She flashed a resentful glance at him. + +"Oh, you were, indeed?" she said with a great air. + +For a few minutes she was so haughty with him that he loved her to +madness. And directly this poem, which stuck at his lips, came forth +lamely in fragments. + +When they walked back toward the other girl and saw the patience of her +attitude, their hearts swelled in a patronizing and secondary tenderness +for her. + +They were very happy. If they had been miserable they would have charged +this fairy scene of the night with a criminal heartlessness; but as they +were joyous, they vaguely wondered how the purple sea, the yellow stars, +the changing crowds under the electric lights could be so phlegmatic and +stolid. + +They walked home by the lakeside way, and out upon the water those gay +paper lanterns, flashing, fleeting, and careering, sang to them, sang a +chorus of red and violet, and green and gold; a song of mystic bands of +the future. + +One day, when business paused during a dull sultry afternoon, Stimson +went up town. Upon his return, he found that the popcorn man, from his +stand over in a corner, was keeping an eye upon the cashier's cage, and +that nobody at all was attending to the wooden arm and the iron rings. +He strode forward like a sergeant of grenadiers. + +"Where in thunder is Lizzie?" he demanded, a cloud of rage in his eyes. + +The popcorn man, although associated long with Stimson, had never got +over being dazed. + +"They've--they've--gone round to th'--th'--house," he said with +difficulty, as if he had just been stunned. + +"Whose house?" snapped Stimson. + +"Your--your house, I s'pose," said the popcorn man. + +Stimson marched round to his home. Kingly denunciations surged, already +formulated, to the tip of his tongue, and he bided the moment when his +anger could fall upon the heads of that pair of children. He found his +wife convulsive and in tears. + +"Where's Lizzie?" + +And then she burst forth--"Oh--John--John--they've run away, I know they +have. They drove by here not three minutes ago. They must have done it +on purpose to bid me good-bye, for Lizzie waved her hand sadlike; and +then, before I could get out to ask where they were going or what, Frank +whipped up the horse." + +Stimson gave vent to a dreadful roar. + +"Get my revolver--get a hack--get my revolver, do you hear--what the +devil--" His voice became incoherent. + +He had always ordered his wife about as if she were a battalion of +infantry, and despite her misery, the training of years forced her to +spring mechanically to obey; but suddenly she turned to him with a +shrill appeal. + +"Oh, John--not--the--revolver." + +"Confound it, let go of me!" he roared again, and shook her from him. + +He ran hatless upon the street. There were a multitude of hacks at the +summer resort, but it was ages to him before he could find one. Then he +charged it like a bull. + +"Uptown!" he yelled, as he tumbled into the rear seat. + +The hackman thought of severed arteries. His galloping horse distanced a +large number of citizens who had been running to find what caused such +contortions by the little hatless man. + +It chanced as the bouncing hack went along near the lake, Stimson gazed +across the calm grey expanse and recognized a color in a bonnet and a +pose of a head. A buggy was traveling along a highway that led to +Sorington. Stimson bellowed--"There--there--there they are--in that +buggy." + +The hackman became inspired with the full knowledge of the situation. He +struck a delirious blow with the whip. His mouth expanded in a grin of +excitement and joy. It came to pass that this old vehicle, with its +drowsy horse and its dusty-eyed and tranquil driver, seemed suddenly to +awaken, to become animated and fleet. The horse ceased to ruminate on +his state, his air of reflection vanished. He became intent upon his +aged legs and spread them in quaint and ridiculous devices for speed. +The driver, his eyes shining, sat critically in his seat. He watched +each motion of this rattling machine down before him. He resembled an +engineer. He used the whip with judgment and deliberation as the +engineer would have used coal or oil. The horse clacked swiftly upon the +macadam, the wheels hummed, the body of the vehicle wheezed and groaned. + +Stimson, in the rear seat, was erect in that impassive attitude that +comes sometimes to the furious man when he is obliged to leave the +battle to others. Frequently, however, the tempest in his breast came to +his face and he howled-- + +"Go it--go it--you're gaining; pound 'im! Thump the life out of 'im; hit +'im hard, you fool!" His hand grasped the rod that supported the +carriage top, and it was clenched so that the nails were faintly blue. + +Ahead, that other carriage had been flying with speed, as from +realization of the menace in the rear. It bowled away rapidly, drawn by +the eager spirit of a young and modern horse. Stimson could see the +buggy-top bobbing, bobbing. That little pane, like an eye, was a +derision to him. Once he leaned forward and bawled angry sentences. He +began to feel impotent; his whole expedition was a tottering of an old +man upon a trail of birds. A sense of age made him choke again with +wrath. That other vehicle, that was youth, with youth's pace; it was +swift-flying with the hope of dreams. He began to comprehend those two +children ahead of him, and he knew a sudden and strange awe, because he +understood the power of their young blood, the power to fly strongly +into the future and feel and hope again, even at that time when his +bones must be laid in the earth. The dust rose easily from the hot road +and stifled the nostrils of Stimson. + +The highway vanished far away in a point with a suggestion of +intolerable length. The other vehicle was becoming so small that Stimson +could no longer see the derisive eye. + +At last the hackman drew rein to his horse and turned to look at +Stimson. + +"No use, I guess," he said. + +Stimson made a gesture of acquiescence, rage, despair. As the hackman +turned his dripping horse about, Stimson sank back with the astonishment +and grief of a man who has been defied by the universe. He had been in a +great perspiration, and now his bald head felt cool and uncomfortable. +He put up his hand with a sudden recollection that he had forgotten his +hat. + +At last he made a gesture. It meant that at any rate he was not +responsible. + + + + +A TENT IN AGONY + + +A SULLIVAN COUNTY TALE + +Four men once came to a wet place in the roadless forest to fish. They +pitched their tent fair upon the brow of a pine-clothed ridge of riven +rocks whence a bowlder could be made to crash through the brush and +whirl past the trees to the lake below. On fragrant hemlock boughs they +slept the sleep of unsuccessful fishermen, for upon the lake alternately +the sun made them lazy and the rain made them wet. Finally they ate the +last bit of bacon and smoked and burned the last fearful and wonderful +hoecake. + +Immediately a little man volunteered to stay and hold the camp while the +remaining three should go the Sullivan county miles to a farmhouse for +supplies. They gazed at him dismally. "There's only one of you--the +devil make a twin," they said in parting malediction, and disappeared +down the hill in the known direction of a distant cabin. When it came +night and the hemlocks began to sob they had not returned. The little +man sat close to his companion, the campfire, and encouraged it with +logs. He puffed fiercely at a heavy built brier, and regarded a thousand +shadows which were about to assault him. Suddenly he heard the approach +of the unknown, crackling the twigs and rustling the dead leaves. The +little man arose slowly to his feet, his clothes refused to fit his +back, his pipe dropped from his mouth, his knees smote each other. +"Hah!" he bellowed hoarsely in menace. A growl replied and a bear paced +into the light of the fire. The little man supported himself upon a +sapling and regarded his visitor. + +The bear was evidently a veteran and a fighter, for the black of his +coat had become tawny with age. There was confidence in his gait and +arrogance in his small, twinkling eye. He rolled back his lips and +disclosed his white teeth. The fire magnified the red of his mouth. The +little man had never before confronted the terrible and he could not +wrest it from his breast. "Hah!" he roared. The bear interpreted this as +the challenge of a gladiator. He approached warily. As he came near, the +boots of fear were suddenly upon the little man's feet. He cried out and +then darted around the campfire. "Ho!" said the bear to himself, "this +thing won't fight--it runs. Well, suppose I catch it." So upon his +features there fixed the animal look of going--somewhere. He started +intensely around the campfire. The little man shrieked and ran +furiously. Twice around they went. + +The hand of heaven sometimes falls heavily upon the righteous. The bear +gained. + +In desperation the little man flew into the tent. The bear stopped and +sniffed at the entrance. He scented the scent of many men. Finally he +ventured in. + +The little man crouched in a distant corner. The bear advanced, +creeping, his blood burning, his hair erect, his jowls dripping. The +little man yelled and rustled clumsily under the flap at the end of the +tent. The bear snarled awfully and made a jump and a grab at his +disappearing game. The little man, now without the tent, felt a +tremendous paw grab his coat tails. He squirmed and wriggled out of his +coat like a schoolboy in the hands of an avenger. The bear bowled +triumphantly and jerked the coat into the tent and took two bites, a +punch and a hug before he, discovered his man was not in it. Then he +grew not very angry, for a bear on a spree is not a black-haired pirate. +He is merely a hoodlum. He lay down on his back, took the coat on his +four paws and began to play uproariously with it. The most appalling, +blood-curdling whoops and yells came to where the little man was crying +in a treetop and froze his blood. He moaned a little speech meant for a +prayer and clung convulsively to the bending branches. He gazed with +tearful wistfulness at where his comrade, the campfire, was giving dying +flickers and crackles. Finally, there was a roar from the tent which +eclipsed all roars; a snarl which it seemed would shake the stolid +silence of the mountain and cause it to shrug its granite shoulders. The +little man quaked and shrivelled to a grip and a pair of eyes. In the +glow of the embers he saw the white tent quiver and fall with a crash. +The bear's merry play had disturbed the center pole and brought a chaos +of canvas upon his head. + +Now the little man became the witness of a mighty scene. The tent began +to flounder. It took flopping strides in the direction of the lake. +Marvellous sounds came from within--rips and tears, and great groans and +pants. The little man went into giggling hysterics. + +The entangled monster failed to extricate himself before he had walloped +the tent frenziedly to the edge of the mountain. So it came to pass that +three men, clambering up the hill with bundles and baskets, saw their +tent approaching. It seemed to them like a white-robed phantom pursued +by hornets. Its moans riffled the hemlock twigs. + +The three men dropped their bundles and scurried to one side, their eyes +gleaming with fear. The canvas avalanche swept past them. They leaned, +faint and dumb, against trees and listened, their blood stagnant. Below +them it struck the base of a great pine tree, where it writhed and +struggled. The three watched its convolutions a moment and then started +terrifically for the top of the hill. As they disappeared, the bear cut +loose with a mighty effort. He cast one dishevelled and agonized look at +the white thing, and then started wildly for the inner recesses of the +forest. + +The three fear-stricken individuals ran to the rebuilt fire. The little +man reposed by it calmly smoking. They sprang at him and overwhelmed him +with interrogations. He contemplated darkness and took a long, pompous +puff. "There's only one of me--and the devil made a twin," he said. + + + + +FOUR MEN IN A CAVE + + +LIKEWISE FOUR QUEENS, AND A SULLIVAN COUNTY HERMIT + +The moon rested for a moment on the top of a tall pine on a hill. + +The little man was standing in front of the campfire making orations to +his companions. + +"We can tell a great tale when we get back to the city if we investigate +this thing," said he, in conclusion. + +They were won. + +The little man was determined to explore a cave, because its black mouth +had gaped at him. The four men took a lighted pine-knot and clambered +over boulders down a hill. In a thicket on the mountainside lay a little +tilted hole. At its side they halted. + +"Well?" said the little man. + +They fought for last place and the little man was overwhelmed. He tried +to struggle from under by crying that if the fat, pudgy man came after, +he would be corked. But he finally administered a cursing over his +shoulder and crawled into the hole. His companions gingerly followed. + +A passage, the floor of damp clay and pebbles, the walls slimy, green- +mossed, and dripping, sloped downward. In the cave atmosphere the +torches became studies in red blaze and black smoke. + +"Ho!" cried the little man, stifled and bedraggled, "let's go back." His +companions were not brave. They were last. The next one to the little +man pushed him on, so the little man said sulphurous words and +cautiously continued his crawl. + +Things that hung seemed to be on the wet, uneven ceiling, ready to drop +upon the men's bare necks. Under their hands the clammy floor seemed +alive and writhing. When the little man endeavored to stand erect the +ceiling forced him down. Knobs and points came out and punched him. His +clothes were wet and mud-covered, and his eyes, nearly blinded by smoke, +tried to pierce the darkness always before his torch. + +"Oh, I say, you fellows, let's go back," cried he. At that moment he +caught the gleam of trembling light in the blurred shadows before him. + +"Ho!" he said, "here's another way out." + +The passage turned abruptly. The little man put one hand around the +corner, but it touched nothing. He investigated and discovered that the +little corridor took a sudden dip down a hill. At the bottom shone a +yellow light. + +The little man wriggled painfully about, and descended feet in advance. +The others followed his plan. All picked their way with anxious care. +The traitorous rocks rolled from beneath the little man's feet and +roared thunderously below him, lesser stone loosened by the men above +him, hit him on the back. He gained seemingly firm foothold, and, +turning halfway about, swore redly at his companions for dolts and +careless fools. The pudgy man sat, puffing and perspiring, high in the +rear of the procession. The fumes and smoke from four pine-knots were in +his blood. Cinders and sparks lay thick in his eyes and hair. The pause +of the little man angered him. + +"Go on, you fool!" he shouted. "Poor, painted man, you are afraid." + +"Ho!" said the little man. "Come down here and go on yourself, +imbecile!" + +The pudgy man vibrated with passion. He leaned downward. "Idiot--" + +He was interrupted by one of his feet which flew out and crashed into +the man in front of and below. It is not well to quarrel upon a slippery +incline, when the unknown is below. The fat man, having lost the support +of one pillar-like foot, lurched forward. His body smote the next man, +who hurtled into the next man. Then they all fell upon the cursing +little man. + +They slid in a body down over the slippery, slimy floor of the passage. +The stone avenue must have wibble-wobbled with the rush of this ball of +tangled men and strangled cries. The torches went out with the combined +assault upon the little man. The adventurers whirled to the unknown in +darkness. The little man felt that he was pitching to death, but even in +his convolutions he bit and scratched at his companions, for he was +satisfied that it was their fault. The swirling mass went some twenty +feet, and lit upon a level, dry place in a strong, yellow light of +candles. It dissolved and became eyes. + +The four men lay in a heap upon the floor of a grey chamber. A small +fire smoldered in the corner, the smoke disappearing in a crack. In +another corner was a bed of faded hemlock boughs and two blankets. +Cooking utensils and clothes lay about, with boxes and a barrel. + +Of these things the four men took small cognisance. The pudgy man did +not curse the little man, nor did the little man swear, in the abstract. +Eight widened eyes were fixed upon the center of the room of rocks. + +A great, gray stone, cut squarely, like an altar, sat in the middle of +the floor. Over it burned three candles, in swaying tin cups hung from +the ceiling. Before it, with what seemed to be a small volume clasped in +his yellow fingers, stood a man. He was an infinitely sallow person in +the brown-checked shirt of the ploughs and cows. The rest of his apparel +was boots. A long grey beard dangled from his chin. He fixed glinting, +fiery eyes upon the heap of men, and remained motionless. Fascinated, +their tongues cleaving, their blood cold, they arose to their feet. The +gleaming glance of the recluse swept slowly over the group until it +found the face of the little man. There it stayed and burned. + +The little man shrivelled and crumpled as the dried leaf under the +glass. + +Finally, the recluse slowly, deeply spoke. It was a true voice from a +cave, cold, solemn, and damp. + +"It's your ante," he said. + +"What?" said the little man. + +The hermit tilted his beard and laughed a laugh that was either the +chatter of a banshee in a storm or the rattle of pebbles in a tin box. +His visitors' flesh seemed ready to drop from their bones. + +They huddled together and cast fearful eyes over their shoulders. They +whispered. + +"A vampire!" said one. + +"A ghoul!" said another. + +"A Druid before the sacrifice," murmured another. + +"The shade of an Aztec witch doctor," said the little man. + +As they looked, the inscrutable face underwent a change. It became a +livid background for his eyes, which blazed at the little man like +impassioned carbuncles. His voice arose to a howl of ferocity. "It's +your ante!" With a panther-like motion he drew a long, thin knife and +advanced, stooping. Two cadaverous hounds came from nowhere, and, +scowling and growling, made desperate feints at the little man's legs. +His quaking companions pushed him forward. + +Tremblingly he put his hand to his pocket. + +"How much?" he said, with a shivering look at the knife that glittered. + +The carbuncles faded. + +"Three dollars," said the hermit, in sepulchral tones which rang against +the walls and among the passages, awakening long-dead spirits with +voices. The shaking little man took a roll of bills from a pocket and +placed "three ones" upon the altar-like stone. The recluse looked at the +little volume with reverence in his eyes. It was a pack of playing +cards. + +Under the three swinging candles, upon the altar-like stone, the grey +beard and the agonized little man played at poker. The three other men +crouched in a corner, and stared with eyes that gleamed with terror. +Before them sat the cadaverous hounds licking their red lips. The +candles burned low, and began to flicker. The fire in the corner +expired. + +Finally, the game came to a point where the little man laid down his +hand and quavered: "I can't call you this time, sir. I'm dead broke." + +"What?" shrieked the recluse. "Not call me! Villain Dastard! Cur! I have +four queens, miscreant." His voice grew so mighty that it could not fit +his throat. He choked wrestling with his lungs for a moment. Then the +power of his body was concentrated in a word: "Go!" + +He pointed a quivering, yellow finger at a wide crack in the rock. The +little man threw himself at it with a howl. His erstwhile frozen +companions felt their blood throb again. With great bounds they plunged +after the little man. A minute of scrambling, falling, and pushing +brought them to open air. They climbed the distance to their camp in +furious springs. + +The sky in the east was a lurid yellow. In the west the footprints of +departing night lay on the pine trees. In front of their replenished +camp fire sat John Willerkins, the guide. + +"Hello!" he shouted at their approach. "Be you fellers ready to go deer +huntin'?" + +Without replying, they stopped and debated among themselves in whispers. + +Finally, the pudgy man came forward. + +"John," he inquired, "do you know anything peculiar about this cave +below here?" + +"Yes," said Willerkins at once; "Tom Gardner." + +"What?" said the pudgy man. + +"Tom Gardner." + +"How's that?" + +"Well, you see," said Willerkins slowly, as he took dignified pulls at +his pipe, "Tom Gardner was once a fambly man, who lived in these here +parts on a nice leetle farm. He uster go away to the city orften, and +one time he got a-gamblin' in one of them there dens. He went ter the +dickens right quick then. At last he kum home one time and tol' his +folks he had up and sold the farm and all he had in the worl'. His +leetle wife she died then. Tom he went crazy, and soon after--" + +The narrative was interrupted by the little man, who became possessed of +devils. + +"I wouldn't give a cuss if he had left me 'nough money to get home on +the doggoned, grey-haired red pirate," he shrilled, in a seething +sentence. The pudgy man gazed at the little man calmly and sneeringly. + +"Oh, well," he said, "we can tell a great tale when we get back to the +city after having investigated this thing." + +"Go to the devil," replied the little man. + + + + +THE MESMERIC MOUNTAIN + + +A TALE OF SULLIVAN COUNTY + +On the brow of a pine-plumed hillock there sat a little man with his +back against a tree. A venerable pipe hung from his mouth, and smoke- +wreaths curled slowly skyward, he was muttering to himself with his eyes +fixed on an irregular black opening in the green wall of forest at the +foot of the hill. Two vague wagon ruts led into the shadows. The little +man took his pipe in his hands and addressed the listening pines. + +"I wonder what the devil it leads to," said he. + +A grey, fat rabbit came lazily from a thicket and sat in the opening. +Softly stroking his stomach with his paw, he looked at the little man in +a thoughtful manner. The little man threw a stone, and the rabbit +blinked and ran through an opening. Green, shadowy portals seemed to +close behind him. + +The little man started. "He's gone down that roadway," he said, with +ecstatic mystery to the pines. He sat a long time and contemplated the +door to the forest. Finally, he arose, and awakening his limbs, started +away. But he stopped and looked back. + +"I can't imagine what it leads to," muttered he. He trudged over the +brown mats of pine needles, to where, in a fringe of laurel, a tent was +pitched, and merry flames caroused about some logs. A pudgy man was +fuming over a collection of tin dishes. He came forward and waved a +plate furiously in the little man's face. + +"I've washed the dishes for three days. What do you think I am--" + +He ended a red oration with a roar: "Damned if I do it any more." + +The little man gazed dim-eyed away. "I've been wonderin' what it leads +to." + +"What?" + +"That road out yonder. I've been wonderin' what it leads to. Maybe, some +discovery or something," said the little man. + +The pudgy man laughed. "You're an idiot. It leads to ol' Jim Boyd's over +on the Lumberland Pike." + +"Ho!" said the little man, "I don't believe that." + +The pudgy man swore. "Fool, what does it lead to, then?" + +"I don't know just what, but I'm sure it leads to something great or +something. It looks like it." + +While the pudgy man was cursing, two more men came from obscurity with +fish dangling from birch twigs. The pudgy man made an obviously +herculean struggle and a meal was prepared. As he was drinking his cup +of coffee, he suddenly spilled it and swore. The little man was +wandering off. + +"He's gone to look at that hole," cried the pudgy man. + +The little man went to the edge of the pine-plumed hillock, and, sitting +down, began to make smoke and regard the door to the forest. There was +stillness for an hour. Compact clouds hung unstirred in the sky. The +pines stood motionless, and pondering. + +Suddenly the little man slapped his knees and bit his tongue. He stood +up and determinedly filled his pipe, rolling his eye over the bowl to +the doorway. Keeping his eyes fixed he slid dangerously to the foot of +the hillock and walked down the wagon ruts. A moment later he passed +from the noise of the sunshine to the gloom of the woods. + +The green portals closed, shutting out live things. The little man +trudged on alone. + +Tall tangled grass grew in the roadway, and the trees bended obstructing +branches. The little man followed on over pine-clothed ridges and down +through water-soaked swales. His shoes were cut by rocks of the +mountains, and he sank ankle-deep in mud and moss of swamps. A curve +just ahead lured him miles. + +Finally, as he wended the side of a ridge, the road disappeared from +beneath his feet. He battled with hordes of ignorant bushes on his way +to knolls and solitary trees which invited him. Once he came to a tall, +bearded pine. He climbed it, and perceived in the distance a peak. He +uttered an ejaculation and fell out. + +He scrambled to his feet, and said: "That's Jones's Mountain, I guess. +It's about six miles from our camp as the crow flies." + +He changed his course away from the mountain, and attacked the bushes +again. He climbed over great logs, golden-brown in decay, and was +opposed by thickets of dark-green laurel. A brook slid through the ooze +of a swamp, cedars and hemlocks hung their spray to the edges of pools. + +The little man began to stagger in his walk. After a time he stopped and +mopped his brow. + +"My legs are about to shrivel up and drop off," he said.... "Still if I +keep on in this direction, I am safe to strike the Lumberland Pike +before sundown." + +He dived at a clump of tag-alders, and emerging, confronted Jones's +Mountain. + +The wanderer sat down in a clear space and fixed his eyes on the summit. +His mouth opened widely, and his body swayed at times. The little man +and the peak stared in silence. + +A lazy lake lay asleep near the foot of the mountain. In its bed of +water-grass some frogs leered at the sky and crooned. The sun sank in +red silence, and the shadows of the pines grew formidable. The expectant +hush of evening, as if some thing were going to sing a hymn, fell upon +the peak and the little man. + +A leaping pickerel off on the water created a silver circle that was +lost in black shadows. The little man shook himself and started to his +feet, crying: "For the love of Mike, there's eyes in this mountain! I +feel 'em! Eyes!" + +He fell on his face. + +When he looked again, he immediately sprang erect and ran. + +"It's comin'!" + +The mountain was approaching. + +The little man scurried, sobbing through the thick growth. He felt his +brain turning to water. He vanquished brambles with mighty bounds. + +But after a time he came again to the foot of the mountain. + +"God!" he howled, "it's been follerin' me." He grovelled. + +Casting his eyes upward made circles swirl in his blood. + +"I'm shackled I guess," he moaned. As he felt the heel of the mountain +about to crush his head, he sprang again to his feet. He grasped a +handful of small stones and hurled them. + +"Damn you," he shrieked loudly. The pebbles rang against the face of the +mountain. + +The little man then made an attack. He climbed with hands and feet +wildly. Brambles forced him back and stones slid from beneath his feet. +The peak swayed and tottered, and was ever about to smite with a granite +arm. The summit was a blaze of red wrath. + +But the little man at last reached the top. Immediately he swaggered +with valor to the edge of the cliff. His hands were scornfully in his +pockets. + +He gazed at the western horizon, edged sharply against a yellow sky. +"Ho!" he said. "There's Boyd's house and the Lumberland Pike." + +The mountain under his feet was motionless. + + + + +THE SNAKE + + +Where the path wended across the ridge, the bushes of huckleberry and +sweet fern swarmed at it in two curling waves until it was a mere +winding line traced through a tangle. There was no interference by +clouds, and as the rays of the sun fell full upon the ridge, they called +into voice innumerable insects which chanted the heat of the summer day +in steady, throbbing, unending chorus. + +A man and a dog came from the laurel thickets of the valley where the +white brook brawled with the rocks. They followed the deep line of the +path across the ridges. The dog--a large lemon and white setter--walked, +tranquilly meditative, at his master's heels. + +Suddenly from some unknown and yet near place in advance there came a +dry, shrill whistling rattle that smote motion instantly from the limbs +of the man and the dog. Like the fingers of a sudden death, this sound +seemed to touch the man at the nape of the neck, at the top of the +spine, and change him, as swift as thought, to a statue of listening +horror, surprise, rage. The dog, too--the same icy hand was laid upon +him, and he stood crouched and quivering, his jaw dropping, the froth of +terror upon his lips, the light of hatred in his eyes. + +Slowly the man moved his hands toward the bushes, but his glance did not +turn from the place made sinister by the warning rattle. His fingers, +unguided, sought for a stick of weight and strength. Presently they +closed about one that seemed adequate, and holding this weapon poised +before him the man moved slowly forward, glaring. The dog with his +nervous nostrils fairly fluttering moved warily, one foot at a time, +after his master. + +But when the man came upon the snake, his body underwent a shock as if +from a revelation, as if after all he had been ambushed. With a blanched +face, he sprang forward and his breath came in strained gasps, his chest +heaving as if he were in the performance of an extraordinary muscular +trial. His arm with the stick made a spasmodic, defensive gesture. + +The snake had apparently been crossing the path in some mystic travel +when to his sense there came the knowledge of the coming of his foes. +The dull vibration perhaps informed him, and he flung his body to face +the danger. He had no knowledge of paths; he had no wit to tell him to +slink noiselessly into the bushes. He knew that his implacable enemies +were approaching; no doubt they were seeking him, hunting him. And so he +cried his cry, an incredibly swift jangle of tiny bells, as burdened +with pathos as the hammering upon quaint cymbals by the Chinese at war-- +for, indeed, it was usually his death-music. + +"Beware! Beware! Beware!" + +The man and the snake confronted each other. In the man's eyes were +hatred and fear. In the snake's eyes were hatred and fear. These enemies +maneuvered, each preparing to kill. It was to be a battle without mercy. +Neither knew of mercy for such a situation. In the man was all the wild +strength of the terror of his ancestors, of his race, of his kind. A +deadly repulsion had been handed from man to man through long dim +centuries. This was another detail of a war that had begun evidently +when first there were men and snakes. Individuals who do not participate +in this strife incur the investigations of scientists. Once there was a +man and a snake who were friends, and at the end, the man lay dead with +the marks of the snake's caress just over his East Indian heart. In the +formation of devices, hideous and horrible, Nature reached her supreme +point in the making of the snake, so that priests who really paint hell +well fill it with snakes instead of fire. The curving forms, these +scintillant coloring create at once, upon sight, more relentless +animosities than do shake barbaric tribes. To be born a snake is to be +thrust into a place a-swarm with formidable foes. To gain an +appreciation of it, view hell as pictured by priests who are really +skilful. + +As for this snake in the pathway, there was a double curve some inches +back of its head, which, merely by the potency of its lines, made the +man feel with tenfold eloquence the touch of the death-fingers at the +nape of his neck. The reptile's head was waving slowly from side to side +and its hot eyes flashed like little murder-lights. Always in the air +was the dry, shrill whistling of the rattles. + +"Beware! Beware! Beware!" + +The man made a preliminary feint with his stick. Instantly the snake's +heavy head and neck were bended back on the double curve and instantly +the snake's body shot forward in a low, strait, hard spring. The man +jumped with a convulsive chatter and swung his stick. The blind, +sweeping blow fell upon the snake's head and hurled him so that steel- +colored plates were for a moment uppermost. But he rallied swiftly, +agilely, and again the head and neck bended back to the double curve, +and the steaming, wide-open mouth made its desperate effort to reach its +enemy. This attack, it could be seen, was despairing, but it was +nevertheless impetuous, gallant, ferocious, of the same quality as the +charge of the lone chief when the walls of white faces close upon him in +the mountains. The stick swung unerringly again, and the snake, +mutilated, torn, whirled himself into the last coil. + +And now the man went sheer raving mad from the emotions of his +forefathers and from his own. He came to close quarters. He gripped the +stick with his two hands and made it speed like a flail. The snake, +tumbling in the anguish of final despair, fought, bit, flung itself upon +this stick which was taking his life. + +At the end, the man clutched his stick and stood watching in silence. +The dog came slowly and with infinite caution stretched his nose +forward, sniffing. The hair upon his neck and back moved and ruffled as +if a sharp wind was blowing, the last muscular quivers of the snake were +causing the rattles to still sound their treble cry, the shrill, ringing +war chant and hymn of the grave of the thing that faces foes at once +countless, implacable, and superior. + +"Well, Rover," said the man, turning to the dog with a grin of victory, +"we'll carry Mr. Snake home to show the girls." + +His hands still trembled from the strain of the encounter, but he pried +with his stick under the body of the snake and hoisted the limp thing +upon it. He resumed his march along the path, and the dog walked +tranquilly meditative, at his master's heels. + + + + +LONDON IMPRESSIONS + + +CHAPTER I + +London at first consisted of a porter with the most charming manners in +the world, and a cabman with a supreme intelligence, both observing my +profound ignorance without contempt or humor of any kind observable in +their manners. It was in a great resounding vault of a place where there +were many people who had come home, and I was displeased because they +knew the detail of the business, whereas I was confronting the +inscrutable. This made them appear very stony-hearted to the sufferings +of one of whose existence, to be sure, they were entirely unaware, and I +remember taking great pleasure in disliking them heartily for it. I was +in an agony of mind over my baggage, or my luggage, or my--perhaps it is +well to shy around this terrible international question; but I remember +that when I was a lad I was told that there was a whole nation that said +luggage instead of baggage, and my boyish mind was filled at the time +with incredulity and scorn. In the present case it was a thing that I +understood to involve the most hideous confessions of imbecility on my +part, because I had evidently to go out to some obscure point and espy +it and claim it, and take trouble for it; and I would rather have had my +pockets filled with bread and cheese, and had no baggage at all. + +Mind you, this was not at all a homage that I was paying to London. I +was paying homage to a new game. A man properly lazy does not like new +experiences until they become old ones. Moreover, I have been taught +that a man, any man, who has a thousand times more points of information +on a certain thing than I have will bully me because of it, and pour his +advantages upon my bowed head until I am drenched with his superiority. +It was in my education to concede some license of the kind in this case, +but the holy father of a porter and the saintly cabman occupied the +middle distance imperturbably, and did not come down from their hills to +clout me with knowledge. From this fact I experienced a criminal +elation. I lost view of the idea that if I had been brow-beaten by +porters and cabmen from one end of the United States to the other end I +should warmly like it, because in numbers they are superior to me, and +collectively they can have a great deal of fun out of a matter that +would merely afford me the glee of the latent butcher. + +This London, composed of a porter and a cabman, stood to me subtly as a +benefactor. I had scanned the drama, and found that I did not believe +that the mood of the men emanated unduly from the feature that there was +probably more shillings to the square inch of me than there were +shillings to the square inch of them. Nor yet was it any manner of +palpable warm-heartedness or other natural virtue. But it was a perfect +artificial virtue; it was drill, plain, simple drill. And now was I glad +of their drilling, and vividly approved of it, because I saw that it was +good for me. Whether it was good or bad for the porter and the cabman I +could not know; but that point, mark you, came within the pale of my +respectable rumination. + +I am sure that it would have been more correct for me to have alighted +upon St. Paul's and described no emotion until I was overcome by the +Thames Embankment and the Houses of Parliament. But as a matter of fact +I did not see them for some days, and at this time they did not concern +me at all. I was born in London at a railroad station, and my new vision +encompassed a porter and a cabman. They deeply absorbed me in new +phenomena, and I did not then care to see the Thames Embankment nor the +Houses of Parliament. I considered the porter and the cabman to be more +important. + + +CHAPTER II + +The cab finally rolled out of the gas-lit vault into a vast expanse of +gloom. This changed to the shadowy lines of a street that was like a +passage in a monstrous cave. The lamps winking here and there resembled +the little gleams at the caps of the miners. They were not very +competent illuminations at best, merely being little pale flares of gas +that at their most heroic periods could only display one fact concerning +this tunnel--the fact of general direction. But at any rate I should +have liked to have observed the dejection of a search-light if it had +been called upon to attempt to bore through this atmosphere. In it each +man sat in his own little cylinder of vision, so to speak. It was not so +small as a sentry-box nor so large as a circus tent, but the walls were +opaque, and what was passing beyond the dimensions of his cylinder no +man knew. + +It was evident that the paving was very greasy, but all the cabs that +passed through my cylinder were going at a round trot, while the wheels, +shod in rubber, whirred merely like bicycles. The hoofs of the animals +themselves did not make that wild clatter which I knew so well. New York +in fact, roars always like ten thousand devils. We have ingenuous and +simple ways of making a din in New York that cause the stranger to +conclude that each citizen is obliged by statute to provide himself with +a pair of cymbals and a drum. If anything by chance can be turned into a +noise it is promptly turned. We are engaged in the development of a +human creature with very large, sturdy, and doubly, fortified ears. + +It was not too late at night, but this London moved with the decorum and +caution of an undertaker. There was a silence, and yet there was no +silence. There was a low drone, perhaps a humming contributed inevitably +by closely-gathered thousands, and yet on second thoughts it was to me +silence. I had perched my ears for the note of London, the sound made +simply by the existence of five million people in one place. I had +imagined something deep, vastly deep, a bass from a mythical organ, but +found as far as I was concerned, only a silence. + +New York in numbers is a mighty city, and all day and all night it cries +its loud, fierce, aspiring cry, a noise of men beating upon barrels, a +noise of men beating upon tin, a terrific racket that assails the abject +skies. No one of us seemed to question this row as a certain consequence +of three or four million people living together and scuffling for coin, +with more agility, perhaps, but otherwise in the usual way. However, +after this easy silence of London, which in numbers is a mightier city, +I began to feel that there was a seduction in this idea of necessity. +Our noise in New York was not a consequence of our rapidity at all. It +was a consequence of our bad pavements. + +Any brigade of artillery in Europe that would love to assemble its +batteries, and then go on a gallop over the land, thundering and +thundering, would give up the idea of thunder at once if it could hear +Tim Mulligan drive a beer wagon along one of the side streets of cobbled +New York. + + +CHAPTER III + +Finally a great thing came to pass. The cab horse, proceeding at a sharp +trot, found himself suddenly at the top of an incline, where through the +rain the pavement shone like an expanse of ice. It looked to me as if +there was going to be a tumble. In an accident of such a kind a hansom +becomes really a cannon in which a man finds that he has paid shillings +for the privilege of serving as a projectile. I was making a rapid +calculation of the arc that I would describe in my flight, when the +horse met his crisis with a masterly device that I could not have +imagined. He tranquilly braced his four feet like a bundle of stakes, +and then, with a gentle gaiety of demeanor, he slid swiftly and +gracefully to the bottom of the hill as if he had been a toboggan. When +the incline ended he caught his gait again with great dexterity, and +went pattering off through another tunnel. + +I at once looked upon myself as being singularly blessed by this sight. +This horse had evidently originated this system of skating as a +diversion, or, more probably, as a precaution against the slippery +pavement; and he was, of course the inventor and sole proprietor--two +terms that are not always in conjunction. It surely was not to be +supposed that there could be two skaters like him in the world. He +deserved to be known and publicly praised for this accomplishment. It +was worthy of many records and exhibitions. But when the cab arrived at +a place where some dipping streets met, and the flaming front of a +music-hall temporarily widened my cylinder, behold there were many cabs, +and as the moment of necessity came the horses were all skaters. They +were gliding in all directions. It might have been a rink. A great +omnibus was hailed by a hand under an umbrella on the side walk, and the +dignified horses bidden to halt from their trot did not waste time in +wild and unseemly spasms. They, too, braced their legs and slid gravely +to the end of their momentum. + +It was not the feat, but it was the word which had at this time the +power to conjure memories of skating parties on moonlit lakes, with +laughter ringing over the ice, and a great red bonfire on the shore +among the hemlocks. + + +CHAPTER IV + +A Terrible thing in nature is the fall of a horse in his harness. It is +a tragedy. Despite their skill in skating there was that about the +pavement on the rainy evening which filled me with expectations of +horses going headlong. Finally it happened just in front. There was a +shout and a tangle in the darkness, and presently a prostrate cab horse +came within my cylinder. The accident having been a complete success and +altogether concluded, a voice from the side walk said, "_Look_ out, +now! _Be_ more careful, can't you?" + +I remember a constituent of a Congressman at Washington who had tried in +vain to bore this Congressman with a wild project of some kind. The +Congressman eluded him with skill, and his rage and despair ultimately +culminated in the supreme grievance that he could not even get near +enough to the Congressman to tell him to go to Hades. + +This cabman should have felt the same desire to strangle this man who +spoke from the sidewalk. He was plainly impotent; he was deprived of the +power of looking out. There was nothing now for which to look out. The +man on the sidewalk had dragged a corpse from a pond and said to it, + +"_Be_ more careful, can't you, or you'll drown?" My cabman pulled +up and addressed a few words of reproach to the other. Three or four +figures loomed into my cylinder, and as they appeared spoke to the +author or the victim of the calamity in varied terms of displeasure. +Each of these reproaches was couched in terms that defined the situation +as impending. No blind man could have conceived that the precipitate +phrase of the incident was absolutely closed. + +"_Look_ out now, cawn't you?" And there was nothing in his mind +which approached these sentiments near enough to tell them to go to +Hades. + +However, it needed only an ear to know presently that these expressions +were formulae. It was merely the obligatory dance which the Indians had +to perform before they went to war. These men had come to help, but as a +regular and traditional preliminary they had first to display to this +cabman their idea of his ignominy. + +The different thing in the affair was the silence of the victim. He +retorted never a word. This, too, to me seemed to be an obedience to a +recognized form. He was the visible criminal, if there was a criminal, +and there was born of it a privilege for them. + +They unfastened the proper straps and hauled back the cab. They fetched +a mat from some obscure place of succor, and pushed it carefully under +the prostrate thing. From this panting, quivering mass they suddenly and +emphatically reconstructed a horse. As each man turned to go his way he +delivered some superior caution to the cabman while the latter buckled +his harness. + + +CHAPTER V + +There was to be noticed in this band of rescuers a young man in evening +clothes and top-hat. Now, in America a young man in evening clothes and +a top-hat may be a terrible object. He is not likely to do violence, but +he is likely to do impassivity and indifference to the point where they +become worse than violence. There are certain of the more idle phases of +civilization to which America has not yet awakened--and it is a matter +of no moment if she remains unaware. This matter of hats is one of them. +I recall a legend recited to me by an esteemed friend, ex-Sheriff of Tin +Can, Nevada. Jim Cortright, one of the best gun-fighters in town, went +on a journey to Chicago, and while there he procured a top-hat. He was +quite sure how Tin Can would accept this innovation, but he relied on +the celerity with which he could get a six-shooter in action. One Sunday +Jim examined his guns with his usual care, placed the top-hat on the +back of his head, and sauntered coolly out into the streets of Tin Can. + +Now, while Jim was in Chicago some progressive citizen had decided that +Tin Can needed a bowling alley. The carpenters went to work the next +morning, and an order for the balls and pins was telegraphed to Denver. +In three days the whole population was concentrated at the new alley +betting their outfits and their lives. + +It has since been accounted very unfortunate that Jim Cortright had not +learned of bowling alleys at his mother's knee or even later in the +mines. This portion of his mind was singularly belated. He might have +been an Apache for all he knew of bowling alleys. + +In his careless stroll through the town, his hands not far from his belt +and his eyes going sideways in order to see who would shoot first at the +hat, he came upon this long, low shanty where Tin Can was betting itself +hoarse over a game between a team from the ranks of Excelsior Hose +Company No. 1 and a team composed from the _habitues_ of the "Red +Light" saloon. + +Jim, in blank ignorance of bowling phenomena, wandered casually through +a little door into what must always be termed the wrong end of a bowling +alley. Of course, he saw that the supreme moment had come. They were not +only shooting at the hat and at him, but the low-down cusses were using +the most extraordinary and hellish ammunition. Still, perfectly +undaunted, however, Jim retorted with his two Colts, and killed three of +the best bowlers in Tin Can. + +The ex-Sheriff vouched for this story. He himself had gone headlong +through the door at the firing of the first shot with that simple +courtesy which leads Western men to donate the fighters plenty of room. +He said that afterwards the hat was the cause of a number of other +fights, and that finally a delegation of prominent citizens was obliged +to wait upon Cortright and ask him if he wouldn't take that thing away +somewhere and bury it. Jim pointed out to them that it was his hat, and +that he would regard it as a cowardly concession if he submitted to +their dictation in the matter of his headgear. He added that he purposed +to continue to wear his top-hat on every occasion when he happened to +feel that the wearing of a top-hat was a joy and a solace to him. + +The delegation sadly retired, and announced to the town that Jim +Cortright had openly defied them, and had declared his purpose of +forcing his top-hat on the pained attention of Tin Can whenever he +chose. Jim Cortright's plug hat became a phrase with considerable +meaning to it. + +However, the whole affair ended in a great passionate outburst of +popular revolution. Spike Foster was a friend of Cortright, and one day, +when the latter was indisposed, Spike came to him and borrowed the hat. +He had been drinking heavily at the "Red Light," and was in a supremely +reckless mood. With the terrible gear hanging jauntily over his eye and +his two guns drawn, he walked straight out into the middle of the square +in front of the Palace Hotel, and drew the attention of all Tin Can by a +blood-curdling imitation of the yowl of a mountain lion. + +This was when the long suffering populace arose as one man. The top-hat +had been flaunted once too often. When Spike Foster's friends came to +carry him away they found nearly a hundred and fifty men shooting busily +at a mark--and the mark was the hat. + +My informant told me that he believed he owed his popularity in Tin Can, +and subsequently his election to the distinguished office of Sheriff, to +the active and prominent part he had taken in the proceedings. + +The enmity to the top-hat expressed by the convincing anecdote exists in +the American West at present, I think, in the perfection of its +strength; but disapproval is not now displayed by volleys from the +citizens, save in the most aggravating cases. It is at present usually a +matter of mere jibe and general contempt. The East, however, despite a +great deal of kicking and gouging, is having the top-hat stuffed slowly +and carefully down its throat, and there now exist many young men who +consider that they could not successfully conduct their lives without +this furniture. + +To speak generally, I should say that the headgear then supplies them +with a kind of ferocity of indifference. There is fire, sword, and +pestilence in the way they heed only themselves. Philosophy should +always know that indifference is a militant thing. It batters down the +walls of cities, and murders the women and children amid flames and the +purloining of altar vessels. When it goes away it leaves smoking ruins, +where lie citizens bayoneted through the throat. It is not a children's +pastime like mere highway robbery. + +Consequently in America we may be much afraid of these young men. We +dive down alleys so that we may not kowtow. It is a fearsome thing. + +Taught thus a deep fear of the top-hat in its effect upon youth, I was +not prepared for the move of this particular young man when the cab- +horse fell. In fact, I grovelled in my corner that I might not see the +cruel stateliness of his passing. But in the meantime he had crossed the +street, and contributed the strength of his back and some advice, as +well as the formal address, to the cabman on the importance of looking +out immediately. + +I felt that I was making a notable collection. I had a new kind of +porter, a cylinder of vision, horses that could skate, and now I added a +young man in a top-hat who would tacitly admit that the beings around +him were alive. He was not walking a churchyard filled with inferior +headstones. He was walking the world, where there were people, many +people. + +But later I took him out of the collection. I thought he had rebelled +against the manner of a class, but I soon discovered that the top-hat +was not the property of a class. It was the property of rogues, clerks, +theatrical agents, damned seducers, poor men, nobles, and others. In +fact, it was the universal rigging. It was the only hat; all other forms +might as well be named ham, or chops, or oysters. I retracted my +admiration of the young man because he may have been merely a rogue. + + +CHAPTER VI + +There was a window whereat an enterprising man by dodging two placards +and a calendar was entitled to view a young woman. She was dejectedly +writing in a large book. She was ultimately induced to open the window a +trifle. "What nyme, please?" she said wearily. I was surprised to hear +this language from her. I had expected to be addressed on a submarine +topic. I have seen shell fishes sadly writing in large books at the +bottom of a gloomy acquarium who could not ask me what was my "nyme." + +At the end of the hall there was a grim portal marked "lift." I pressed +an electric button and heard an answering tinkle in the heavens. There +was an upholstered settle near at hand, and I discovered the reason. A +deer-stalking peace drooped upon everything, and in it a man could +invoke the passing of a lazy pageant of twenty years of his life. The +dignity of a coffin being lowered into a grave surrounded the ultimate +appearance of the lift. The expert we in America call the elevator-boy +stepped from the car, took three paces forward, faced to attention and +saluted. This elevator boy could not have been less than sixty years of +age; a great white beard streamed towards his belt. I saw that the lift +had been longer on its voyage than I had suspected. + +Later in our upward progress a natural event would have been an +establishment of social relations. Two enemies imprisoned together +during the still hours of a balloon journey would, I believe, suffer a +mental amalgamation. The overhang of a common fate, a great principal +fact, can make an equality and a truce between any pair. Yet, when I +disembarked, a final survey of the grey beard made me recall that I had +failed even to ask the boy whether he had not taken probably three trips +on this lift. + +My windows overlooked simply a great sea of night, in which were +swimming little gas fishes. + + +CHAPTER VII + +I have of late been led to reflect wistfully that many of the +illustrators are very clever. In an impatience, which was donated by a +certain economy of apparel, I went to a window to look upon day-lit +London. There were the 'buses parading the streets with the miens of +elephants There were the police looking precisely as I had been informed +by the prints. There were the sandwich-men. There was almost everything. + +But the artists had not told me the sound of London. Now, in New York +the artists are able to portray sound because in New York a dray is not +a dray at all; it is a great potent noise hauled by two or more horses. +When a magazine containing an illustration of a New York street is sent +to me, I always know it beforehand. I can hear it coming through the +mails. As I have said previously, this which I must call sound of London +was to me only a silence. + +Later, in front of the hotel a cabman that I hailed said to me--"Are you +gowing far, sir? I've got a byby here, and want to giv'er a bit of a +blough." This impressed me as being probably a quotation from an early +Egyptian poet, but I learned soon enough that the word "byby" was the +name of some kind or condition of horse. The cabman's next remark was +addressed to a boy who took a perilous dive between the byby's nose and +a cab in front. "That's roight. Put your head in there and get it +jammed--a whackin good place for it, I should think." Although the tone +was low and circumspect, I have never heard a better off-handed +declamation. Every word was cut clear of disreputable alliances with its +neighbors. The whole thing was clean as a row of pewter mugs. The +influence of indignation upon the voice caused me to reflect that we +might devise a mechanical means of inflaming some in that constellation +of mummers which is the heritage of the Anglo-Saxon race. + +Then I saw the drilling of vehicles by two policemen. There were four +torrents converging at a point, and when four torrents converge at one +point engineering experts buy tickets for another place. + +But here, again, it was drill, plain, simple drill. I must not falter in +saying that I think the management of the traffic--as the phrase goes-- +to be distinctly illuminating and wonderful. The police were not ruffled +and exasperated. They were as peaceful as two cows in a pasture. + +I can remember once remarking that mankind, with all its boasted modern +progress, had not yet been able to invent a turnstile that will commute +in fractions. I have now learned that 756 rights-of-way cannot operate +simultaneously at one point. Right-of-way, like fighting women, requires +space. Even two rights-of-way can make a scene which is only suited to +the tastes of an ancient public. + +This truth was very evidently recognized. There was only one right-of- +way at a time. The police did not look behind them to see if their +orders were to be obeyed; they knew they were to be obeyed. These four +torrents were drilling like four battalions. The two blue-cloth men +maneuvered them in solemn, abiding peace, the silence of London. + +I thought at first that it was the intellect of the individual, but I +looked at one constable closely and his face was as afire with +intelligence as a flannel pin-cushion. It was not the police, and it was +not the crowd. It was the police and the crowd. Again, it was drill. + + +CHAPTER VIII + +I have never been in the habit of reading signs. I don't like to read +signs. I have never met a man that liked to read signs. I once invented +a creature who could play the piano with a hammer, and I mentioned him +to a professor in Harvard University whose peculiarity was Sanscrit. He +had the same interest in my invention that I have in a certain kind of +mustard. And yet this mustard has become a part of me. Or, I have become +a part of this mustard. Further, I know more of an ink, a brand of hams, +a kind of cigarette, and a novelist than any man living. I went by train +to see a friend in the country, and after passing through a patent +mucilage, some more hams, a South African Investment Company, a Parisian +millinery firm, and a comic journal, I alighted at a new and original +kind of corset. On my return journey the road almost continuously ran +through soap. + +I have accumulated superior information concerning these things, because +I am at their mercy. If I want to know where I am I must find the +definitive sign. This accounts for my glib use of the word mucilage, as +well as the titles of other staples. + +I suppose even the Briton in mixing his life must sometimes consult the +labels on 'buses and streets and stations, even as the chemist consults +the labels on his bottles and boxes. A brave man would possibly affirm +that this was suggested by the existence of the labels. + +The reason that I did not learn more about hams and mucilage in New York +seems to me to be partly due to the fact that the British advertiser is +allowed to exercise an unbridled strategy in his attack with his new +corset or whatever upon the defensive public. He knows that the +vulnerable point is the informatory sign which the citizen must, of +course, use for his guidance, and then, with horse, foot, guns, corsets, +hams, mucilage, investment companies, and all, he hurls himself at the +point. + +Meanwhile I have discovered a way to make the Sanscrit scholar heed my +creature who plays the piano with a hammer. + + + + +THE SCOTCH EXPRESS + + +The entrance to Euston Station is of itself sufficiently imposing. It +is a high portico of brown stone, old and grim, in form a casual +imitation, no doubt, of the front of the temple of Nike Apteros, with a +recollection of the Egyptians proclaimed at the flanks. The frieze, +where of old would prance an exuberant processional of gods, is, in this +case, bare of decoration, but upon the epistyle is written in simple, +stern letters the word "EUSTON." The legend reared high by the gloomy +Pelagic columns stares down a wide avenue, In short, this entrance to a +railway station does not in any way resemble the entrance to a railway +station. It is more the front of some venerable bank. But it has another +dignity, which is not born of form. To a great degree, it is to the +English and to those who are in England the gate to Scotland. + +The little hansoms are continually speeding through the gate, dashing +between the legs of the solemn temple; the four-wheelers, their tops +crowded with luggage, roll in and out constantly, and the footways beat +under the trampling of the people. Of course, there are the suburbs and +a hundred towns along the line, and Liverpool, the beginning of an +important sea-path to America, and the great manufacturing cities of the +North; but if one stands at this gate in August particularly, one must +note the number of men with gun-cases, the number of women who surely +have Tam-o'-Shanters and plaids concealed within their luggage, ready +for the moors. There is, during the latter part of that month, a +wholesale flight from London to Scotland which recalls the July throngs +leaving New York for the shore or the mountains. + +The hansoms, after passing through this impressive portal of the +station, bowl smoothly across a courtyard which is in the center of the +terminal hotel, an institution dear to most railways in Europe. The +traveler lands amid a swarm of porters, and then proceeds cheerfully to +take the customary trouble for his luggage. America provides a +contrivance in a thousand situations where Europe provides a man or +perhaps a number of men, and the work of our brass check is here done by +porters, directed by the traveler himself. The men lack the memory of +the check; the check never forgets its identity. Moreover, the European +railways generously furnish the porters at the expense of the traveler. +Nevertheless, if these men have not the invincible business precision of +the check, and if they have to be tipped, it can be asserted for those +who care that in Europe one-half of the populace waits on the other half +most diligently and well. + +Against the masonry of a platform, under the vaulted arch of the train- +house, lay a long string of coaches. They were painted white on the +bulging part, which led halfway down from the top, and the bodies were a +deep bottle-green. There was a group of porters placing luggage in the +van, and a great many others were busy with the affairs of passengers, +tossing smaller bits of luggage into the racks over the seats, and +bustling here and there on short quests. The guard of the train, a tall +man who resembled one of the first Napoleon's veterans, was caring for +the distribution of passengers into the various bins. There were no +second-class compartments; they were all third and first-class. + +The train was at this time engineless, but presently a railway "flier," +painted a glowing vermilion, slid modestly down and took its place at +the head. The guard walked along the platform, and decisively closed +each door. He wore a dark blue uniform thoroughly decorated with silver +braid in the guise of leaves. The way of him gave to this business the +importance of a ceremony. Meanwhile the fireman had climbed down from +the cab and raised his hand, ready to transfer a signal to the driver, +who stood looking at his watch. In the interval there had something +progressed in the large signal box that stands guard at Euston. This +high house contains many levers, standing in thick, shining ranks. It +perfectly resembles an organ in some great church, if it were not that +these rows of numbered and indexed handles typify something more acutely +human than does a keyboard. It requires four men to play this organ-like +thing, and the strains never cease. Night and day, day and night, these +four men are walking to and fro, from this lever to that lever, and +under their hands the great machine raises its endless hymn of a world +at work, the fall and rise of signals and the clicking swing of +switches. + +And so as the vermilion engine stood waiting and looking from the shadow +of the curve-roofed station, a man in the signal house had played the +notes that informed the engine of its freedom. The driver saw the fall +of those proper semaphores which gave him liberty to speak to his steel +friend. A certain combination in the economy of the London and +Northwestern Railway, a combination which had spread from the men who +sweep out the carriages through innumerable minds to the general manager +himself, had resulted in the law that the vermilion engine, with its +long string of white and bottle-green coaches, was to start forthwith +toward Scotland. + +Presently the fireman, standing with his face toward the rear, let fall +his hand. "All right," he said. The driver turned a wheel, and as the +fireman slipped back, the train moved along the platform at the pace of +a mouse. To those in the tranquil carriages this starting was probably +as easy as the sliding of one's hand over a greased surface, but in the +engine there was more to it. The monster roared suddenly and loudly, and +sprang forward impetuously. A wrong-headed or maddened draft-horse will +plunge in its collar sometimes when going up a hill. But this load of +burdened carriages followed imperturbably at the gait of turtles. They +were not to be stirred from their way of dignified exit by the impatient +engine. The crowd of porters and transient people stood respectful. They +looked with the indefinite wonder of the railway-station sight-seer upon +the faces at the windows of the passing coaches. This train was off for +Scotland. It had started from the home of one accent to the home of +another accent. It was going from manner to manner, from habit to habit, +and in the minds of these London spectators there surely floated dim +images of the traditional kilts, the burring speech, the grouse, the +canniness, the oat-meal, all the elements of a romantic Scotland. + +The train swung impressively around the signal-house, and headed up a +brick-walled cut. In starting this heavy string of coaches, the engine +breathed explosively. It gasped, and heaved, and bellowed; once, for a +moment, the wheels spun on the rails, and a convulsive tremor shook the +great steel frame. + +The train itself, however, moved through this deep cut in the body of +London with coolness and precision, and the employees of the railway, +knowing the train's mission, tacitly presented arms at its passing. To +the travelers in the carriages, the suburbs of London must have been one +long monotony of carefully made walls of stone or brick. But after the +hill was climbed, the train fled through pictures of red habitations of +men on a green earth. + +But the noise in the cab did not greatly change its measure. Even though +the speed was now high, the tremendous thumping to be heard in the cab +was as alive with strained effort and as slow in beat as the breathing +of a half-drowned man. At the side of the track, for instance, the sound +doubtless would strike the ear in the familiar succession of incredibly +rapid puffs; but in the cab itself, this land-racer breathes very like +its friend, the marine engine. Everybody who has spent time on shipboard +has forever in his head a reminiscence of the steady and methodical +pounding of the engines, and perhaps it is curious that this relative +which can whirl over the land at such a pace, breathes in the leisurely +tones that a man heeds when he lies awake at night in his berth. + +There had been no fog in London, but here on the edge of the city a +heavy wind was blowing, and the driver leaned aside and yelled that it +was a very bad day for traveling on an engine. The engine-cabs of +England, as of all Europe, are seldom made for the comfort of the men. +One finds very often this apparent disregard for the man who does the +work--this indifference to the man who occupies a position which for the +exercise of temperance, of courage, of honesty, has no equal at the +altitude of prime ministers. The American engineer is the gilded +occupant of a salon in comparison with his brother in Europe. The man +who was guiding this five-hundred-ton bolt, aimed by the officials of +the railway at Scotland, could not have been as comfortable as a shrill +gibbering boatman of the Orient. The narrow and bare bench at his side +of the cab was not directly intended for his use, because it was so low +that he would be prevented by it from looking out of the ship's port- +hole which served him as a window. The fireman, on his side, had other +difficulties. His legs would have had to straggle over some pipes at the +only spot where there was a prospect, and the builders had also +strategically placed a large steel bolt. Of course it is plain that the +companies consistently believe that the men will do their work better if +they are kept standing. The roof of the cab was not altogether a roof. +It was merely a projection of two feet of metal from the bulkhead which +formed the front of the cab. There were practically no sides to it, and +the large cinders from the soft coal whirled around in sheets. From time +to time the driver took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his +blinking eyes. + +London was now well to the rear. The vermilion engine had been for some +time flying like the wind. This train averages, between London and +Carlisle forty-nine and nine-tenth miles an hour. It is a distance of +299 miles. There is one stop. It occurs at Crewe, and endures five +minutes. In consequence, the block signals flashed by seemingly at the +end of the moment in which they were sighted. + +There can be no question of the statement that the road-beds of English +railways are at present immeasurably superior to the American road-beds. +Of course there is a clear reason. It is known to every traveler that +peoples of the Continent of Europe have no right at all to own railways. +Those lines of travel are too childish and trivial for expression. A +correct fate would deprive the Continent of its railways, and give them +to somebody who knew about them. + +The continental idea of a railway is to surround a mass of machinery +with forty rings of ultra-military law, and then they believe they have +one complete. The Americans and the English are the railway peoples. +That our road-beds are poorer than the English road-beds is because of +the fact that we were suddenly obliged to build thousands upon thousands +of miles of railway, and the English were obliged to build slowly tens +upon tens of miles. A road-bed from New York to San Francisco, with +stations, bridges, and crossings of the kind that the London and +Northwestern owns from London to Glasgow, would cost a sum large enough +to support the German army for a term of years. The whole way is +constructed with the care that inspired the creators of some of our now +obsolete forts along the Atlantic coast. + +An American engineer, with his knowledge of the difficulties he had to +encounter--the wide rivers with variable banks, the mountain chains, +perhaps the long spaces of absolute desert; in fact, all the +perplexities of a vast and somewhat new country--would not dare spend a +respectable portion of his allowance on seventy feet of granite wall +over a gully, when he knew he could make an embankment with little cost +by heaving up the dirt and stones from here and there. But the English +road is all made in the pattern by which the Romans built their +highways. After England is dead, savants will find narrow streaks of +masonry leading from ruin to ruin. Of course this does not always seem +convincingly admirable. It sometimes resembles energy poured into a rat- +hole. There is a vale between expediency and the convenience of +posterity, a mid-ground which enables men surely to benefit the +hereafter people by valiantly advancing the present; and the point is +that, if some laborers live in unhealthy tenements in Cornwall, one is +likely to view with incomplete satisfaction the record of long and +patient labor and thought displayed by an eight-foot drain for a +nonexistent, impossible rivulet in the North. This sentence does not +sound strictly fair, but the meaning one wishes to convey is that if an +English company spies in its dream the ghost of an ancient valley that +later becomes a hill, it would construct for it a magnificent steel +trestle, and consider that a duty had been performed in proper +accordance with the company's conscience. But after all is said of it, +the accidents and the miles of railway operated in England are not in +proportion to the accidents and the miles of railway operated in the +United States. The reason can be divided into three parts--older +conditions, superior caution, the road-bed. And of these, the greatest +is older conditions. + +In this flight toward Scotland one seldom encountered a grade crossing. +In nine cases of ten there was either a bridge or a tunnel. The +platforms of even the remote country stations were all of ponderous +masonry in contrast to our constructions of planking. There was always +to be seen, as we thundered toward a station of this kind, a number of +porters in uniform, who requested the retreat of any one who had not the +wit to give us plenty of room. And then, as the shrill warning of the +whistle pierced even the uproar that was about us, came the wild joy of +the rush past a station. It was something in the nature of a triumphal +procession conducted at thrilling speed. Perhaps there was a curve of +infinite grace, a sudden hollow explosive effect made by the passing of +a signal-box that was close to the track, and then the deadly lunge to +shave the edge of a long platform. There were always a number of people +standing afar, with their eyes riveted upon this projectile, and to be +on the engine was to feel their interest and admiration in the terror +and grandeur of this sweep. A boy allowed to ride with the driver of the +band-wagon as a circus parade winds through one of our village streets +could not exceed for egotism the temper of a new man in the cab of a +train like this one. This valkyric journey on the back of the vermilion +engine, with the shouting of the wind, the deep, mighty panting of the +steed, the gray blur at the track-side, the flowing quicksilver ribbon +of the other rails, the sudden clash as a switch intersects, all the din +and fury of this ride, was of a splendor that caused one to look abroad +at the quiet, green landscape and believe that it was of a phlegm quiet +beyond patience. It should have been dark, rain-shot, and windy; thunder +should have rolled across its sky. + +It seemed, somehow, that if the driver should for a moment take his +hands from his engine, it might swerve from the track as a horse from +the road. Once, indeed, as he stood wiping his fingers on a bit of +waste, there must have been something ludicrous in the way the solitary +passenger regarded him. Without those finely firm hands on the bridle, +the engine might rear and bolt for the pleasant farms lying in the +sunshine at either side. + +This driver was worth contemplation. He was simply a quiet, middle-aged +man, bearded, and with the little wrinkles of habitual geniality and +kindliness spreading from the eyes toward the temple, who stood at his +post always gazing out, through his round window, while, from time to +time, his hands went from here to there over his levers. He seldom +changed either attitude or expression. There surely is no engine-driver +who does not feel the beauty of the business, but the emotion lies deep, +and mainly inarticulate, as it does in the mind of a man who has +experienced a good and beautiful wife for many years. This driver's face +displayed nothing but the cool sanity of a man whose thought was buried +intelligently in his business. If there was any fierce drama in it, +there was no sign upon him. He was so lost in dreams of speed and +signals and steam, that one speculated if the wonder of his tempestuous +charge and its career over England touched him, this impassive rider of +a fiery thing. + +It should be a well-known fact that, all over the world, the engine- +driver is the finest type of man that is grown. He is the pick of the +earth. He is altogether more worthy than the soldier, and better than +the men who move on the sea in ships. He is not paid too much; nor do +his glories weight his brow; but for outright performance, carried on +constantly, coolly, and without elation, by a temperate, honest, clear- +minded man, he is the further point. And so the lone human at his +station in a cab, guarding money, lives, and the honor of the road, is a +beautiful sight. The whole thing is aesthetic. The fireman presents the +same charm, but in a less degree, in that he is bound to appear as an +apprentice to the finished manhood of the driver. In his eyes, turned +always in question and confidence toward his superior, one finds this +quality; but his aspirations are so direct that one sees the same type +in evolution. + +There may be a popular idea that the fireman's principal function is to +hang his head out of the cab and sight interesting objects in the +landscape. As a matter of fact, he is always at work. The dragon is +insatiate. The fireman is continually swinging open the furnace-door, +whereat a red shine flows out upon the floor of the cab, and shoveling +in immense mouthfuls of coal to a fire that is almost diabolic in its +madness. The feeding, feeding, feeding goes on until it appears as if it +is the muscles of the fireman's arms that are speeding the long train. +An engine running over sixty-five miles an hour, with 500 tons to drag, +has an appetite in proportion to this task. + +View of the clear-shining English scenery is often interrupted between +London and Crew by long and short tunnels. The first one was +disconcerting. Suddenly one knew that the train was shooting toward a +black mouth in the hills. It swiftly yawned wider, and then in a moment +the engine dived into a place inhabitated by every demon of wind and +noise. The speed had not been checked, and the uproar was so great that +in effect one was simply standing at the center of a vast, black-walled +sphere. The tubular construction which one's reason proclaimed had no +meaning at all. It was a black sphere, alive with shrieks. But then on +the surface of it there was to be seen a little needle-point of light, +and this widened to a detail of unreal landscape. It was the world; the +train was going to escape from this cauldron, this abyss of howling +darkness. If a man looks through the brilliant water of a tropical pool, +he can sometimes see coloring the marvels at the bottom the blue that +was on the sky and the green that was on the foliage of this detail. And +the picture shimmered in the heat-rays of a new and remarkable sun. It +was when the train bolted out into the open air that one knew that it +was his own earth. + +Once train met train in a tunnel. Upon the painting in the perfectly +circular frame formed by the mouth there appeared a black square with +sparks bursting from it. This square expanded until it hid everything, +and a moment later came the crash of the passing. It was enough to make +a man lose his sense of balance. It was a momentary inferno when the +fireman opened the furnace door and was bathed in blood-red light as he +fed the fires. + +The effect of a tunnel varied when there was a curve in it. One was +merely whirling then heels over head, apparently in the dark, echoing +bowels of the earth. There was no needle-point of light to which one's +eyes clung as to a star. + +From London to Crew, the stern arm of the semaphore never made the train +pause even for an instant. There was always a clear track. It was great +to see, far in the distance, a goods train whooping smokily for the +north of England on one of the four tracks. The overtaking of such a +train was a thing of magnificent nothing for the long-strided engine, +and as the flying express passed its weaker brother, one heard one or +two feeble and immature puffs from the other engine, saw the fireman +wave his hand to his luckier fellow, saw a string of foolish, clanking +flat-cars, their freights covered with tarpaulins, and then the train +was lost to the rear. + +The driver twisted his wheel and worked some levers, and the rhythmical +chunking of the engine gradually ceased. Gliding at a speed that was +still high, the train curved to the left, and swung down a sharp +incline, to move with an imperial dignity through the railway yard at +Rugby. There was a maze of switches, innumerable engines noisily pushing +cars here and there, crowds of workmen who turned to look, a sinuous +curve around the long train-shed, whose high wall resounded with the +rumble of the passing express; and then, almost immediately, it seemed, +came the open country again. Rugby had been a dream which one could +properly doubt. At last the relaxed engine, with the same majesty of +ease, swung into the high-roofed station at Crewe, and stopped on a +platform lined with porters and citizens. There was instant bustle, and +in the interest of the moment no one seemed particularly to notice the +tired vermilion engine being led away. + +There is a five-minute stop at Crewe. A tandem of engines slip up, and +buckled fast to the train for the journey to Carlisle. In the meantime, +all the regulation items of peace and comfort had happened on the train +itself. The dining-car was in the center of the train. It was divided +into two parts, the one being a dining-room for first-class passengers, +and the other a dining-room for the third-class passengers. They were +separated by the kitchens and the larder. The engine, with all its +rioting and roaring, had dragged to Crewe a car in which numbers of +passengers were lunching in a tranquility that was almost domestic, on +an average menu of a chop and potatoes, a salad, cheese, and a bottle of +beer. Betimes they watched through the windows the great chimney-marked +towns of northern England. They were waited upon by a young man of +London, who was supported by a lad who resembled an American bell-boy. +The rather elaborate menu and service of the Pullman dining-car is not +known in England or on the Continent. Warmed roast beef is the exact +symbol of a European dinner, when one is traveling on a railway. + +This express is named, both by the public and the company, the "Corridor +Train," because a coach with a corridor is an unusual thing in England, +and so the title has a distinctive meaning. Of course, in America, where +there is no car which has not what we call an aisle, it would define +nothing. The corridors are all at one side of the car. Doors open thence +to little compartments made to seat four, or perhaps six, persons. The +first-class carriages are very comfortable indeed, being heavily +upholstered in dark, hard-wearing stuffs, with a bulging rest for the +head. The third-class accommodations on this train are almost as +comfortable as the first-class, and attract a kind of people that are +not usually seen traveling third-class in Europe. Many people sacrifice +their habit, in the matter of this train, to the fine conditions of the +lower fare. + +One of the feats of the train is an electric button in each compartment. +Commonly an electric button is placed high on the side of the carriage +as an alarm signal, and it is unlawful to push it unless one is in +serious need of assistance from the guard. But these bells also rang in +the dining-car, and were supposed to open negotiations for tea or +whatever. A new function has been projected on an ancient custom. No +genius has yet appeared to separate these two meanings. Each bell rings +an alarm and a bid for tea or whatever. It is perfect in theory then +that, if one rings for tea, the guard comes to interrupt the murder, and +that if one is being murdered, the attendant appears with tea. At any +rate, the guard was forever being called from his reports and his +comfortable seat in the forward end of the luggage-van by thrilling +alarms. He often prowled the length of the train with hardihood and +determination, merely to meet a request for a sandwich. + +The train entered Carlisle at the beginning of twilight. This is the +border town, and an engine of the Caledonian Railway, manned by two men +of broad speech, came to take the place of the tandem. The engine of +these men of the North was much smaller than the others, but her cab was +much larger, and would be a fair shelter on a stormy night. They had +also built seats with hooks by which they hang them to the rail, and +thus are still enabled to see through the round windows without +dislocating their necks. All the human parts of the cab were covered +with oilcloth. The wind that swirled from the dim twilight horizon made +the warm glow from the furnace to be a grateful thing. + +As the train shot out of Carlisle, a glance backward could learn of the +faint, yellow blocks of light from the carriages marked on the dimmed +ground. The signals were now lamps, and shone palely against the sky. +The express was entering night as if night were Scotland. + +There was a long toil to the summit of the hills, and then began the +booming ride down the slope. There were many curves. Sometimes could be +seen two or three signal lights at one time, twisting off in some new +direction. Minus the lights and some yards of glistening rails, Scotland +was only a blend of black and weird shapes. Forests which one could +hardly imagine as weltering in the dewy placidity of evening sank to the +rear as if the gods had bade them. The dark loom of a house quickly +dissolved before the eyes. A station with its lamps became a broad +yellow band that, to a deficient sense, was only a few yards in length. +Below, in a deep valley, a silver glare on the waters of a river made +equal time with the train. Signals appeared, grew, and vanished. In the +wind and the mystery of the night, it was like sailing in an enchanted +gloom. The vague profiles of hills ran like snakes across the somber +sky. A strange shape boldly and formidably confronted the train, and +then melted to a long dash of track as clean as sword-blades. + +The vicinity of Glasgow is unmistakable. The flames of pauseless +industries are here and there marked on the distance. Vast factories +stand close to the track, and reaching chimneys emit roseate flames. At +last one may see upon a wall the strong reflection from furnaces, and +against it the impish and inky figures of workingmen. A long, prison- +like row of tenements, not at all resembling London, but in one way +resembling New York, appeared to the left, and then sank out of sight +like a phantom. + +At last the driver stopped the brave effort of his engine The 400 miles +were come to the edge. The average speed of forty-nine and one-third +miles each hour had been made, and it remained only to glide with the +hauteur of a great express through the yard and into the station at +Glasgow. + +A wide and splendid collection of signal lamps flowed toward the engine. +With delicacy and care the train clanked over some switches, passes the +signals, and then there shone a great blaze of arc-lamps, defining the +wide sweep of the station roof. Smoothly, proudly, with all that vast +dignity which had surrounded its exit from London, the express moved +along its platform. It was the entrance into a gorgeous drawing-room of +a man that was sure of everything. + +The porters and the people crowded forward. In their minds there may +have floated dim images of the traditional music-halls, the bobbies, the +'buses, the 'Arrys and 'Arriets, the swells of London. + +THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Men, Women, and Boats, by Stephen Crane + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN, WOMEN, AND BOATS *** + +This file should be named 7mnwm10.txt or 7mnwm10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7mnwm11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7mnwm10a.txt + +Produced by John Bilderback, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Men, Women, and Boats + +Author: Stephen Crane + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7239] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 30, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN, WOMEN, AND BOATS *** + + + + +Produced by John Bilderback, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +MEN, WOMEN, AND BOATS + +By Stephen Crane + +Edited With an Introduction by Vincent Starrett + + + + +NOTE + +A Number of the tales and sketches here brought together appear now for +the first time between covers; others for the first time between covers +in this country. All have been gathered from out-of-print volumes and +old magazine files. + +"The Open Boat," one of Stephen Crane's finest stories, is used with the +courteous permission of Doubleday, Page & Co., holders of the copyright. +Its companion masterpiece, "The Blue Hotel," because of copyright +complications, has had to be omitted, greatly to the regret of the +editor. + +After the death of Stephen Crane, a haphazard and undiscriminating +gathering of his earlier tales and sketches appeared in London under the +misleading title, "Last Words." From this volume, now rarely met with, a +number of characteristic minor works have been selected, and these will +be new to Crane's American admirers; as follows: "The Reluctant +Voyagers," "The End of the Battle," "The Upturned Face," "An Episode of +War," "A Desertion," "Four Men in a Cave," "The Mesmeric Mountain," +"London Impressions," "The Snake." + +Three of our present collection, printed by arrangement, appeared in the +London (1898) edition of "The Open Boat and Other Stories," published by +William Heinemann, but did not occur in the American volume of that +title. They are "An Experiment in Misery," "The Duel that was not +Fought," and "The Pace of Youth." + +For the rest, "A Dark Brown Dog," "A Tent in Agony," and "The Scotch +Express," are here printed for the first time in a book. + +For the general title of the present collection, the editor alone is +responsible. + +V. S. + + + +MEN, WOMEN AND BOATS + +CONTENTS + +STEPHEN CRANE: _An Estimate_ + +THE OPEN BOAT + +THE RELUCTANT VOYAGERS + +THE END OF THE BATTLE + +THE UPTURNED FACE + +AN EPISODE OF WAR + +AN EXPERIMENT IN MISERY + +THE DUEL THAT WAS NOT FOUGHT + +A DESERTION + +THE DARK-BROWN DOG + +THE PACE OF YOUTH + +SULLIVAN COUNTY SKETCHES + + A TENT IN AGONY + + FOUR MEN IN A CAVE + + THE MESMERIC MOUNTAIN + +THE SNAKE + +LONDON IMPRESSIONS + +THE SCOTCH EXPRESS + + + + +STEPHEN CRANE: _AN ESTIMATE_ + + +It hardly profits us to conjecture what Stephen Crane might have written +about the World War had he lived. Certainly, he would have been in it, +in one capacity or another. No man had a greater talent for war and +personal adventure, nor a finer art in describing it. Few writers of +recent times could so well describe the poetry of motion as manifested +in the surge and flow of battle, or so well depict the isolated deed of +heroism in its stark simplicity and terror. + +To such an undertaking as Henri Barbusse's "Under Fire," that powerful, +brutal book, Crane would have brought an analytical genius almost +clairvoyant. He possessed an uncanny vision; a descriptive ability +photographic in its clarity and its care for minutiae--yet +unphotographic in that the big central thing often is omitted, to be +felt rather than seen in the occult suggestion of detail. Crane would +have seen and depicted the grisly horror of it all, as did Barbusse, but +also he would have seen the glory and the ecstasy and the wonder of it, +and over that his poetry would have been spread. + +While Stephen Crane was an excellent psychologist, he was also a true +poet. Frequently his prose was finer poetry than his deliberate essays +in poesy. His most famous book, "The Red Badge of Courage," is +essentially a psychological study, a delicate clinical dissection of the +soul of a recruit, but it is also a _tour de force_ of the +imagination. When he wrote the book he had never seen a battle: he had +to place himself in the situation of another. Years later, when he came +out of the Greco-Turkish _fracas_, he remarked to a friend: "'The +Red Badge' is all right." + +Written by a youth who had scarcely passed his majority, this book has +been compared with Tolstoy's "Sebastopol" and Zola's "La Débâcle," and +with some of the short stories of Ambrose Bierce. The comparison with +Bierce's work is legitimate; with the other books, I think, less so. +Tolstoy and Zola see none of the traditional beauty of battle; they +apply themselves to a devoted--almost obscene--study of corpses and +carnage generally; and they lack the American's instinct for the rowdy +commonplace, the natural, the irreverent, which so materially aids his +realism. In "The Red Badge of Courage" invariably the tone is kept down +where one expects a height: the most heroic deeds are accomplished with +studied awkwardness. + +Crane was an obscure free-lance when he wrote this book. The effort, he +says, somewhere, "was born of pain--despair, almost." It was a better +piece of work, however, for that very reason, as Crane knew. It is far +from flawless. It has been remarked that it bristles with as many +grammatical errors as with bayonets; but it is a big canvas, and I am +certain that many of Crane's deviations from the rules of polite +rhetoric were deliberate experiments, looking to effect--effect which, +frequently, he gained. + +Stephen Crane "arrived" with this book. There are, of course, many who +never have heard of him, to this day, but there was a time when he was +very much talked of. That was in the middle nineties, following +publication of "The Red Badge of Courage," although even before that he +had occasioned a brief flurry with his weird collection of poems called +"The Black Riders and Other Lines." He was highly praised, and highly +abused and laughed at; but he seemed to be "made." We have largely +forgotten since. It is a way we have. + +Personally, I prefer his short stories to his novels and his poems; +those, for instance, contained in "The Open Boat," in "Wounds in the +Rain," and in "The Monster." The title-story in that first collection is +perhaps his finest piece of work. Yet what is it? A truthful record of +an adventure of his own in the filibustering days that preceded our war +with Spain; the faithful narrative of the voyage of an open boat, manned +by a handful of shipwrecked men. But Captain Bligh's account of +_his_ small boat journey, after he had been sent adrift by the +mutineers of the _Bounty_, seems tame in comparison, although of +the two the English sailor's voyage was the more perilous. + +In "The Open Boat" Crane again gains his effects by keeping down the +tone where another writer might have attempted "fine writing" and have +been lost. In it perhaps is most strikingly evident the poetic cadences +of his prose: its rhythmic, monotonous flow is the flow of the gray +water that laps at the sides of the boat, that rises and recedes in +cruel waves, "like little pointed rocks." It is a desolate picture, and +the tale is one of our greatest short stories. In the other tales that +go to make up the volume are wild, exotic glimpses of Latin-America. I +doubt whether the color and spirit of that region have been better +rendered than in Stephen Crane's curious, distorted, staccato sentences. + +"War Stories" is the laconic sub-title of "Wounds in the Rain." It was +not war on a grand scale that Crane saw in the Spanish-American +complication, in which he participated as a war correspondent; no such +war as the recent horror. But the occasions for personal heroism were no +fewer than always, and the opportunities for the exercise of such powers +of trained and appreciative understanding and sympathy as Crane +possessed, were abundant. For the most part, these tales are episodic, +reports of isolated instances--the profanely humorous experiences of +correspondents, the magnificent courage of signalmen under fire, the +forgotten adventure of a converted yacht--but all are instinct with the +red fever of war, and are backgrounded with the choking smoke of battle. +Never again did Crane attempt the large canvas of "The Red Badge of +Courage." Before he had seen war, he imagined its immensity and painted +it with the fury and fidelity of a Verestchagin; when he was its +familiar, he singled out its minor, crimson passages for briefer but no +less careful delineation. + +In this book, again, his sense of the poetry of motion is vividly +evident. We see men going into action, wave on wave, or in scattering +charges; we hear the clink of their accoutrements and their breath +whistling through their teeth. They are not men going into action at +all, but men going about their business, which at the moment happens to +be the capture of a trench. They are neither heroes nor cowards. Their +faces reflect no particular emotion save, perhaps, a desire to get +somewhere. They are a line of men running for a train, or following a +fire engine, or charging a trench. It is a relentless picture, ever +changing, ever the same. But it contains poetry, too, in rich, memorable +passages. + +In "The Monster and Other Stories," there is a tale called "The Blue +Hotel". A Swede, its central figure, toward the end manages to get +himself murdered. Crane's description of it is just as casual as that. +The story fills a dozen pages of the book; but the social injustice of +the whole world is hinted in that space; the upside-downness of +creation, right prostrate, wrong triumphant,--a mad, crazy world. The +incident of the murdered Swede is just part of the backwash of it all, +but it is an illuminating fragment. The Swede was slain, not by the +gambler whose knife pierced his thick hide: he was the victim of a +condition for which he was no more to blame than the man who stabbed +him. Stephen Crane thus speaks through the lips of one of the +characters:-- + + "We are all in it! This poor gambler isn't even + a noun. He is a kind of an adverb. Every sin is + the result of a collaboration. We, five of us, have + collaborated in the murder of this Swede. Usually + there are from a dozen to forty women really involved + in every murder, but in this case it seems + to be only five men--you, I, Johnnie, Old Scully, + and that fool of an unfortunate gambler came + merely as a culmination, the apex of a human movement, + and gets all the punishment." + +And then this typical and arresting piece of irony:-- + + "The corpse of the Swede, alone in the saloon, + had its eyes fixed upon a dreadful legend that + dwelt atop of the cash-machine: 'This registers the + amount of your purchase.'" + +In "The Monster," the ignorance, prejudice and cruelty of an entire +community are sharply focussed. The realism is painful; one blushes for +mankind. But while this story really belongs in the volume called +"Whilomville Stories," it is properly left out of that series. The +Whilomville stories are pure comedy, and "The Monster" is a hideous +tragedy. + +Whilomville is any obscure little village one may happen to think of. To +write of it with such sympathy and understanding, Crane must have done +some remarkable listening in Boyville. The truth is, of course, he was a +boy himself--"a wonderful boy," somebody called him--and was possessed +of the boy mind. These tales are chiefly funny because they are so true +--boy stories written for adults; a child, I suppose, would find them +dull. In none of his tales is his curious understanding of human moods +and emotions better shown. + +A stupid critic once pointed out that Crane, in his search for striking +effects, had been led into "frequent neglect of the time-hallowed rights +of certain words," and that in his pursuit of color he "falls +occasionally into almost ludicrous mishap." The smug pedantry of the +quoted lines is sufficient answer to the charges, but in support of +these assertions the critic quoted certain passages and phrases. He +objected to cheeks "scarred" by tears, to "dauntless" statues, and to +"terror-stricken" wagons. The very touches of poetic impressionism that +largely make for Crane's greatness, are cited to prove him an ignoramus. +There is the finest of poetic imagery in the suggestions subtly conveyed +by Crane's tricky adjectives, the use of which was as deliberate with +him as his choice of a subject. But Crane was an imagist before our +modern imagists were known. + +This unconventional use of adjectives is marked in the Whilomville +tales. In one of them Crane refers to the "solemn odor of burning +turnips." It is the most nearly perfect characterization of burning +turnips conceivable: can anyone improve upon that "solemn odor"? + +Stephen Crane's first venture was "Maggie: A Girl of the Streets." It +was, I believe, the first hint of naturalism in American letters. It was +not a best-seller; it offers no solution of life; it is an episodic bit +of slum fiction, ending with the tragic finality of a Greek drama. It +is a skeleton of a novel rather than a novel, but it is a powerful +outline, written about a life Crane had learned to know as a newspaper +reporter in New York. It is a singularly fine piece of analysis, or a +bit of extraordinarily faithful reporting, as one may prefer; but not a +few French and Russian writers have failed to accomplish in two volumes +what Crane achieved in two hundred pages. In the same category is +"George's Mother," a triumph of inconsequential detail piling up with a +cumulative effect quite overwhelming. + +Crane published two volumes of poetry--"The Black Riders" and "War is +Kind." Their appearance in print was jeeringly hailed; yet Crane was +only pioneering in the free verse that is today, if not definitely +accepted, at least more than tolerated. I like the following love poem +as well as any rhymed and conventionally metrical ballad that I know:-- + + "Should the wide world roll away, + Leaving black terror, + Limitless night, + Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand + Would be to me essential, + If thou and thy white arms were there + And the fall to doom a long way." + +"If war be kind," wrote a clever reviewer, when the second volume +appeared, "then Crane's verse may be poetry, Beardsley's black and white +creations may be art, and this may be called a book";--a smart summing +up that is cherished by cataloguers to this day, in describing the +volume for collectors. Beardsley needs no defenders, and it is fairly +certain that the clever reviewer had not read the book, for certainly +Crane had no illusions about the kindness of war. The title-poem of the +volume is an amazingly beautiful satire which answers all criticism. + + "Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. + Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky + And the affrighted steed ran on alone, + Do not weep. + War is kind. + + "Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, + Little souls who thirst for fight, + These men were born to drill and die. + The unexplained glory flies above them, + Great is the battle-god, and his kingdom-- + A field where a thousand corpses lie. + + * * * * * + + "Mother whose heart hung humble as a button + On the bright splendid shroud of your son, + Do not weep. + War is kind." + +Poor Stephen Crane! Like most geniuses, he had his weaknesses and his +failings; like many, if not most, geniuses, he was ill. He died of +tuberculosis, tragically young. But what a comrade he must have been, +with his extraordinary vision, his keen, sardonic comment, his +fearlessness and his failings! + +Just a glimpse of Crane's last days is afforded by a letter written from +England by Robert Barr, his friend--Robert Barr, who collaborated with +Crane in "The 0' Ruddy," a rollicking tale of old Ireland, or, rather, +who completed it at Crane's death, to satisfy his friend's earnest +request. The letter is dated from Hillhead, Woldingham, Surrey, June 8, +1900, and runs as follows:-- + + "My Dear ---- + + "I was delighted to hear from you, and was much + interested to see the article on Stephen Crane you + sent me. It seems to me the harsh judgment of an + unappreciative, commonplace person on a man of + genius. Stephen had many qualities which lent + themselves to misapprehension, but at the core he + was the finest of men, generous to a fault, with + something of the old-time recklessness which used + to gather in the ancient literary taverns of London. + I always fancied that Edgar Allan Poe revisited the + earth as Stephen Crane, trying again, succeeding + again, failing again, and dying ten years sooner + than he did on the other occasion of his stay on + earth. + + "When your letter came I had just returned from + Dover, where I stayed four days to see Crane off + for the Black Forest. There was a thin thread of + hope that he might recover, but to me he looked like + a man already dead. When he spoke, or, rather, + whispered, there was all the accustomed humor in + his sayings. I said to him that I would go over to + the Schwarzwald in a few weeks, when he was getting + better, and that we would take some convalescent + rambles together. As his wife was listening + he said faintly: 'I'll look forward to that,' but he + smiled at me, and winked slowly, as much as to say: + 'You damned humbug, you know I'll take no more + rambles in this world.' Then, as if the train of + thought suggested what was looked on before as the + crisis of his illness, he murmured: 'Robert, when + you come to the hedge--that we must all go over-- + it isn't bad. You feel sleepy--and--you don't + care. Just a little dreamy curiosity--which world + you're really in--that's all.' + + "To-morrow, Saturday, the 9th, I go again to + Dover to meet his body. He will rest for a little + while in England, a country that was always good + to him, then to America, and his journey will be + ended. + + "I've got the unfinished manuscript of his last + novel here beside me, a rollicking Irish tale, different + from anything he ever wrote before. Stephen + thought I was the only person who could finish it, + and he was too ill for me to refuse. I don't know + what to do about the matter, for I never could work + up another man's ideas. Even your vivid imagination + could hardly conjecture anything more ghastly + than the dying man, lying by an open window overlooking + the English channel, relating in a sepulchral + whisper the comic situations of his humorous hero + so that I might take up the thread of his story. + + "From the window beside which I write this I + can see down in the valley Ravensbrook House, + where Crane used to live and where Harold Frederic, + he and I spent many a merry night together. When + the Romans occupied Britain, some of their legions, + parched with thirst, were wandering about these dry + hills with the chance of finding water or perishing. + They watched the ravens, and so came to the stream + which rises under my place and flows past Stephen's + former home; hence the name, Ravensbrook. + + "It seems a strange coincidence that the greatest + modern writer on war should set himself down + where the greatest ancient warrior, Caesar, probably + stopped to quench his thirst. + + "Stephen died at three in the morning, the same + sinister hour which carried away our friend Frederic + nineteen months before. At midnight, in Crane's + fourteenth-century house in Sussex, we two tried + to lure back the ghost of Frederic into that house of + ghosts, and to our company, thinking that if reappearing + were ever possible so strenuous a man as + Harold would somehow shoulder his way past the + guards, but he made no sign. I wonder if the less + insistent Stephen will suggest some ingenious method + by which the two can pass the barrier. I can imagine + Harold cursing on the other side, and welcoming + the more subtle assistance of his finely fibred + friend. + + "I feel like the last of the Three Musketeers, the + other two gone down in their duel with Death. I + am wondering if, within the next two years, I also + shall get the challenge. If so, I shall go to the competing + ground the more cheerfully that two such + good fellows await the outcome on the other side. + + "Ever your friend, + + "ROBERT BARR." + +The last of the Three Musketeers is gone, now, although he outlived his +friends by some years. Robert Barr died in 1912. Perhaps they are still +debating a joint return. + +There could be, perhaps, no better close for a paper on Stephen Crane +than the subjoined paragraph from a letter written by him to a Rochester +editor:-- + + "The one thing that deeply pleases me is the + fact that men of sense invariably believe me to be + sincere. I know that my work does not amount to + a string of dried beans--I always calmly admit it--but + I also know that I do the best that is in me + without regard to praise or blame. When I was + the mark for every humorist in the country, I went + ahead; and now when I am the mark for only fifty + per cent of the humorists of the country, I go + ahead; for I understand that a man is born into the + world with his own pair of eyes, and he is not at all + responsible for his vision--he is merely responsible + for his quality of personal honesty. To keep + close to this personal honesty is my supreme ambition." + +VINCENT STARRETT. + + + + +THE OPEN BOAT + +A Tale intended to be after the fact. Being the experience of four men +from the sunk steamer "Commodore" + + +I + +None of them knew the color of the sky. Their eyes glanced level, and +were fastened upon the waves that swept toward them. These waves were of +the hue of slate, save for the tops, which were of foaming white, and +all of the men knew the colors of the sea. The horizon narrowed and +widened, and dipped and rose, and at all times its edge was jagged with +waves that seemed thrust up in points like rocks. Many a man ought to +have a bath-tub larger than the boat which here rode upon the sea. These +waves were most wrongfully and barbarously abrupt and tall, and each +froth-top was a problem in small-boat navigation. + +The cook squatted in the bottom and looked with both eyes at the six +inches of gunwale which separated him from the ocean. His sleeves were +rolled over his fat forearms, and the two flaps of his unbuttoned vest +dangled as he bent to bail out the boat. Often he said: "Gawd! That was +a narrow clip." As he remarked it he invariably gazed eastward over the +broken sea. + +The oiler, steering with one of the two oars in the boat, sometimes +raised himself suddenly to keep clear of water that swirled in over the +stern. It was a thin little oar and it seemed often ready to snap. + +The correspondent, pulling at the other oar, watched the waves and +wondered why he was there. + +The injured captain, lying in the bow, was at this time buried in that +profound dejection and indifference which comes, temporarily at least, +to even the bravest and most enduring when, willy nilly, the firm fails, +the army loses, the ship goes down. The mind of the master of a vessel +is rooted deep in the timbers of her, though he commanded for a day or a +decade, and this captain had on him the stern impression of a scene in +the greys of dawn of seven turned faces, and later a stump of a top-mast +with a white ball on it that slashed to and fro at the waves, went low +and lower, and down. Thereafter there was something strange in his +voice. Although steady, it was, deep with mourning, and of a quality +beyond oration or tears. + +"Keep 'er a little more south, Billie," said he. + +"'A little more south,' sir," said the oiler in the stern. + +A seat in this boat was not unlike a seat upon a bucking broncho, and by +the same token, a broncho is not much smaller. The craft pranced and +reared, and plunged like an animal. As each wave came, and she rose for +it, she seemed like a horse making at a fence outrageously high. The +manner of her scramble over these walls of water is a mystic thing, and, +moreover, at the top of them were ordinarily these problems in white +water, the foam racing down from the summit of each wave, requiring a +new leap, and a leap from the air. Then, after scornfully bumping a +crest, she would slide, and race, and splash down a long incline, and +arrive bobbing and nodding in front of the next menace. + +A singular disadvantage of the sea lies in the fact that after +successfully surmounting one wave you discover that there is another +behind it just as important and just as nervously anxious to do +something effective in the way of swamping boats. In a ten-foot dingey +one can get an idea of the resources of the sea in the line of waves +that is not probable to the average experience which is never at sea in +a dingey. As each slatey wall of water approached, it shut all else from +the view of the men in the boat, and it was not difficult to imagine +that this particular wave was the final outburst of the ocean, the last +effort of the grim water. There was a terrible grace in the move of the +waves, and they came in silence, save for the snarling of the crests. + +In the wan light, the faces of the men must have been grey. Their eyes +must have glinted in strange ways as they gazed steadily astern. Viewed +from a balcony, the whole thing would doubtless have been weirdly +picturesque. But the men in the boat had no time to see it, and if they +had had leisure there were other things to occupy their minds. The sun +swung steadily up the sky, and they knew it was broad day because the +color of the sea changed from slate to emerald-green, streaked with +amber lights, and the foam was like tumbling snow. The process of the +breaking day was unknown to them. They were aware only of this effect +upon the color of the waves that rolled toward them. + +In disjointed sentences the cook and the correspondent argued as to the +difference between a life-saving station and a house of refuge. The cook +had said: "There's a house of refuge just north of the Mosquito Inlet +Light, and as soon as they see us, they'll come off in their boat and +pick us up." + +"As soon as who see us?" said the correspondent. + +"The crew," said the cook. + +"Houses of refuge don't have crews," said the correspondent. "As I +understand them, they are only places where clothes and grub are stored +for the benefit of shipwrecked people. They don't carry crews." + +"Oh, yes, they do," said the cook. + +"No, they don't," said the correspondent. + +"Well, we're not there yet, anyhow," said the oiler, in the stern. + +"Well," said the cook, "perhaps it's not a house of refuge that I'm +thinking of as being near Mosquito Inlet Light. Perhaps it's a life- +saving station." + +"We're not there yet," said the oiler, in the stern. + + +II + +As the boat bounced from the top of each wave, the wind tore through the +hair of the hatless men, and as the craft plopped her stern down again +the spray splashed past them. The crest of each of these waves was a +hill, from the top of which the men surveyed, for a moment, a broad +tumultuous expanse, shining and wind-riven. It was probably splendid. It +was probably glorious, this play of the free sea, wild with lights of +emerald and white and amber. + +"Bully good thing it's an on-shore wind," said the cook; "If not, where +would we be? Wouldn't have a show." + +"That's right," said the correspondent. + +The busy oiler nodded his assent. + +Then the captain, in the bow, chuckled in a way that expressed humor, +contempt, tragedy, all in one. "Do you think We've got much of a show +now, boys?" said he. + +Whereupon the three were silent, save for a trifle of hemming and +hawing. To express any particular optimism at this time they felt to be +childish and stupid, but they all doubtless possessed this sense of the +situation in their mind. A young man thinks doggedly at such times. On +the other hand, the ethics of their condition was decidedly against any +open suggestion of hopelessness. So they were silent. + +"Oh, well," said the captain, soothing his children, "We'll get ashore +all right." + +But there was that in his tone which made them think, so the oiler +quoth: "Yes! If this wind holds!" + +The cook was bailing: "Yes! If we don't catch hell in the surf." + +Canton flannel gulls flew near and far. Sometimes they sat down on the +sea, near patches of brown seaweed that rolled on the waves with a +movement like carpets on a line in a gale. The birds sat comfortably in +groups, and they were envied by some in the dingey, for the wrath of the +sea was no more to them than it was to a covey of prairie chickens a +thousand miles inland. Often they came very close and stared at the men +with black bead-like eyes. At these times they were uncanny and sinister +in their unblinking scrutiny, and the men hooted angrily at them, +telling them to be gone. One came, and evidently decided to alight on +the top of the captain's head. The bird flew parallel to the boat and +did not circle, but made short sidelong jumps in the air in chicken- +fashion. His black eyes were wistfully fixed upon the captain's head. +"Ugly brute," said the oiler to the bird. "You look as if you were made +with a jack-knife." The cook and the correspondent swore darkly at the +creature. The captain naturally wished to knock it away with the end of +the heavy painter; but he did not dare do it, because anything +resembling an emphatic gesture would have capsized this freighted boat, +and so with his open hand, the captain gently and carefully waved the +gull away. After it had been discouraged from the pursuit the captain +breathed easier on account of his hair, and others breathed easier +because the bird struck their minds at this time as being somehow +grewsome and ominous. + +In the meantime the oiler and the correspondent rowed And also they +rowed. + +They sat together in the same seat, and each rowed an oar. Then the +oiler took both oars; then the correspondent took both oars; then the +oiler; then the correspondent. They rowed and they rowed. The very +ticklish part of the business was when the time came for the reclining +one in the stern to take his turn at the oars. By the very last star of +truth, it is easier to steal eggs from under a hen than it was to change +seats in the dingey. First the man in the stern slid his hand along the +thwart and moved with care, as if he were of Sèvres. Then the man in the +rowing seat slid his hand along the other thwart. It was all done with +most extraordinary care. As the two sidled past each other, the whole +party kept watchful eyes on the coming wave, and the captain cried: +"Look out now! Steady there!" + +The brown mats of seaweed that appeared from time to time were like +islands, bits of earth. They were traveling, apparently, neither one way +nor the other. They were, to all intents, stationary. They informed the +men in the boat that it was making progress slowly toward the land. + +The captain, rearing cautiously in the bow, after the dingey soared on a +great swell, said that he had seen the light-house at Mosquito Inlet. +Presently the cook remarked that he had seen it. The correspondent was +at the oars then, and for some reason he too wished to look at the +lighthouse, but his back was toward the far shore and the waves were +important, and for some time he could not seize an opportunity to turn +his head. But at last there came a wave more gentle than the others, and +when at the crest of it he swiftly scoured the western horizon. + +"See it?" said the captain. + +"No," said the correspondent slowly, "I didn't see anything." + +"Look again," said the captain. He pointed. "It's exactly in that +direction." + +At the top of another wave, the correspondent did as he was bid, and +this time his eyes chanced on a small still thing on the edge of the +swaying horizon. It was precisely like the point of a pin. It took an +anxious eye to find a light house so tiny. + +"Think we'll make it, captain?" + +"If this wind holds and the boat don't swamp, we can't do much else," +said the captain. + +The little boat, lifted by each towering sea, and splashed viciously by +the crests, made progress that in the absence of seaweed was not +apparent to those in her. She seemed just a wee thing wallowing, +miraculously top-up, at the mercy of five oceans. Occasionally, a great +spread of water, like white flames, swarmed into her. + +"Bail her, cook," said the captain serenely. + +"All right, captain," said the cheerful cook. + + +III + +It would be difficult to describe the subtle brotherhood of men that was +here established on the seas. No one said that it was so. No one +mentioned it. But it dwelt in the boat, and each man felt it warm him. +They were a captain, an oiler, a cook, and a correspondent, and they +were friends, friends in a more curiously iron-bound degree than may be +common. The hurt captain, lying against the water-jar in the bow, spoke +always in a low voice and calmly, but he could never command a more +ready and swiftly obedient crew than the motley three of the dingey. It +was more than a mere recognition of what was best for the common safety. +There was surely in it a quality that was personal and heartfelt. And +after this devotion to the commander of the boat there was this +comradeship that the correspondent, for instance, who had been taught to +be cynical of men, knew even at the time was the best experience of his +life. But no one said that it was so. No one mentioned it. + +"I wish we had a sail," remarked the captain. "We might try my overcoat +on the end of an oar and give you two boys a chance to rest." So the +cook and the correspondent held the mast and spread wide the overcoat. +The oiler steered, and the little boat made good way with her new rig. +Sometimes the oiler had to scull sharply to keep a sea from breaking +into the boat, but otherwise sailing was a success. + +Meanwhile the lighthouse had been growing slowly larger. It had now +almost assumed color, and appeared like a little grey shadow on the sky. +The man at the oars could not be prevented from turning his head rather +often to try for a glimpse of this little grey shadow. + +At last, from the top of each wave the men in the tossing boat could see +land. Even as the lighthouse was an upright shadow on the sky, this land +seemed but a long black shadow on the sea. It certainly was thinner than +paper. "We must be about opposite New Smyrna," said the cook, who had +coasted this shore often in schooners. "Captain, by the way, I believe +they abandoned that life-saving station there about a year ago." + +"Did they?" said the captain. + +The wind slowly died away. The cook and the correspondent were not now +obliged to slave in order to hold high the oar. But the waves continued +their old impetuous swooping at the dingey, and the little craft, no +longer under way, struggled woundily over them. The oiler or the +correspondent took the oars again. + +Shipwrecks are _à propos_ of nothing. If men could only train for +them and have them occur when the men had reached pink condition, there +would be less drowning at sea. Of the four in the dingey none had slept +any time worth mentioning for two days and two nights previous to +embarking in the dingey, and in the excitement of clambering about the +deck of a foundering ship they had also forgotten to eat heartily. + +For these reasons, and for others, neither the oiler nor the +correspondent was fond of rowing at this time. The correspondent +wondered ingenuously how in the name of all that was sane could there be +people who thought it amusing to row a boat. It was not an amusement; it +was a diabolical punishment, and even a genius of mental aberrations +could never conclude that it was anything but a horror to the muscles +and a crime against the back. He mentioned to the boat in general how +the amusement of rowing struck him, and the weary-faced oiler smiled in +full sympathy. Previously to the foundering, by the way, the oiler had +worked double-watch in the engine-room of the ship. + +"Take her easy, now, boys," said the captain. "Don't spend yourselves. +If we have to run a surf you'll need all your strength, because we'll +sure have to swim for it. Take your time." + +Slowly the land arose from the sea. From a black line it became a line +of black and a line of white, trees and sand. Finally, the captain said +that he could make out a house on the shore. "That's the house of +refuge, sure," said the cook. "They'll see us before long, and come out +after us." + +The distant lighthouse reared high. "The keeper ought to be able to make +us out now, if he's looking through a glass," said the captain. "He'll +notify the life-saving people." + +"None of those other boats could have got ashore to give word of the +wreck," said the oiler, in a low voice. "Else the lifeboat would be out +hunting us." + +Slowly and beautifully the land loomed out of the sea. The wind came +again. It had veered from the north-east to the south-east. Finally, a +new sound struck the ears of the men in the boat. It was the low thunder +of the surf on the shore. "We'll never be able to make the lighthouse +now," said the captain. "Swing her head a little more north, Billie," +said he. + +"'A little more north,' sir," said the oiler. + +Whereupon the little boat turned her nose once more down the wind, and +all but the oarsman watched the shore grow. Under the influence of this +expansion doubt and direful apprehension was leaving the minds of the +men. The management of the boat was still most absorbing, but it could +not prevent a quiet cheerfulness. In an hour, perhaps, they would be +ashore. + +Their backbones had become thoroughly used to balancing in the boat, and +they now rode this wild colt of a dingey like circus men. The +correspondent thought that he had been drenched to the skin, but +happening to feel in the top pocket of his coat, he found therein eight +cigars. Four of them were soaked with sea-water; four were perfectly +scathless. After a search, somebody produced three dry matches, and +thereupon the four waifs rode impudently in their little boat, and with +an assurance of an impending rescue shining in their eyes, puffed at the +big cigars and judged well and ill of all men. Everybody took a drink of +water. + + +IV + +"Cook," remarked the captain, "there don't seem to be any signs of life +about your house of refuge." + +"No," replied the cook. "Funny they don't see us!" + +A broad stretch of lowly coast lay before the eyes of the men. It was of +dunes topped with dark vegetation. The roar of the surf was plain, and +sometimes they could see the white lip of a wave as it spun up the +beach. A tiny house was blocked out black upon the sky. Southward, the +slim lighthouse lifted its little grey length. + +Tide, wind, and waves were swinging the dingey northward. "Funny they +don't see us," said the men. + +The surf's roar was here dulled, but its tone was, nevertheless, +thunderous and mighty. As the boat swam over the great rollers, the men +sat listening to this roar. "We'll swamp sure," said everybody. + +It is fair to say here that there was not a life-saving station within +twenty miles in either direction, but the men did not know this fact, +and in consequence they made dark and opprobrious remarks concerning the +eyesight of the nation's life-savers. Four scowling men sat in the +dingey and surpassed records in the invention of epithets. + +"Funny they don't see us." + +The lightheartedness of a former time had completely faded. To their +sharpened minds it was easy to conjure pictures of all kinds of +incompetency and blindness and, indeed, cowardice. There was the shore +of the populous land, and it was bitter and bitter to them that from it +came no sign. + +"Well," said the captain, ultimately, "I suppose we'll have to make a +try for ourselves. If we stay out here too long, we'll none of us have +strength left to swim after the boat swamps." + +And so the oiler, who was at the oars, turned the boat straight for the +shore. There was a sudden tightening of muscle. There was some thinking. + +"If we don't all get ashore--" said the captain. "If we don't all get +ashore, I suppose you fellows know where to send news of my finish?" + +They then briefly exchanged some addresses and admonitions. As for the +reflections of the men, there was a great deal of rage in them. +Perchance they might be formulated thus: "If I am going to be drowned-- +if I am going to be drowned--if I am going to be drowned, why, in the +name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, was I allowed to come thus +far and contemplate sand and trees? Was I brought here merely to have my +nose dragged away as I was about to nibble the sacred cheese of life? It +is preposterous. If this old ninny-woman, Fate, cannot do better than +this, she should be deprived of the management of men's fortunes. She is +an old hen who knows not her intention. If she has decided to drown me, +why did she not do it in the beginning and save me all this trouble? The +whole affair is absurd.... But no, she cannot mean to drown me. She dare +not drown me. She cannot drown me. Not after all this work." Afterward +the man might have had an impulse to shake his fist at the clouds: "Just +you drown me, now, and then hear what I call you!" + +The billows that came at this time were more formidable. They seemed +always just about to break and roll over the little boat in a turmoil of +foam. There was a preparatory and long growl in the speech of them. No +mind unused to the sea would have concluded that the dingey could ascend +these sheer heights in time. The shore was still afar. The oiler was a +wily surfman. "Boys," he said swiftly, "she won't live three minutes +more, and we're too far out to swim. Shall I take her to sea again, +captain?" + +"Yes! Go ahead!" said the captain. + +This oiler, by a series of quick miracles, and fast and steady +oarsmanship, turned the boat in the middle of the surf and took her +safely to sea again. + +There was a considerable silence as the boat bumped over the furrowed +sea to deeper water. Then somebody in gloom spoke. "Well, anyhow, they +must have seen us from the shore by now." + +The gulls went in slanting flight up the wind toward the grey desolate +east. A squall, marked by dingy clouds, and clouds brick-red, like smoke +from a burning building, appeared from the south-east. + +"What do you think of those life-saving people? Ain't they peaches?' + +"Funny they haven't seen us." + +"Maybe they think we're out here for sport! Maybe they think we're +fishin'. Maybe they think we're damned fools." + +It was a long afternoon. A changed tide tried to force them southward, +but the wind and wave said northward. Far ahead, where coast-line, sea, +and sky formed their mighty angle, there were little dots which seemed +to indicate a city on the shore. + +"St. Augustine?" + +The captain shook his head. "Too near Mosquito Inlet." + +And the oiler rowed, and then the correspondent rowed. Then the oiler +rowed. It was a weary business. The human back can become the seat of +more aches and pains than are registered in books for the composite +anatomy of a regiment. It is a limited area, but it can become the +theatre of innumerable muscular conflicts, tangles, wrenches, knots, and +other comforts. + +"Did you ever like to row, Billie?" asked the correspondent. + +"No," said the oiler. "Hang it!" + +When one exchanged the rowing-seat for a place in the bottom of the +boat, he suffered a bodily depression that caused him to be careless of +everything save an obligation to wiggle one finger. There was cold sea- +water swashing to and fro in the boat, and he lay in it. His head, +pillowed on a thwart, was within an inch of the swirl of a wave crest, +and sometimes a particularly obstreperous sea came in-board and drenched +him once more. But these matters did not annoy him. It is almost certain +that if the boat had capsized he would have tumbled comfortably out upon +the ocean as if he felt sure that it was a great soft mattress. + +"Look! There's a man on the shore!" + +"Where?" + +"There! See 'im? See 'im?" + +"Yes, sure! He's walking along." + +"Now he's stopped. Look! He's facing us!" + +"He's waving at us!" + +"So he is! By thunder!" + +"Ah, now we're all right! Now we're all right! There'll be a boat out +here for us in half-an-hour." + +"He's going on. He's running. He's going up to that house there." + +The remote beach seemed lower than the sea, and it required a searching +glance to discern the little black figure. The captain saw a floating +stick and they rowed to it. A bath-towel was by some weird chance in the +boat, and, tying this on the stick, the captain waved it. The oarsman +did not dare turn his head, so he was obliged to ask questions. + +"What's he doing now?" + +"He's standing still again. He's looking, I think.... There he goes +again. Toward the house.... Now he's stopped again." + +"Is he waving at us?" + +"No, not now! he was, though." + +"Look! There comes another man!" + +"He's running." + +"Look at him go, would you." + +"Why, he's on a bicycle. Now he's met the other man. They're both waving +at us. Look!" + +"There comes something up the beach." + +"What the devil is that thing?" + +"Why it looks like a boat." + +"Why, certainly it's a boat." + +"No, it's on wheels." + +"Yes, so it is. Well, that must be the life-boat. They drag them along +shore on a wagon." + +"That's the life-boat, sure." + +"No, by ----, it's--it's an omnibus." + +"I tell you it's a life-boat." + +"It is not! It's an omnibus. I can see it plain. See? One of these big +hotel omnibuses." + +"By thunder, you're right. It's an omnibus, sure as fate. What do you +suppose they are doing with an omnibus? Maybe they are going around +collecting the life-crew, hey?" + +"That's it, likely. Look! There's a fellow waving a little black flag. +He's standing on the steps of the omnibus. There come those other two +fellows. Now they're all talking together. Look at the fellow with the +flag. Maybe he ain't waving it." + +"That ain't a flag, is it? That's his coat. Why, certainly, that's his +coat." + +"So it is. It's his coat. He's taken it off and is waving it around his +head. But would you look at him swing it." + +"Oh, say, there isn't any life-saving station there. That's just a +winter resort hotel omnibus that has brought over some of the boarders +to see us drown." + +"What's that idiot with the coat mean? What's he signaling, anyhow?" + +"It looks as if he were trying to tell us to go north. There must be a +life-saving station up there." + +"No! He thinks we're fishing. Just giving us a merry hand. See? Ah, +there, Willie!" + +"Well, I wish I could make something out of those signals. What do you +suppose he means?" + +"He don't mean anything. He's just playing." + +"Well, if he'd just signal us to try the surf again, or to go to sea and +wait, or go north, or go south, or go to hell--there would be some +reason in it. But look at him. He just stands there and keeps his coat +revolving like a wheel. The ass!" + +"There come more people." + +"Now there's quite a mob. Look! Isn't that a boat?" + +"Where? Oh, I see where you mean. No, that's no boat." + +"That fellow is still waving his coat." + +"He must think we like to see him do that. Why don't he quit it? It +don't mean anything." + +"I don't know. I think he is trying to make us go north. It must be that +there's a life-saving station there somewhere." + +"Say, he ain't tired yet. Look at 'im wave." + +"Wonder how long he can keep that up. He's been revolving his coat ever +since he caught sight of us. He's an idiot. Why aren't they getting men +to bring a boat out? A fishing boat--one of those big yawls--could come +out here all right. Why don't he do something?" + +"Oh, it's all right, now." + +"They'll have a boat out here for us in less than no time, now that +they've seen us." + +A faint yellow tone came into the sky over the low land. The shadows on +the sea slowly deepened. The wind bore coldness with it, and the men +began to shiver. + +"Holy smoke!" said one, allowing his voice to express his impious mood, +"if we keep on monkeying out here! If we've got to flounder out here all +night!" + +"Oh, we'll never have to stay here all night! Don't you worry. They've +seen us now, and it won't be long before they'll come chasing out after +us." + +The shore grew dusky. The man waving a coat blended gradually into this +gloom, and it swallowed in the same manner the omnibus and the group of +people. The spray, when it dashed uproariously over the side, made the +voyagers shrink and swear like men who were being branded. + +"I'd like to catch the chump who waved the coat. I feel like soaking him +one, just for luck." + +"Why? What did he do?" + +"Oh, nothing, but then he seemed so damned cheerful." + +In the meantime the oiler rowed, and then the correspondent rowed, and +then the oiler rowed. Grey-faced and bowed forward, they mechanically, +turn by turn, plied the leaden oars. The form of the lighthouse had +vanished from the southern horizon, but finally a pale star appeared, +just lifting from the sea. The streaked saffron in the west passed +before the all-merging darkness, and the sea to the east was black. The +land had vanished, and was expressed only by the low and drear thunder +of the surf. + +"If I am going to be drowned--if I am going to be drowned--if I am going +to be drowned, why, in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, +was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees? Was I +brought here merely to have my nose dragged away as I was about to +nibble the sacred cheese of life?" + +The patient captain, drooped over the water-jar, was sometimes obliged +to speak to the oarsman. + +"Keep her head up! Keep her head up!" + +"'Keep her head up,' sir." The voices were weary and low. + +This was surely a quiet evening. All save the oarsman lay heavily and +listlessly in the boat's bottom. As for him, his eyes were just capable +of noting the tall black waves that swept forward in a most sinister +silence, save for an occasional subdued growl of a crest. + +The cook's head was on a thwart, and he looked without interest at the +water under his nose. He was deep in other scenes. Finally he spoke. +"Billie," he murmured, dreamfully, "what kind of pie do you like best?" + + +V + +"Pie," said the oiler and the correspondent, agitatedly. "Don't talk +about those things, blast you!" + +"Well," said the cook, "I was just thinking about ham sandwiches, and--" + +A night on the sea in an open boat is a long night. As darkness settled +finally, the shine of the light, lifting from the sea in the south, +changed to full gold. On the northern horizon a new light appeared, a +small bluish gleam on the edge of the waters. These two lights were the +furniture of the world. Otherwise there was nothing but waves. + +Two men huddled in the stern, and distances were so magnificent in the +dingey that the rower was enabled to keep his feet partly warmed by +thrusting them under his companions. Their legs indeed extended far +under the rowing-seat until they touched the feet of the captain +forward. Sometimes, despite the efforts of the tired oarsman, a wave +came piling into the boat, an icy wave of the night, and the chilling +water soaked them anew. They would twist their bodies for a moment and +groan, and sleep the dead sleep once more, while the water in the boat +gurgled about them as the craft rocked. + +The plan of the oiler and the correspondent was for one to row until he +lost the ability, and then arouse the other from his sea-water couch in +the bottom of the boat. + +The oiler plied the oars until his head drooped forward, and the +overpowering sleep blinded him. And he rowed yet afterward. Then he +touched a man in the bottom of the boat, and called his name. "Will you +spell me for a little while?" he said, meekly. + +"Sure, Billie," said the correspondent, awakening and dragging himself +to a sitting position. They exchanged places carefully, and the oiler, +cuddling down in the sea-water at the cook's side, seemed to go to sleep +instantly. + +The particular violence of the sea had ceased. The waves came without +snarling. The obligation of the man at the oars was to keep the boat +headed so that the tilt of the rollers would not capsize her, and to +preserve her from filling when the crests rushed past. The black waves +were silent and hard to be seen in the darkness. Often one was almost +upon the boat before the oarsman was aware. + +In a low voice the correspondent addressed the captain. He was not sure +that the captain was awake, although this iron man seemed to be always +awake. "Captain, shall I keep her making for that light north, sir?" + +The same steady voice answered him. "Yes. Keep it about two points off +the port bow." + +The cook had tied a life-belt around himself in order to get even the +warmth which this clumsy cork contrivance could donate, and he seemed +almost stove-like when a rower, whose teeth invariably chattered wildly +as soon as he ceased his labor, dropped down to sleep. + +The correspondent, as he rowed, looked down at the two men sleeping +under-foot. The cook's arm was around the oiler's shoulders, and, with +their fragmentary clothing and haggard faces, they were the babes of the +sea, a grotesque rendering of the old babes in the wood. + +Later he must have grown stupid at his work, for suddenly there was a +growling of water, and a crest came with a roar and a swash into the +boat, and it was a wonder that it did not set the cook afloat in his +life-belt. The cook continued to sleep, but the oiler sat up, blinking +his eyes and shaking with the new cold. + +"Oh, I'm awful sorry, Billie," said the correspondent contritely. + +"That's all right, old boy," said the oiler, and lay down again and was +asleep. + +Presently it seemed that even the captain dozed, and the correspondent +thought that he was the one man afloat on all the oceans. The wind had a +voice as it came over the waves, and it was sadder than the end. + +There was a long, loud swishing astern of the boat, and a gleaming trail +of phosphorescence, like blue flame, was furrowed on the black waters. +It might have been made by a monstrous knife. + +Then there came a stillness, while the correspondent breathed with the +open mouth and looked at the sea. + +Suddenly there was another swish and another long flash of bluish light, +and this time it was alongside the boat, and might almost have been +reached with an oar. The correspondent saw an enormous fin speed like a +shadow through the water, hurling the crystalline spray and leaving the +long glowing trail. + +The correspondent looked over his shoulder at the captain. His face was +hidden, and he seemed to be asleep. He looked at the babes of the sea. +They certainly were asleep. So, being bereft of sympathy, he leaned a +little way to one side and swore softly into the sea. + +But the thing did not then leave the vicinity of the boat. Ahead or +astern, on one side or the other, at intervals long or short, fled the +long sparkling streak, and there was to be heard the whirroo of the dark +fin. The speed and power of the thing was greatly to be admired. It cut +the water like a gigantic and keen projectile. + +The presence of this biding thing did not affect the man with the same +horror that it would if he had been a picnicker. He simply looked at the +sea dully and swore in an undertone. + +Nevertheless, it is true that he did not wish to be alone. He wished one +of his companions to awaken by chance and keep him company with it. But +the captain hung motionless over the water-jar, and the oiler and the +cook in the bottom of the boat were plunged in slumber. + + +VI + +"If I am going to be drowned--if I am going to be drowned--if I am going +to be drowned, why, in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, +was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees?" + +During this dismal night, it may be remarked that a man would conclude +that it was really the intention of the seven mad gods to drown him, +despite the abominable injustice of it. For it was certainly an +abominable injustice to drown a man who had worked so hard, so hard. The +man felt it would be a crime most unnatural. Other people had drowned at +sea since galleys swarmed with painted sails, but still-- + +When it occurs to a man that nature does not regard him as important, +and that she feels she would not maim the universe by disposing of him, +he at first wishes to throw bricks at the temple, and he hates deeply +the fact that there are no brick and no temples. Any visible expression +of nature would surely be pelleted with his jeers. + +Then, if there be no tangible thing to hoot he feels, perhaps, the +desire to confront a personification and indulge in pleas, bowed to one +knee, and with hands supplicant, saying: "Yes, but I love myself." + +A high cold star on a winter's night is the word he feels that she says +to him. Thereafter he knows the pathos of his situation. + +The men in the dingey had not discussed these matters, but each had, no +doubt, reflected upon them in silence and according to his mind. There +was seldom any expression upon their faces save the general one of +complete weariness. Speech was devoted to the business of the boat. + +To chime the notes of his emotion, a verse mysteriously entered the +correspondent's head. He had even forgotten that he had forgotten this +verse, but it suddenly was in his mind. + + "A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, + There was a lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of + woman's tears; + But a comrade stood beside him, and he took that comrade's hand, + And he said: 'I shall never see my own, my native land.'" + +In his childhood, the correspondent had been made acquainted with the +fact that a soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, but he had never +regarded the fact as important. Myriads of his school-fellows had +informed him of the soldier's plight, but the dinning had naturally +ended by making him perfectly indifferent. He had never considered it +his affair that a soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, nor had it +appeared to him as a matter for sorrow. It was less to him than the +breaking of a pencil's point. + +Now, however, it quaintly came to him as a human, living thing. It was +no longer merely a picture of a few throes in the breast of a poet, +meanwhile drinking tea and warming his feet at the grate; it was an +actuality--stern, mournful, and fine. + +The correspondent plainly saw the soldier. He lay on the sand with his +feet out straight and still. While his pale left hand was upon his chest +in an attempt to thwart the going of his life, the blood came between +his fingers. In the far Algerian distance, a city of low square forms +was set against a sky that was faint with the last sunset hues. The +correspondent, plying the oars and dreaming of the slow and slower +movements of the lips of the soldier, was moved by a profound and +perfectly impersonal comprehension. He was sorry for the soldier of the +Legion who lay dying in Algiers. + +The thing which had followed the boat and waited, had evidently grown +bored at the delay. There was no longer to be heard the slash of the +cut-water, and there was no longer the flame of the long trail. The +light in the north still glimmered, but it was apparently no nearer to +the boat. Sometimes the boom of the surf rang in the correspondent's +ears, and he turned the craft seaward then and rowed harder. Southward, +some one had evidently built a watch-fire on the beach. It was too low +and too far to be seen, but it made a shimmering, roseate reflection +upon the bluff back of it, and this could be discerned from the boat. +The wind came stronger, and sometimes a wave suddenly raged out like a +mountain-cat, and there was to be seen the sheen and sparkle of a broken +crest. + +The captain, in the bow, moved on his water-jar and sat erect. "Pretty +long night," he observed to the correspondent. He looked at the shore. +"Those life-saving people take their time." + +"Did you see that shark playing around?" + +"Yes, I saw him. He was a big fellow, all right." + +"Wish I had known you were awake." + +Later the correspondent spoke into the bottom of the boat. + +"Billie!" There was a slow and gradual disentanglement. "Billie, will +you spell me?" + +"Sure," said the oiler. + +As soon as the correspondent touched the cold comfortable sea-water in +the bottom of the boat, and had huddled close to the cook's life-belt he +was deep in sleep, despite the fact that his teeth played all the +popular airs. This sleep was so good to him that it was but a moment +before he heard a voice call his name in a tone that demonstrated the +last stages of exhaustion. "Will you spell me?" + +"Sure, Billie." + +The light in the north had mysteriously vanished, but the correspondent +took his course from the wide-awake captain. + +Later in the night they took the boat farther out to sea, and the +captain directed the cook to take one oar at the stern and keep the boat +facing the seas. He was to call out if he should hear the thunder of the +surf. This plan enabled the oiler and the correspondent to get respite +together. "We'll give those boys a chance to get into shape again," said +the captain. They curled down and, after a few preliminary chatterings +and trembles, slept once more the dead sleep. Neither knew they had +bequeathed to the cook the company of another shark, or perhaps the same +shark. + +As the boat caroused on the waves, spray occasionally bumped over the +side and gave them a fresh soaking, but this had no power to break their +repose. The ominous slash of the wind and the water affected them as it +would have affected mummies. + +"Boys," said the cook, with the notes of every reluctance in his voice, +"she's drifted in pretty close. I guess one of you had better take her +to sea again." The correspondent, aroused, heard the crash of the +toppled crests. + +As he was rowing, the captain gave him some whisky-and-water, and this +steadied the chills out of him. "If I ever get ashore and anybody shows +me even a photograph of an oar--" + +At last there was a short conversation. + +"Billie.... Billie, will you spell me?" + +"Sure," said the oiler. + + +VII + +When the correspondent again opened his eyes, the sea and the sky were +each of the grey hue of the dawning. Later, carmine and gold was painted +upon the waters. The morning appeared finally, in its splendor, with a +sky of pure blue, and the sunlight flamed on the tips of the waves. + +On the distant dunes were set many little black cottages, and a tall +white windmill reared above them. No man, nor dog, nor bicycle appeared +on the beach. The cottages might have formed a deserted village. + +The voyagers scanned the shore. A conference was held in the boat. +"Well," said the captain, "if no help is coming we might better try a +run through the surf right away. If we stay out here much longer we will +be too weak to do anything for ourselves at all." The others silently +acquiesced in this reasoning. The boat was headed for the beach. The +correspondent wondered if none ever ascended the tall wind-tower, and if +then they never looked seaward. This tower was a giant, standing with +its back to the plight of the ants. It represented in a degree, to the +correspondent, the serenity of nature amid the struggles of the +individual--nature in the wind, and nature in the vision of men. She did +not seem cruel to him then, nor beneficent, nor treacherous, nor wise. +But she was indifferent, flatly indifferent. It is, perhaps, plausible +that a man in this situation, impressed with the unconcern of the +universe, should see the innumerable flaws of his life, and have them +taste wickedly in his mind and wish for another chance. A distinction +between right and wrong seems absurdly clear to him, then, in this new +ignorance of the grave-edge, and he understands that if he were given +another opportunity he would mend his conduct and his words, and be +better and brighter during an introduction or at a tea. + +"Now, boys," said the captain, "she is going to swamp, sure. All we can +do is to work her in as far as possible, and then when she swamps, pile +out and scramble for the beach. Keep cool now, and don't jump until she +swamps sure." + +The oiler took the oars. Over his shoulders he scanned the surf. +"Captain," he said, "I think I'd better bring her about, and keep her +head-on to the seas and back her in." + +"All right, Billie," said the captain. "Back her in." The oiler swung +the boat then and, seated in the stern, the cook and the correspondent +were obliged to look over their shoulders to contemplate the lonely and +indifferent shore. + +The monstrous in-shore rollers heaved the boat high until the men were +again enabled to see the white sheets of water scudding up the slanted +beach. "We won't get in very close," said the captain. Each time a man +could wrest his attention from the rollers, he turned his glance toward +the shore, and in the expression of the eyes during this contemplation +there was a singular quality. The correspondent, observing the others, +knew that they were not afraid, but the full meaning of their glances +was shrouded. + +As for himself, he was too tired to grapple fundamentally with the fact. +He tried to coerce his mind into thinking of it, but the mind was +dominated at this time by the muscles, and the muscles said they did not +care. It merely occurred to him that if he should drown it would be a +shame. + +There were no hurried words, no pallor, no plain agitation. The men +simply looked at the shore. "Now, remember to get well clear of the boat +when you jump," said the captain. + +Seaward the crest of a roller suddenly fell with a thunderous crash, and +the long white comber came roaring down upon the boat. + +"Steady now," said the captain. The men were silent. They turned their +eyes from the shore to the comber and waited. The boat slid up the +incline, leaped at the furious top, bounced over it, and swung down the +long back of the wave. Some water had been shipped and the cook bailed +it out. + +But the next crest crashed also. The tumbling, boiling flood of white +water caught the boat and whirled it almost perpendicular. Water swarmed +in from all sides. The correspondent had his hands on the gunwale at +this time, and when the water entered at that place he swiftly withdrew +his fingers, as if he objected to wetting them. + +The little boat, drunken with this weight of water, reeled and snuggled +deeper into the sea. + +"Bail her out, cook! Bail her out," said the captain. + +"All right, captain," said the cook. + +"Now, boys, the next one will do for us, sure," said the oiler. "Mind to +jump clear of the boat." + +The third wave moved forward, huge, furious, implacable. It fairly +swallowed the dingey, and almost simultaneously the men tumbled into the +sea. A piece of lifebelt had lain in the bottom of the boat, and as the +correspondent went overboard he held this to his chest with his left +hand. + +The January water was icy, and he reflected immediately that it was +colder than he had expected to find it on the coast of Florida. This +appeared to his dazed mind as a fact important enough to be noted at the +time. The coldness of the water was sad; it was tragic. This fact was +somehow so mixed and confused with his opinion of his own situation that +it seemed almost a proper reason for tears. The water was cold. + +When he came to the surface he was conscious of little but the noisy +water. Afterward he saw his companions in the sea. The oiler was ahead +in the race. He was swimming strongly and rapidly. Off to the +correspondent's left, the cook's great white and corked back bulged out +of the water, and in the rear the captain was hanging with his one good +hand to the keel of the overturned dingey. + +There is a certain immovable quality to a shore, and the correspondent +wondered at it amid the confusion of the sea. + +It seemed also very attractive, but the correspondent knew that it was a +long journey, and he paddled leisurely. The piece of life-preserver lay +under him, and sometimes he whirled down the incline of a wave as if he +were on a handsled. + +But finally he arrived at a place in the sea where travel was beset +with difficulty. He did not pause swimming to inquire what manner of +current had caught him, but there his progress ceased. The shore was set +before him like a bit of scenery on a stage, and he looked at it and +understood with his eyes each detail of it. + +As the cook passed, much farther to the left, the captain was calling to +him, "Turn over on your back, cook! Turn over on your back and use the +oar." + +"All right, sir." The cook turned on his back, and, paddling with an +oar, went ahead as if he were a canoe. + +Presently the boat also passed to the left of the correspondent with the +captain clinging with one hand to the keel. He would have appeared like +a man raising himself to look over a board fence, if it were not for the +extraordinary gymnastics of the boat. The correspondent marvelled that +the captain could still hold to it. + +They passed on, nearer to shore--the oiler, the cook, the captain--and +following them went the water-jar, bouncing gaily over the seas. + +The correspondent remained in the grip of this strange new enemy--a +current. The shore, with its white slope of sand and its green bluff, +topped with little silent cottages, was spread like a picture before +him. It was very near to him then, but he was impressed as one who in a +gallery looks at a scene from Brittany or Holland. + +He thought: "I am going to drown? Can it be possible Can it be possible? +Can it be possible?" Perhaps an individual must consider his own death +to be the final phenomenon of nature. + +But later a wave perhaps whirled him out of this small, deadly current, +for he found suddenly that he could again make progress toward the +shore. Later still, he was aware that the captain, clinging with one +hand to the keel of the dingey, had his face turned away from the shore +and toward him, and was calling his name. "Come to the boat! Come to the +boat!" + +In his struggle to reach the captain and the boat, he reflected that +when one gets properly wearied, drowning must really be a comfortable +arrangement, a cessation of hostilities accompanied by a large degree of +relief, and he was glad of it, for the main thing in his mind for some +months had been horror of the temporary agony. He did not wish to be +hurt. + +Presently he saw a man running along the shore. He was undressing with +most remarkable speed. Coat, trousers, shirt, everything flew magically +off him. + +"Come to the boat," called the captain. + +"All right, captain." As the correspondent paddled, he saw the captain +let himself down to bottom and leave the boat. Then the correspondent +performed his one little marvel of the voyage. A large wave caught him +and flung him with ease and supreme speed completely over the boat and +far beyond it. It struck him even then as an event in gymnastics, and a +true miracle of the sea. An over-turned boat in the surf is not a +plaything to a swimming man. + +The correspondent arrived in water that reached only to his waist, but +his condition did not enable him to stand for more than a moment. Each +wave knocked him into a heap, and the under-tow pulled at him. + +Then he saw the man who had been running and undressing, and undressing +and running, come bounding into the water. He dragged ashore the cook, +and then waded towards the captain, but the captain waved him away, and +sent him to the correspondent. He was naked, naked as a tree in winter, +but a halo was about his head, and he shone like a saint. He gave a +strong pull, and a long drag, and a bully heave at the correspondent's +hand. The correspondent, schooled in the minor formulae, said: "Thanks, +old man." But suddenly the man cried: "What's that?" He pointed a swift +finger. The correspondent said: "Go." + +In the shallows, face downward, lay the oiler. His forehead touched sand +that was periodically, between each wave, clear of the sea. + +The correspondent did not know all that transpired afterward. When he +achieved safe ground he fell, striking the sand with each particular +part of his body. It was as if he had dropped from a roof, but the thud +was grateful to him. + +It seems that instantly the beach was populated with men with blankets, +clothes, and flasks, and women with coffeepots and all the remedies +sacred to their minds. The welcome of the land to the men from the sea +was warm and generous, but a still and dripping shape was carried slowly +up the beach, and the land's welcome for it could only be the different +and sinister hospitality of the grave. + +When it came night, the white waves paced to and fro in the moonlight, +and the wind brought the sound of the great sea's voice to the men on +shore, and they felt that they could then be interpreters. + + + + +THE RELUCTANT VOYAGERS + + +CHAPTER I + +Two men sat by the sea waves. + +"Well, I know I'm not handsome," said one gloomily. He was poking holes +in the sand with a discontented cane. + +The companion was watching the waves play. He seemed overcome with +perspiring discomfort as a man who is resolved to set another man right. + +Suddenly his mouth turned into a straight line. + +"To be sure you are not," he cried vehemently. + +"You look like thunder. I do not desire to be unpleasant, but I must +assure you that your freckled skin continually reminds spectators of +white wall paper with gilt roses on it. The top of your head looks like +a little wooden plate. And your figure--heavens!" + +For a time they were silent. They stared at the waves that purred near +their feet like sleepy sea-kittens. + +Finally the first man spoke. + +"Well," said he, defiantly, "what of it?" + +"What of it?" exploded the other. "Why, it means that you'd look like +blazes in a bathing-suit." + +They were again silent. The freckled man seemed ashamed. His tall +companion glowered at the scenery. + +"I am decided," said the freckled man suddenly. He got boldly up from the +sand and strode away. The tall man followed, walking sarcastically and +glaring down at the round, resolute figure before him. + +A bath-clerk was looking at the world with superior eyes through a hole +in a board. To him the freckled man made application, waving his hands +over his person in illustration of a snug fit. The bath-clerk thought +profoundly. Eventually, he handed out a blue bundle with an air of +having phenomenally solved the freckled man's dimensions. + +The latter resumed his resolute stride. + +"See here," said the tall man, following him, "I bet you've got a +regular toga, you know. That fellow couldn't tell--" + +"Yes, he could," interrupted the freckled man, "I saw correct +mathematics in his eyes." + +"Well, supposin' he has missed your size. Supposin'--" + +"Tom," again interrupted the other, "produce your proud clothes and +we'll go in." + +The tall man swore bitterly. He went to one of a row of little wooden +boxes and shut himself in it. His companion repaired to a similar box. + +At first he felt like an opulent monk in a too-small cell, and he turned +round two or three times to see if he could. He arrived finally into his +bathing-dress. Immediately he dropped gasping upon a three-cornered +bench. The suit fell in folds about his reclining form. There was +silence, save for the caressing calls of the waves without. + +Then he heard two shoes drop on the floor in one of the little coops. He +began to clamor at the boards like a penitent at an unforgiving door. + +"Tom," called he, "Tom--" + +A voice of wrath, muffled by cloth, came through the walls. "You go t' +blazes!" + +The freckled man began to groan, taking the occupants of the entire row +of coops into his confidence. + +"Stop your noise," angrily cried the tall man from his hidden den. "You +rented the bathing-suit, didn't you? Then--" + +"It ain't a bathing-suit," shouted the freckled man at the boards. "It's +an auditorium, a ballroom, or something. It isn't a bathing-suit." + +The tall man came out of his box. His suit looked like blue skin. He +walked with grandeur down the alley between the rows of coops. Stopping +in front of his friend's door, he rapped on it with passionate knuckles. + +"Come out of there, y' ol' fool," said he, in an enraged whisper. "It's +only your accursed vanity. Wear it anyhow. What difference does it make? +I never saw such a vain ol' idiot!" + +As he was storming the door opened, and his friend confronted him. The +tall man's legs gave way, and he fell against the opposite door. + +The freckled man regarded him sternly. + +"You're an ass," he said. + +His back curved in scorn. He walked majestically down the alley. There +was pride in the way his chubby feet patted the boards. The tall man +followed, weakly, his eyes riveted upon the figure ahead. + +As a disguise the freckled man had adopted the stomach of importance. He +moved with an air of some sort of procession, across a board walk, down +some steps, and out upon the sand. + +There was a pug dog and three old women on a bench, a man and a maid +with a book and a parasol, a seagull drifting high in the wind, and a +distant, tremendous meeting of sea and sky. Down on the wet sand stood a +girl being wooed by the breakers. + +The freckled man moved with stately tread along the beach. The tall man, +numb with amazement, came in the rear. They neared the girl. + +Suddenly the tall man was seized with convulsions. He laughed, and the +girl turned her head. + +She perceived the freckled man in the bathing-suit. An expression of +wonderment overspread her charming face. It changed in a moment to a +pearly smile. + +This smile seemed to smite the freckled man. He obviously tried to swell +and fit his suit. Then he turned a shrivelling glance upon his +companion, and fled up the beach. The tall man ran after him, pursuing +with mocking cries that tingled his flesh like stings of insects. He +seemed to be trying to lead the way out of the world. But at last he +stopped and faced about. + +"Tom Sharp," said he, between his clenched teeth, "you are an +unutterable wretch! I could grind your bones under my heel." + +The tall man was in a trance, with glazed eyes fixed on the bathing- +dress. He seemed to be murmuring: "Oh, good Lord! Oh, good Lord! I never +saw such a suit!" + +The freckled man made the gesture of an assassin. + +"Tom Sharp, you--" + +The other was still murmuring: "Oh, good Lord! I never saw such a suit! +I never--" + +The freckled man ran down into the sea. + + +CHAPTER II + +The cool, swirling waters took his temper from him, and it became a +thing that is lost in the ocean. The tall man floundered in, and the two +forgot and rollicked in the waves. + +The freckled man, in endeavoring to escape from mankind, had left all +save a solitary fisherman under a large hat, and three boys in bathing- +dress, laughing and splashing upon a raft made of old spars. + +The two men swam softly over the ground swells. + +The three boys dived from their raft, and turned their jolly faces +shorewards. It twisted slowly around and around, and began to move +seaward on some unknown voyage. The freckled man laid his face to the +water and swam toward the raft with a practised stroke. The tall man +followed, his bended arm appearing and disappearing with the precision +of machinery. + +The craft crept away, slowly and wearily, as if luring. The little +wooden plate on the freckled man's head looked at the shore like a +round, brown eye, but his gaze was fixed on the raft that slyly appeared +to be waiting. The tall man used the little wooden plate as a beacon. + +At length the freckled man reached the raft and climbed aboard. He lay +down on his back and puffed. His bathing-dress spread about him like a +dead balloon. The tall man came, snorted, shook his tangled locks and +lay down by the side of his companion. + +They were overcome with a delicious drowsiness. The planks of the raft +seemed to fit their tired limbs. They gazed dreamily up into the vast +sky of summer. + +"This is great," said the tall man. His companion grunted blissfully. + +Gentle hands from the sea rocked their craft and lulled them to peace. +Lapping waves sang little rippling sea-songs about them. The two men +issued contented groans. + +"Tom," said the freckled man. + +"What?" said the other. + +"This is great." + +They lay and thought. + +A fish-hawk, soaring, suddenly, turned and darted at the waves. The tall +man indolently twisted his head and watched the bird plunge its claws +into the water. It heavily arose with a silver gleaming fish. + +"That bird has got his feet wet again. It's a shame," murmured the tall +man sleepily. "He must suffer from an endless cold in the head. He +should wear rubber boots. They'd look great, too. If I was him, I'd-- +Great Scott!" + +He had partly arisen, and was looking at the shore. + +He began to scream. "Ted! Ted! Ted! Look!" + +"What's matter?" dreamily spoke the freckled man. "You remind me of when +I put the bird-shot in your leg." He giggled softly. + +The agitated tall man made a gesture of supreme eloquence. His companion +up-reared and turned a startled gaze shoreward. + +"Lord!" he roared, as if stabbed. + +The land was a long, brown streak with a rim of green, in which sparkled +the tin roofs of huge hotels. The hands from the sea had pushed them +away. The two men sprang erect, and did a little dance of perturbation. + +"What shall we do? What shall we do?" moaned the freckled man, wriggling +fantastically in his dead balloon. + +The changing shore seemed to fascinate the tall man, and for a time he +did not speak. + +Suddenly he concluded his minuet of horror. He wheeled about and faced +the freckled man. He elaborately folded his arms. + +"So," he said, in slow, formidable tones. "So! This all comes from your +accursed vanity, your bathing-suit, your idiocy; you have murdered your +best friend." + +He turned away. His companion reeled as if stricken by an unexpected +arm. + +He stretched out his hands. "Tom, Tom," wailed he, beseechingly, "don't +be such a fool." + +The broad back of his friend was occupied by a contemptuous sneer. + +Three ships fell off the horizon. Landward, the hues were blending. The +whistle of a locomotive sounded from an infinite distance as if tooting +in heaven. + +"Tom! Tom! My dear boy," quavered the freckled man, "don't speak that +way to me." + +"Oh, no, of course not," said the other, still facing away and throwing +the words over his shoulder. "You suppose I am going to accept all this +calmly, don't you? Not make the slightest objection? Make no protest at +all, hey?" + +"Well, I--I----" began the freckled man. + +The tall man's wrath suddenly exploded. "You've abducted me! That's the +whole amount of it! You've abducted me!" + +"I ain't," protested the freckled man. "You must think I'm a fool." + +The tall man swore, and sitting down, dangled his legs angrily in the +water. Natural law compelled his companion to occupy the other end of +the raft. + +Over the waters little shoals of fish spluttered, raising tiny tempests. +Languid jelly-fish floated near, tremulously waving a thousand legs. A +row of porpoises trundled along like a procession of cog-wheels. The sky +became greyed save where over the land sunset colors were assembling. + +The two voyagers, back to back and at either end of the raft, quarrelled +at length. + +"What did you want to follow me for?" demanded the freckled man in a +voice of indignation. + +"If your figure hadn't been so like a bottle, we wouldn't be here," +replied the tall man. + + +CHAPTER III + +The fires in the west blazed away, and solemnity spread over the sea. +Electric lights began to blink like eyes. Night menaced the voyagers +with a dangerous darkness, and fear came to bind their souls together. +They huddled fraternally in the middle of the raft. + +"I feel like a molecule," said the freckled man in subdued tones. + +"I'd give two dollars for a cigar," muttered the tall man. + +A V-shaped flock of ducks flew towards Barnegat, between the voyagers +and a remnant of yellow sky. Shadows and winds came from the vanished +eastern horizon. + +"I think I hear voices," said the freckled man. + +"That Dollie Ramsdell was an awfully nice girl," said the tall man. + +When the coldness of the sea night came to them, the freckled man found +he could by a peculiar movement of his legs and arms encase himself in +his bathing-dress. The tall man was compelled to whistle and shiver. As +night settled finally over the sea, red and green lights began to dot +the blackness. There were mysterious shadows between the waves. + +"I see things comin'," murmured the freckled man. + +"I wish I hadn't ordered that new dress-suit for the hop to-morrow +night," said the tall man reflectively. + +The sea became uneasy and heaved painfully, like a lost bosom, when +little forgotten heart-bells try to chime with a pure sound. The +voyagers cringed at magnified foam on distant wave crests. A moon came +and looked at them. + +"Somebody's here," whispered the freckled man. + +"I wish I had an almanac," remarked the tall man, regarding the moon. + +Presently they fell to staring at the red and green lights that twinkled +about them. + +"Providence will not leave us," asserted the freckled man. + +"Oh, we'll be picked up shortly. I owe money," said the tall man. + +He began to thrum on an imaginary banjo. + +"I have heard," said he, suddenly, "that captains with healthy ships +beneath their feet will never turn back after having once started on a +voyage. In that case we will be rescued by some ship bound for the +golden seas of the south. Then, you'll be up to some of your confounded +devilment and we'll get put off. They'll maroon us! That's what they'll +do! They'll maroon us! On an island with palm trees and sun-kissed +maidens and all that. Sun-kissed maidens, eh? Great! They'd--" + +He suddenly ceased and turned to stone. At a distance a great, green eye +was contemplating the sea wanderers. + +They stood up and did another dance. As they watched the eye grew +larger. + +Directly the form of a phantom-like ship came into view. About the +great, green eye there bobbed small yellow dots. The wanderers could +hear a far-away creaking of unseen tackle and flapping of shadowy sails. +There came the melody of the waters as the ship's prow thrust its way. + +The tall man delivered an oration. + +"Ha!" he exclaimed, "here come our rescuers. The brave fellows! How I +long to take the manly captain by the hand! You will soon see a white +boat with a star on its bow drop from the side of yon ship. Kind sailors +in blue and white will help us into the boat and conduct our wasted +frames to the quarter-deck, where the handsome, bearded captain, with +gold bands all around, will welcome us. Then in the hard-oak cabin, +while the wine gurgles and the Havanas glow, we'll tell our tale of +peril and privation." + +The ship came on like a black hurrying animal with froth-filled maw. The +two wanderers stood up and clasped hands. Then they howled out a wild +duet that rang over the wastes of sea. + +The cries seemed to strike the ship. + +Men with boots on yelled and ran about the deck. They picked up heavy +articles and threw them down. They yelled more. After hideous creakings +and flappings, the vessel stood still. + +In the meantime the wanderers had been chanting their song for help. Out +in the blackness they beckoned to the ship and coaxed. + +A voice came to them. + +"Hello," it said. + +They puffed out their cheeks and began to shout. "Hello! Hello! Hello!" + +"Wot do yeh want?" said the voice. + +The two wanderers gazed at each other, and sat suddenly down on the +raft. Some pall came sweeping over the sky and quenched their stars. + +But almost the tall man got up and brawled miscellaneous information. He +stamped his foot, and frowning into the night, swore threateningly. + +The vessel seemed fearful of these moaning voices that called from a +hidden cavern of the water. And now one voice was filled with a menace. +A number of men with enormous limbs that threw vast shadows over the sea +as the lanterns flickered, held a debate and made gestures. + +Off in the darkness, the tall man began to clamor like a mob. The +freckled man sat in astounded silence, with his legs weak. + +After a time one of the men of enormous limbs seized a rope that was +tugging at the stem and drew a small boat from the shadows. Three giants +clambered in and rowed cautiously toward the raft. Silver water flashed +in the gloom as the oars dipped. + +About fifty feet from the raft the boat stopped. "Who er you?" asked a +voice. + +The tall man braced himself and explained. He drew vivid pictures, his +twirling fingers illustrating like live brushes. + +"Oh," said the three giants. + +The voyagers deserted the raft. They looked back, feeling in their +hearts a mite of tenderness for the wet planks. Later, they wriggled up +the side of the vessel and climbed over the railing. + +On deck they met a man. + +He held a lantern to their faces. "Got any chewin' tewbacca?" he +inquired. + +"No," said the tall man, "we ain't." + +The man had a bronze face and solitary whiskers. Peculiar lines about +his mouth were shaped into an eternal smile of derision. His feet were +bare, and clung handily to crevices. + +Fearful trousers were supported by a piece of suspender that went up the +wrong side of his chest and came down the right side of his back, +dividing him into triangles. + +"Ezekiel P. Sanford, capt'in, schooner 'Mary Jones,' of N'yack, N. Y., +genelmen," he said. + +"Ah!" said the tall man, "delighted, I'm sure." + +There were a few moments of silence. The giants were hovering in the +gloom and staring. + +Suddenly astonishment exploded the captain. + +"Wot th' devil----" he shouted. "Wot th' devil yeh got on?" + +"Bathing-suits," said the tall man. + + +CHAPTER IV + +The schooner went on. The two voyagers sat down and watched. After a +time they began to shiver. The soft blackness of the summer night passed +away, and grey mists writhed over the sea. Soon lights of early dawn +went changing across the sky, and the twin beacons on the highlands grew +dim and sparkling faintly, as if a monster were dying. The dawn +penetrated the marrow of the two men in bathing-dress. + +The captain used to pause opposite them, hitch one hand in his +suspender, and laugh. + +"Well, I be dog-hanged," he frequently said. + +The tall man grew furious. He snarled in a mad undertone to his +companion. "This rescue ain't right. If I had known--" + +He suddenly paused, transfixed by the captain's suspender. "It's goin' +to break," cried he, in an ecstatic whisper. His eyes grew large with +excitement as he watched the captain laugh. "It'll break in a minute, +sure." + +But the commander of the schooner recovered, and invited them to drink +and eat. They followed him along the deck, and fell down a square black +hole into the cabin. + +It was a little den, with walls of a vanished whiteness. A lamp shed an +orange light. In a sort of recess two little beds were hiding. A wooden +table, immovable, as if the craft had been builded around it, sat in the +middle of the floor. Overhead the square hole was studded with a dozen +stars. A foot-worn ladder led to the heavens. + +The captain produced ponderous crackers and some cold broiled ham. Then +he vanished in the firmament like a fantastic comet. + +The freckled man sat quite contentedly like a stout squaw in a blanket. +The tall man walked about the cabin and sniffed. He was angered at the +crudeness of the rescue, and his shrinking clothes made him feel too +large. He contemplated his unhappy state. + +Suddenly, he broke out. "I won't stand this, I tell you! Heavens and +earth, look at the--say, what in the blazes did you want to get me in +this thing for, anyhow? You're a fine old duffer, you are! Look at that +ham!" + +The freckled man grunted. He seemed somewhat blissful. He was seated +upon a bench, comfortably enwrapped in his bathing-dress. + +The tall man stormed about the cabin. + +"This is an outrage! I'll see the captain! I'll tell him what I think +of--" + +He was interrupted by a pair of legs that appeared among the stars. The +captain came down the ladder. He brought a coffee pot from the sky. + +The tall man bristled forward. He was going to denounce everything. + +The captain was intent upon the coffee pot, balancing it carefully, and +leaving his unguided feet to find the steps of the ladder. + +But the wrath of the tall man faded. He twirled his fingers in +excitement, and renewed his ecstatic whisperings to the freckled man. + +"It's going to break! Look, quick, look! It'll break in a minute!" + +He was transfixed with interest, forgetting his wrongs in staring at the +perilous passage. + +But the captain arrived on the floor with triumphant suspenders. + +"Well," said he, "after yeh have eat, maybe ye'd like t'sleep some! If +so, yeh can sleep on them beds." + +The tall man made no reply, save in a strained undertone. "It'll break +in about a minute! Look, Ted, look quick!" + +The freckled man glanced in a little bed on which were heaped boots and +oilskins. He made a courteous gesture. + +"My dear sir, we could not think of depriving you of your beds. No, +indeed. Just a couple of blankets if you have them, and we'll sleep very +comfortable on these benches." + +The captain protested, politely twisting his back and bobbing his head. +The suspenders tugged and creaked. The tall man partially suppressed a +cry, and took a step forward. + +The freckled man was sleepily insistent, and shortly the captain gave +over his deprecatory contortions. He fetched a pink quilt with yellow +dots on it to the freckled man, and a black one with red roses on it to +the tall man. + +Again he vanished in the firmament. The tall man gazed until the last +remnant of trousers disappeared from the sky. Then he wrapped himself up +in his quilt and lay down. The freckled man was puffing contentedly, +swathed like an infant. The yellow polka-dots rose and fell on the vast +pink of his chest. + +The wanderers slept. In the quiet could be heard the groanings of +timbers as the sea seemed to crunch them together. The lapping of water +along the vessel's side sounded like gaspings. A hundred spirits of the +wind had got their wings entangled in the rigging, and, in soft voices, +were pleading to be loosened. + +The freckled man was awakened by a foreign noise. He opened his eyes and +saw his companion standing by his couch. + +His comrade's face was wan with suffering. His eyes glowed in the +darkness. He raised his arms, spreading them out like a clergyman at a +grave. He groaned deep in his chest. + +"Good Lord!" yelled the freckled man, starting up. "Tom, Tom, what's th' +matter?" + +The tall man spoke in a fearful voice. "To New York," he said, "to New +York in our bathing-suits." + +The freckled man sank back. The shadows of the cabin threw mysteries +about the figure of the tall man, arrayed like some ancient and potent +astrologer in the black quilt with the red roses on it. + + +CHAPTER V + +Directly the tall man went and lay down and began to groan. + +The freckled man felt the miseries of the world upon him. He grew angry +at the tall man awakening him. They quarrelled. + +"Well," said the tall man, finally, "we're in a fix." + +"I know that," said the other, sharply. + +They regarded the ceiling in silence. + +"What in the thunder are we going to do?" demanded the tall man, after a +time. His companion was still silent. "Say," repeated he, angrily, "what +in the thunder are we going to do?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," said the freckled man in a dismal voice. + +"Well, think of something," roared the other. "Think of something, you +old fool. You don't want to make any more idiots of yourself, do you?" + +"I ain't made an idiot of myself." + +"Well, think. Know anybody in the city?" + +"I know a fellow up in Harlem," said the freckled man. + +"You know a fellow up in Harlem," howled the tall man. "Up in Harlem! +How the dickens are we to--say, you're crazy!" + +"We can take a cab," cried the other, waxing indignant. + +The tall man grew suddenly calm. "Do you know any one else?" he asked, +measuredly. + +"I know another fellow somewhere on Park Place." + +"Somewhere on Park Place," repeated the tall man in an unnatural manner. +"Somewhere on Park Place." With an air of sublime resignation he turned +his face to the wall. + +The freckled man sat erect and frowned in the direction of his +companion. "Well, now, I suppose you are going to sulk. You make me ill! +It's the best we can do, ain't it? Hire a cab and go look that fellow up +on Park--What's that? You can't afford it? What nonsense! You are +getting--Oh! Well, maybe we can beg some clothes of the captain. Eh? +Did I see 'im? Certainly, I saw 'im. Yes, it is improbable that a man +who wears trousers like that can have clothes to lend. No, I won't wear +oilskins and a sou'-wester. To Athens? Of course not! I don't know where +it is. Do you? I thought not. With all your grumbling about other +people, you never know anything important yourself. What? Broadway? I'll +be hanged first. We can get off at Harlem, man alive. There are no cabs +in Harlem. I don't think we can bribe a sailor to take us ashore and +bring a cab to the dock, for the very simple reason that we have nothing +to bribe him with. What? No, of course not. See here, Tom Sharp, don't +you swear at me like that. I won't have it. What's that? I ain't, +either. I ain't. What? I am not. It's no such thing. I ain't. I've got +more than you have, anyway. Well, you ain't doing anything so very +brilliant yourself--just lying there and cussin'." At length the tall +man feigned prodigiously to snore. The freckled man thought with such +vigor that he fell asleep. + +After a time he dreamed that he was in a forest where bass drums grew on +trees. There came a strong wind that banged the fruit about like empty +pods. A frightful din was in his ears. + +He awoke to find the captain of the schooner standing over him. + +"We're at New York now," said the captain, raising his voice above the +thumping and banging that was being done on deck, "an' I s'pose you +fellers wanta go ashore." He chuckled in an exasperating manner. "Jes' +sing out when yeh wanta go," he added, leering at the freckled man. + +The tall man awoke, came over and grasped the captain by the throat. + +"If you laugh again I'll kill you," he said. + +The captain gurgled and waved his legs and arms. + +"In the first place," the tall man continued, "you rescued us in a +deucedly shabby manner. It makes me ill to think of it. I've a mind to +mop you 'round just for that. In the second place, your vessel is bound +for Athens, N. Y., and there's no sense in it. Now, will you or will you +not turn this ship about and take us back where our clothes are, or to +Philadelphia, where we belong?" + +He furiously shook the captain. Then he eased his grip and awaited a +reply. + +"I can't," yelled the captain, "I can't. This vessel don't belong to me. +I've got to--" + +"Well, then," interrupted the tall man, "can you lend us some clothes?" + +"Hain't got none," replied the captain, promptly. His face was red, and +his eyes were glaring. + +"Well, then," said the tall man, "can you lend us some money?" + +"Hain't got none," replied the captain, promptly. Something overcame him +and he laughed. + +"Thunderation," roared the tall man. He seized the captain, who began to +have wriggling contortions. The tall man kneaded him as if he were +biscuits. "You infernal scoundrel," he bellowed, "this whole affair is +some wretched plot, and you are in it. I am about to kill you." + +The solitary whisker of the captain did acrobatic feats like a strange +demon upon his chin. His eyes stood perilously from his head. The +suspender wheezed and tugged like the tackle of a sail. + +Suddenly the tall man released his hold. Great expectancy sat upon his +features. "It's going to break!" he cried, rubbing his hands. + +But the captain howled and vanished in the sky. + +The freckled man then came forward. He appeared filled with sarcasm. + +"So!" said he. "So, you've settled the matter. The captain is the only +man in the world who can help us, and I daresay he'll do anything he can +now." + +"That's all right," said the tall man. "If you don't like the way I run +things you shouldn't have come on this trip at all." + +They had another quarrel. + +At the end of it they went on deck. The captain stood at the stern +addressing the bow with opprobrious language. When he perceived the +voyagers he began to fling his fists about in the air. + +"I'm goin' to put yeh off!" he yelled. The wanderers stared at each +other. + +"Hum," said the tall man. + +The freckled man looked at his companion. "He's going to put us off, you +see," he said, complacently. + +The tall man began to walk about and move his shoulders. "I'd like to +see you do it," he said, defiantly. + +The captain tugged at a rope. A boat came at his bidding. + +"I'd like to see you do it," the tall man repeated, continually. An +imperturbable man in rubber boots climbed down in the boat and seized +the oars. The captain motioned downward. His whisker had a triumphant +appearance. + +The two wanderers looked at the boat. "I guess we'll have to get in," +murmured the freckled man. + +The tall man was standing like a granite column. "I won't," said he. "I +won't! I don't care what you do, but I won't!" + +"Well, but--" expostulated the other. They held a furious debate. + +In the meantime the captain was darting about making sinister gestures, +but the back of the tall man held him at bay. The crew, much depleted by +the departure of the imperturbable man into the boat, looked on from the +bow. + +"You're a fool," the freckled man concluded his argument. + +"So?" inquired the tall man, highly exasperated. + +"So! Well, if you think you're so bright, we'll go in the boat, and then +you'll see." + +He climbed down into the craft and seated himself in an ominous manner +at the stern. + +"You'll see," he said to his companion, as the latter floundered heavily +down. "You'll see!" + +The man in rubber boots calmly rowed the boat toward the shore. As they +went, the captain leaned over the railing and laughed. The freckled man +was seated very victoriously. + +"Well, wasn't this the right thing after all?" he inquired in a pleasant +voice. The tall man made no reply. + + +CHAPTER VI + +As they neared the dock something seemed suddenly to occur to the +freckled man. + +"Great heavens!" he murmured. He stared at the approaching shore. + +"My, what a plight, Tommy!" he quavered. + +"Do you think so?" spoke up the tall man. "Why, I really thought you +liked it." He laughed in a hard voice. "Lord, what a figure you'll cut." + +This laugh jarred the freckled man's soul. He became mad. + +"Thunderation, turn the boat around!" he roared. "Turn 'er round, quick! +Man alive, we can't--turn 'er round, d'ye hear!" + +The tall man in the stern gazed at his companion with glowing eyes. + +"Certainly not," he said. "We're going on. You insisted Upon it." He +began to prod his companion with words. + +The freckled man stood up and waved his arms. + +"Sit down," said the tall man. "You'll tip the boat over." + +The other man began to shout. + +"Sit down!" said the tall man again. + +Words bubbled from the freckled man's mouth. There was a little torrent +of sentences that almost choked him. And he protested passionately with +his hands. + +But the boat went on to the shadow of the docks. The tall man was intent +upon balancing it as it rocked dangerously during his comrade's oration. + +"Sit down," he continually repeated. + +"I won't," raged the freckled man. "I won't do anything." The boat +wobbled with these words. + +"Say," he continued, addressing the oarsman, "just turn this boat round, +will you? Where in the thunder are you taking us to, anyhow?" + +The oarsman looked at the sky and thought. Finally he spoke. "I'm doin' +what the cap'n sed." + +"Well, what in th' blazes do I care what the cap'n sed?" demanded the +freckled man. He took a violent step. "You just turn this round or--" + +The small craft reeled. Over one side water came flashing in. The +freckled man cried out in fear, and gave a jump to the other side. The +tall man roared orders, and the oarsman made efforts. The boat acted for +a moment like an animal on a slackened wire. Then it upset. + +"Sit down!" said the tall man, in a final roar as he was plunged into +the water. The oarsman dropped his oars to grapple with the gunwale. He +went down saying unknown words. The freckled man's explanation or +apology was strangled by the water. + +Two or three tugs let off whistles of astonishment, and continued on +their paths. A man dozing on a dock aroused and began to caper. + +The passengers on a ferry-boat all ran to the near railing. A miraculous +person in a small boat was bobbing on the waves near the piers. He +sculled hastily toward the scene. It was a swirl of waters in the midst +of which the dark bottom of the boat appeared, whale-like. + +Two heads suddenly came up. + +"839," said the freckled man, chokingly. "That's it! 839!" + +"What is?" said the tall man. + +"That's the number of that feller on Park Place. I just remembered." + +"You're the bloomingest--" the tall man said. + +"It wasn't my fault," interrupted his companion. "If you hadn't--" He +tried to gesticulate, but one hand held to the keel of the boat, and the +other was supporting the form of the oarsman. The latter had fought a +battle with his immense rubber boots and had been conquered. + +The rescuer in the other small boat came fiercely. As his craft glided +up, he reached out and grasped the tall man by the collar and dragged +him into the boat, interrupting what was, under the circumstances, a +very brilliant flow of rhetoric directed at the freckled man. The +oarsman of the wrecked craft was taken tenderly over the gunwale and +laid in the bottom of the boat. Puffing and blowing, the freckled man +climbed in. + +"You'll upset this one before we can get ashore," the other voyager +remarked. + +As they turned toward the land they saw that the nearest dock was lined +with people. The freckled man gave a little moan. + +But the staring eyes of the crowd were fixed on the limp form of the man +in rubber boots. A hundred hands reached down to help lift the body up. +On the dock some men grabbed it and began to beat it and roll it. A +policeman tossed the spectators about. Each individual in the heaving +crowd sought to fasten his eyes on the blue-tinted face of the man in +the rubber boots. They surged to and fro, while the policeman beat them +indiscriminately. + +The wanderers came modestly up the dock and gazed shrinkingly at the +throng. They stood for a moment, holding their breath to see the first +finger of amazement levelled at them. + +But the crowd bended and surged in absorbing anxiety to view the man in +rubber boots, whose face fascinated them. The sea-wanderers were as +though they were not there. + +They stood without the jam and whispered hurriedly. + +"839," said the freckled man. + +"All right," said the tall man. + +Under the pommeling hands the oarsman showed signs of life. The voyagers +watched him make a protesting kick at the leg of the crowd, the while +uttering angry groans. + +"He's better," said the tall man, softly; "let's make off." + +Together they stole noiselessly up the dock. Directly in front of it +they found a row of six cabs. + +The drivers on top were filled with a mighty curiosity. They had driven +hurriedly from the adjacent ferry-house when they had seen the first +running sign of an accident. They were straining on their toes and +gazing at the tossing backs of the men in the crowd. + +The wanderers made a little detour, and then went rapidly towards a cab. +They stopped in front of it and looked up. + +"Driver," called the tall man, softly. + +The man was intent. + +"Driver," breathed the freckled man. They stood for a moment and gazed +imploringly. + +The cabman suddenly moved his feet. "By Jimmy, I bet he's a gonner," he +said, in an ecstacy, and he again relapsed into a statue. + +The freckled man groaned and wrung his hands. The tall man climbed into +the cab. + +"Come in here," he said to his companion. The freckled man climbed in, +and the tall man reached over and pulled the door shut. Then he put his +head out the window. + +"Driver," he roared, sternly, "839 Park Place--and quick." + +The driver looked down and met the eye of the tall man. "Eh?--Oh--839? +Park Place? Yessir." He reluctantly gave his horse a clump on the back. +As the conveyance rattled off the wanderers huddled back among the +dingy cushions and heaved great breaths of relief. + +"Well, it's all over," said the freckled man, finally. "We're about out +of it. And quicker than I expected. Much quicker. It looked to me +sometimes that we were doomed. I am thankful to find it not so. I am +rejoiced. And I hope and trust that you--well, I don't wish to--perhaps +it is not the proper time to--that is, I don't wish to intrude a moral +at an inopportune moment, but, my dear, dear fellow, I think the time is +ripe to point out to you that your obstinacy, your selfishness, your +villainous temper, and your various other faults can make it just as +unpleasant for your ownself, my dear boy, as they frequently do for +other people. You can see what you brought us to, and I most sincerely +hope, my dear, dear fellow, that I shall soon see those signs in you +which shall lead me to believe that you have become a wiser man." + + + + +THE END OF THE BATTLE + + +A sergeant, a corporal, and fourteen men of the Twelfth Regiment of the +Line had been sent out to occupy a house on the main highway. They would +be at least a half of a mile in advance of any other picket of their own +people. Sergeant Morton was deeply angry at being sent on this duty. He +said that he was over-worked. There were at least two sergeants, he +claimed furiously, whose turn it should have been to go on this arduous +mission. He was treated unfairly; he was abused by his superiors; why +did any damned fool ever join the army? As for him he would get out of +it as soon as possible; he was sick of it; the life of a dog. All this +he said to the corporal, who listened attentively, giving grunts of +respectful assent. On the way to this post two privates took occasion to +drop to the rear and pilfer in the orchard of a deserted plantation. +When the sergeant discovered this absence, he grew black with a rage +which was an accumulation of all his irritations. "Run, you!" he howled. +"Bring them here! I'll show them--" A private ran swiftly to the rear. +The remainder of the squad began to shout nervously at the two +delinquents, whose figures they could see in the deep shade of the +orchard, hurriedly picking fruit from the ground and cramming it within +their shirts, next to their skins. The beseeching cries of their +comrades stirred the criminals more than did the barking of the +sergeant. They ran to rejoin the squad, while holding their loaded +bosoms and with their mouths open with aggrieved explanations. + +Jones faced the sergeant with a horrible cancer marked in bumps on his +left side. The disease of Patterson showed quite around the front of his +waist in many protuberances. "A nice pair!" said the sergeant, with +sudden frigidity. "You're the kind of soldiers a man wants to choose for +a dangerous outpost duty, ain't you?" + +The two privates stood at attention, still looking much aggrieved. "We +only--" began Jones huskily. + +"Oh, you 'only!'" cried the sergeant. "Yes, you 'only.' I know all about +that. But if you think you are going to trifle with me--" + +A moment later the squad moved on towards its station. Behind the +sergeant's back Jones and Patterson were slyly passing apples and pears +to their friends while the sergeant expounded eloquently to the +corporal. "You see what kind of men are in the army now. Why, when I +joined the regiment it was a very different thing, I can tell you. Then +a sergeant had some authority, and if a man disobeyed orders, he had a +very small chance of escaping something extremely serious. But now! Good +God! If I report these men, the captain will look over a lot of beastly +orderly sheets and say--'Haw, eh, well, Sergeant Morton, these men seem +to have very good records; very good records, indeed. I can't be too +hard on them; no, not too hard.'" Continued the sergeant: "I tell you, +Flagler, the army is no place for a decent man." + +Flagler, the corporal, answered with a sincerity of appreciation which +with him had become a science. "I think you are right, sergeant," he +answered. + +Behind them the privates mumbled discreetly. "Damn this sergeant of +ours. He thinks we are made of wood. I don't see any reason for all this +strictness when we are on active service. It isn't like being at home in +barracks! There is no great harm in a couple of men dropping out to raid +an orchard of the enemy when all the world knows that we haven't had a +decent meal in twenty days." + +The reddened face of Sergeant Morton suddenly showed to the rear. "A +little more marching and less talking," he said. + +When he came to the house he had been ordered to occupy the sergeant +sniffed with disdain. "These people must have lived like cattle," he +said angrily. To be sure, the place was not alluring. The ground floor +had been used for the housing of cattle, and it was dark and terrible. A +flight of steps led to the lofty first floor, which was denuded but +respectable. The sergeant's visage lightened when he saw the strong +walls of stone and cement. "Unless they turn guns on us, they will never +get us out of here," he said cheerfully to the squad. The men, anxious +to keep him in an amiable mood, all hurriedly grinned and seemed very +appreciative and pleased. "I'll make this into a fortress," he +announced. He sent Jones and Patterson, the two orchard thieves, out on +sentry-duty. He worked the others, then, until he could think of no more +things to tell them to do. Afterwards he went forth, with a major- +general's serious scowl, and examined the ground in front of his +position. In returning he came upon a sentry, Jones, munching an apple. +He sternly commanded him to throw it away. + +The men spread their blankets on the floors of the bare rooms, and +putting their packs under their heads and lighting their pipes, they +lived an easy peace. Bees hummed in the garden, and a scent of flowers +came through the open window. A great fan-shaped bit of sunshine smote +the face of one man, and he indolently cursed as he moved his primitive +bed to a shadier place. + +Another private explained to a comrade: "This is all nonsense anyhow. No +sense in occupying this post. They--" + +"But, of course," said the corporal, "when she told me herself that she +cared more for me than she did for him, I wasn't going to stand any of +his talk--" The corporal's listener was so sleepy that he could only +grunt his sympathy. + +There was a sudden little spatter of shooting. A cry from Jones rang +out. With no intermediate scrambling, the sergeant leaped straight to +his feet. "Now," he cried, "let us see what you are made of! If," he +added bitterly, "you are made of anything!" + +A man yelled: "Good God, can't you see you're all tangled up in my +cartridge belt?" + +Another man yelled: "Keep off my legs! Can't you walk on the floor?" + +To the windows there was a blind rush of slumberous men, who brushed +hair from their eyes even as they made ready their rifles. Jones and +Patterson came stumbling up the steps, crying dreadful information. +Already the enemy's bullets were spitting and singing over the house. + +The sergeant suddenly was stiff and cold with a sense of the importance +of the thing. "Wait until you see one," he drawled loudly and calmly, +"then shoot." + +For some moments the enemy's bullets swung swifter than lightning over +the house without anybody being able to discover a target. In this +interval a man was shot in the throat. He gurgled, and then lay down on +the floor. The blood slowly waved down the brown skin of his neck while +he looked meekly at his comrades. + +There was a howl. "There they are! There they come!" The rifles +crackled. A light smoke drifted idly through the rooms. There was a +strong odor as if from burnt paper and the powder of firecrackers. The +men were silent. Through the windows and about the house the bullets of +an entirely invisible enemy moaned, hummed, spat, burst, and sang. + +The men began to curse. "Why can't we see them?" they muttered through +their teeth. The sergeant was still frigid. He answered soothingly as if +he were directly reprehensible for this behavior of the enemy. "Wait a +moment. You will soon be able to see them. There! Give it to them!" A +little skirt of black figures had appeared in a field. It was really +like shooting at an upright needle from the full length of a ballroom. +But the men's spirits improved as soon as the enemy--this mysterious +enemy--became a tangible thing, and far off. They had believed the foe +to be shooting at them from the adjacent garden. + +"Now," said the sergeant ambitiously, "we can beat them off easily if +you men are good enough." + +A man called out in a tone of quick, great interest. "See that fellow on +horseback, Bill? Isn't he on horseback? I thought he was on horseback." + +There was a fusilade against another side of the house. The sergeant +dashed into the room which commanded the situation. He found a dead +soldier on the floor. He rushed out howling: "When was Knowles killed? +When was Knowles killed? When was Knowles killed? Damn it, when was +Knowles killed?" It was absolutely essential to find out the exact +moment this man died. A blackened private turned upon his sergeant and +demanded: "How in hell do I know?" Sergeant Morton had a sense of anger +so brief that in the next second he cried: "Patterson!" He had even +forgotten his vital interest in the time of Knowles' death. + +"Yes?" said Patterson, his face set with some deep-rooted quality of +determination. Still, he was a mere farm boy. + +"Go in to Knowles' window and shoot at those people," said the sergeant +hoarsely. Afterwards he coughed. Some of the fumes of the fight had made +way to his lungs. + +Patterson looked at the door into this other room. He looked at it as if +he suspected it was to be his death-chamber. Then he entered and stood +across the body of Knowles and fired vigorously into a group of plum +trees. + +"They can't take this house," declared the sergeant in a contemptuous +and argumentative tone. He was apparently replying to somebody. The man +who had been shot in the throat looked up at him. Eight men were firing +from the windows. The sergeant detected in a corner three wounded men +talking together feebly. "Don't you think there is anything to do?" he +bawled. "Go and get Knowles' cartridges and give them to somebody who +can use them! Take Simpson's too." The man who had been shot in the +throat looked at him. Of the three wounded men who had been talking, one +said: "My leg is all doubled up under me, sergeant." He spoke +apologetically. + +Meantime the sergeant was re-loading his rifle. His foot slipped in the +blood of the man who had been shot in the throat, and the military boot +made a greasy red streak on the floor. + +"Why, we can hold this place!" shouted the sergeant jubilantly. "Who +says we can't?" + +Corporal Flagler suddenly spun away from his window and fell in a heap. + +"Sergeant," murmured a man as he dropped to a seat on the floor out of +danger, "I can't stand this. I swear I can't. I think we should run +away." + +Morton, with the kindly eyes of a good shepherd, looked at the man. "You +are afraid, Johnston, you are afraid," he said softly. The man struggled +to his feet, cast upon the sergeant a gaze full of admiration, reproach, +and despair, and returned to his post. A moment later he pitched +forward, and thereafter his body hung out of the window, his arms +straight and the fists clenched. Incidentally this corpse was pierced +afterwards by chance three times by bullets of the enemy. + +The sergeant laid his rifle against the stonework of the window-frame +and shot with care until his magazine was empty. Behind him a man, +simply grazed on the elbow, was wildly sobbing like a girl. "Damn it, +shut up!" said Morton, without turning his head. Before him was a vista +of a garden, fields, clumps of trees, woods, populated at the time with +little fleeting figures. + +He grew furious. "Why didn't he send me orders?" he cried aloud. The +emphasis on the word "he" was impressive. A mile back on the road a +galloper of the Hussars lay dead beside his dead horse. + +The man who had been grazed on the elbow still set up his bleat. +Morton's fury veered to this soldier. "Can't you shut up? Can't you shut +up? Can't you shut up? Fight! That's the thing to do. Fight!" + +A bullet struck Morton, and he fell upon the man who had been shot in +the throat. There was a sickening moment. Then the sergeant rolled off +to a position upon the bloody floor. He turned himself with a last +effort until he could look at the wounded who were able to look at him. + +"Kim up, the Kickers," he said thickly. His arms weakened and he dropped +on his face. + +After an interval a young subaltern of the enemy's infantry, followed by +his eager men, burst into this reeking interior. But just over the +threshold he halted before the scene of blood and death. He turned with +a shrug to his sergeant. "God, I should have estimated them at least one +hundred strong." + + + + +UPTURNED FACE + + +"What will we do now?" said the adjutant, troubled and excited. + +"Bury him," said Timothy Lean. + +The two officers looked down close to their toes where lay the body of +their comrade. The face was chalk-blue; gleaming eyes stared at the sky. +Over the two upright figures was a windy sound of bullets, and on the +top of the hill Lean's prostrate company of Spitzbergen infantry was +firing measured volleys. + +"Don't you think it would be better--" began the adjutant. "We might +leave him until tomorrow." + +"No," said Lean. "I can't hold that post an hour longer. I've got to +fall back, and we've got to bury old Bill." + +"Of course," said the adjutant, at once. "Your men got intrenching +tools?" + +Lean shouted back to his little line, and two men came slowly, one with +a pick, one with a shovel. They started in the direction of the Rostina +sharp-shooters. Bullets cracked near their ears. "Dig here," said Lean +gruffly. The men, thus caused to lower their glances to the turf, became +hurried and frightened merely because they could not look to see whence +the bullets came. The dull beat of the pick striking the earth sounded +amid the swift snap of close bullets. Presently the other private began +to shovel. + +"I suppose," said the adjutant, slowly, "we'd better search his clothes +for--things." + +Lean nodded. Together in curious abstraction they looked at the body. +Then Lean stirred his shoulders suddenly, arousing himself. + +"Yes," he said, "we'd better see what he's got." He dropped to his +knees, and his hands approached the body of the dead officer. But his +hands wavered over the buttons of the tunic. The first button was brick- +red with drying blood, and he did not seem to dare touch it. + +"Go on," said the adjutant, hoarsely. + +Lean stretched his wooden hand, and his fingers fumbled the blood- +stained buttons. At last he rose with ghastly face. He had gathered a +watch, a whistle, a pipe, a tobacco pouch, a handkerchief, a little case +of cards and papers. He looked at the adjutant. There was a silence. The +adjutant was feeling that he had been a coward to make Lean do all the +grisly business. + +"Well," said Lean, "that's all, I think. You have his sword and +revolver?" + +"Yes," said the adjutant, his face working, and then he burst out in a +sudden strange fury at the two privates. "Why don't you hurry up with +that grave? What are you doing, anyhow? Hurry, do you hear? I never saw +such stupid--" + +Even as he cried out in his passion the two men were laboring for their +lives. Ever overhead the bullets were spitting. + +The grave was finished, It was not a masterpiece--a poor little shallow +thing. Lean and the adjutant again looked at each other in a curious +silent communication. + +Suddenly the adjutant croaked out a weird laugh. It was a terrible +laugh, which had its origin in that part of the mind which is first +moved by the singing of the nerves. "Well," he said, humorously to Lean, +"I suppose we had best tumble him in." + +"Yes," said Lean. The two privates stood waiting, bent over their +implements. "I suppose," said Lean, "it would be better if we laid him +in ourselves." + +"Yes," said the adjutant. Then apparently remembering that he had made +Lean search the body, he stooped with great fortitude and took hold of +the dead officer's clothing. Lean joined him. Both were particular that +their fingers should not feel the corpse. They tugged away; the corpse +lifted, heaved, toppled, flopped into the grave, and the two officers, +straightening, looked again at each other--they were always looking at +each other. They sighed with relief. + +The adjutant said, "I suppose we should--we should say something. Do you +know the service, Tim?" + +"They don't read the service until the grave is filled in," said Lean, +pressing his lips to an academic expression. + +"Don't they?" said the adjutant, shocked that he had made the mistake. + +"Oh, well," he cried, suddenly, "let us--let us say something--while he +can hear us." + +"All right," said Lean. "Do you know the service?" + +"I can't remember a line of it," said the adjutant. + +Lean was extremely dubious. "I can repeat two lines, but--" + +"Well, do it," said the adjutant. "Go as far as you can. That's better +than nothing. And the beasts have got our range exactly." + +Lean looked at his two men. "Attention," he barked. The privates came to +attention with a click, looking much aggrieved. The adjutant lowered his +helmet to his knee. Lean, bareheaded, he stood over the grave. The +Rostina sharpshooters fired briskly. + +"Oh, Father, our friend has sunk in the deep waters of death, but his +spirit has leaped toward Thee as the bubble arises from the lips of the +drowning. Perceive, we beseech, O Father, the little flying bubble, +and--". + +Lean, although husky and ashamed, had suffered no hesitation up to this +point, but he stopped with a hopeless feeling and looked at the corpse. + +The adjutant moved uneasily. "And from Thy superb heights--" he began, +and then he too came to an end. + +"And from Thy superb heights," said Lean. + +The adjutant suddenly remembered a phrase in the back part of the +Spitzbergen burial service, and he exploited it with the triumphant +manner of a man who has recalled everything, and can go on. + +"Oh, God, have mercy--" + +"Oh, God, have mercy--" said Lean. + +"Mercy," repeated the adjutant, in quick failure. + +"Mercy," said Lean. And then he was moved by some violence of feeling, +for he turned suddenly upon his two men and tigerishly said, "Throw the +dirt in." + +The fire of the Rostina sharpshooters was accurate and continuous. + + * * * * * + +One of the aggrieved privates came forward with his shovel. He lifted +his first shovel-load of earth, and for a moment of inexplicable +hesitation it was held poised above this corpse, which from its chalk- +blue face looked keenly out from the grave. Then the soldier emptied his +shovel on--on the feet. + +Timothy Lean felt as if tons had been swiftly lifted from off his +forehead. He had felt that perhaps the private might empty the shovel +on--on the face. It had been emptied on the feet. There was a great +point gained there--ha, ha!--the first shovelful had been emptied on +the feet. How satisfactory! + +The adjutant began to babble. "Well, of course--a man we've messed with +all these years--impossible--you can't, you know, leave your intimate +friends rotting on the field. Go on, for God's sake, and shovel, you!" + +The man with the shovel suddenly ducked, grabbed his left arm with his +right hand, and looked at his officer for orders. Lean picked the shovel +from the ground. "Go to the rear," he said to the wounded man. He also +addressed the other private. "You get under cover, too; I'll finish this +business." + +The wounded man scrambled hard still for the top of the ridge without +devoting any glances to the direction whence the bullets came, and the +other man followed at an equal pace; but he was different, in that he +looked back anxiously three times. + +This is merely the way--often--of the hit and unhit. + +Timothy Lean filled the shovel, hesitated, and then in a movement which +was like a gesture of abhorrence he flung the dirt into the grave, and +as it landed it made a sound--plop! Lean suddenly stopped and mopped his +brow--a tired laborer. + +"Perhaps we have been wrong," said the adjutant. His glance wavered +stupidly. "It might have been better if we hadn't buried him just at +this time. Of course, if we advance to-morrow the body would have +been--" + +"Damn you," said Lean, "shut your mouth!" He was not the senior officer. + +He again filled the shovel and flung the earth. Always the earth made +that sound--plop! For a space Lean worked frantically, like a man +digging himself out of danger. + +Soon there was nothing to be seen but the chalk-blue face. Lean filled +the shovel. "Good God," he cried to the adjutant. "Why didn't you turn +him somehow when you put him in? This--" Then Lean began to stutter. + +The adjutant understood. He was pale to the lips. "Go on, man," he +cried, beseechingly, almost in a shout. Lean swung back the shovel. It +went forward in a pendulum curve. When the earth landed it made a sound +--plop! + + + + +AN EPISODE OF WAR + + +The lieutenant's rubber blanket lay on the ground, and upon it he had +poured the company's supply of coffee. Corporals and other +representatives of the grimy and hot-throated men who lined the +breastwork had come for each squad's portion. + +The lieutenant was frowning and serious at this task of division. His +lips pursed as he drew with his sword various crevices in the heap until +brown squares of coffee, astoundingly equal in size, appeared on the +blanket. He was on the verge of a great triumph in mathematics, and the +corporals were thronging forward, each to reap a little square, when +suddenly the lieutenant cried out and looked quickly at a man near him +as if he suspected it was a case of personal assault. The others cried +out also when they saw blood upon the lieutenant's sleeve. + +He had winced like a man stung, swayed dangerously, and then +straightened. The sound of his hoarse breathing was plainly audible. He +looked sadly, mystically, over the breastwork at the green face of a +wood, where now were many little puffs of white smoke. During this +moment the men about him gazed statue-like and silent, astonished and +awed by this catastrophe which happened when catastrophes were not +expected--when they had leisure to observe it. + +As the lieutenant stared at the wood, they too swung their heads, so +that for another instant all hands, still silent, contemplated the +distant forest as if their minds were fixed upon the mystery of a +bullet's journey. + +The officer had, of course, been compelled to take his sword into his +left hand. He did not hold it by the hilt. He gripped it at the middle +of the blade, awkwardly. Turning his eyes from the hostile wood, he +looked at the sword as he held it there, and seemed puzzled as to what +to do with it, where to put it. In short, this weapon had of a sudden +become a strange thing to him. He looked at it in a kind of +stupefaction, as if he had been endowed with a trident, a sceptre, or a +spade. + +Finally he tried to sheath it. To sheath a sword held by the left hand, +at the middle of the blade, in a scabbard hung at the left hip, is a +feat worthy of a sawdust ring. This wounded officer engaged in a +desperate struggle with the sword and the wobbling scabbard, and during +the time of it he breathed like a wrestler. + +But at this instant the men, the spectators, awoke from their stone-like +poses and crowded forward sympathetically. The orderly-sergeant took the +sword and tenderly placed it in the scabbard. At the time, he leaned +nervously backward, and did not allow even his finger to brush the body +of the lieutenant. A wound gives strange dignity to him who bears it. +Well men shy from this new and terrible majesty. It is as if the wounded +man's hand is upon the curtain which hangs before the revelations of all +existence--the meaning of ants, potentates, wars, cities, sunshine, +snow, a feather dropped from a bird's wing; and the power of it sheds +radiance upon a bloody form, and makes the other men understand +sometimes that they are little. His comrades look at him with large eyes +thoughtfully. Moreover, they fear vaguely that the weight of a finger +upon him might send him headlong, precipitate the tragedy, hurl him at +once into the dim, grey unknown. And so the orderly-sergeant, while +sheathing the sword, leaned nervously backward. + +There were others who proffered assistance. One timidly presented his +shoulder and asked the lieutenant if he cared to lean upon it, but the +latter waved him away mournfully. He wore the look of one who knows he +is the victim of a terrible disease and understands his helplessness. He +again stared over the breastwork at the forest, and then turning went +slowly rearward. He held his right wrist tenderly in his left hand as if +the wounded arm was made of very brittle glass. + +And the men in silence stared at the wood, then at the departing +lieutenant--then at the wood, then at the lieutenant. + +As the wounded officer passed from the line of battle, he was enabled to +see many things which as a participant in the fight were unknown to him. +He saw a general on a black horse gazing over the lines of blue infantry +at the green woods which veiled his problems. An aide galloped +furiously, dragged his horse suddenly to a halt, saluted, and presented +a paper. It was, for a wonder, precisely like an historical painting. + +To the rear of the general and his staff a group, composed of a bugler, +two or three orderlies, and the bearer of the corps standard, all upon +maniacal horses, were working like slaves to hold their ground, +preserve, their respectful interval, while the shells boomed in the air +about them, and caused their chargers to make furious quivering leaps. + +A battery, a tumultuous and shining mass, was swirling toward the right. +The wild thud of hoofs, the cries of the riders shouting blame and +praise, menace and encouragement, and, last the roar of the wheels, the +slant of the glistening guns, brought the lieutenant to an intent pause. +The battery swept in curves that stirred the heart; it made halts as +dramatic as the crash of a wave on the rocks, and when it fled onward, +this aggregation of wheels, levers, motors, had a beautiful unity, as if +it were a missile. The sound of it was a war-chorus that reached into +the depths of man's emotion. + +The lieutenant, still holding his arm as if it were of glass, stood +watching this battery until all detail of it was lost, save the figures +of the riders, which rose and fell and waved lashes over the black mass. + +Later, he turned his eyes toward the battle where the shooting sometimes +crackled like bush-fires, sometimes sputtered with exasperating +irregularity, and sometimes reverberated like the thunder. He saw the +smoke rolling upward and saw crowds of men who ran and cheered, or stood +and blazed away at the inscrutable distance. + +He came upon some stragglers, and they told him how to find the field +hospital. They described its exact location. In fact, these men, no +longer having part in the battle, knew more of it than others. They told +the performance of every corps, every division, the opinion of every +general. The lieutenant, carrying his wounded arm rearward, looked upon +them with wonder. + +At the roadside a brigade was making coffee and buzzing with talk like a +girls' boarding-school. Several officers came out to him and inquired +concerning things of which he knew nothing. One, seeing his arm, began +to scold. "Why, man, that's no way to do. You want to fix that thing." +He appropriated the lieutenant and the lieutenant's wound. He cut the +sleeve and laid bare the arm, every nerve of which softly fluttered +under his touch. He bound his handkerchief over the wound, scolding away +in the meantime. His tone allowed one to think that he was in the habit +of being wounded every day. The lieutenant hung his head, feeling, in +this presence, that he did not know how to be correctly wounded. + +The low white tents of the hospital were grouped around an old school- +house. There was here a singular commotion. In the foreground two +ambulances interlocked wheels in the deep mud. The drivers were tossing +the blame of it back and forth, gesticulating and berating, while from +the ambulances, both crammed with wounded, there came an occasional +groan. An interminable crowd of bandaged men were coming and going. +Great numbers sat under the trees nursing heads or arms or legs. There +was a dispute of some kind raging on the steps of the school-house. +Sitting with his back against a tree a man with a face as grey as a new +army blanket was serenely smoking a corn-cob pipe. The lieutenant wished +to rush forward and inform him that he was dying. + +A busy surgeon was passing near the lieutenant. "Good-morning," he said, +with a friendly smile. Then he caught sight of the lieutenant's arm and +his face at once changed. "Well, let's have a look at it." He seemed +possessed suddenly of a great contempt for the lieutenant. This wound +evidently placed the latter on a very low social plane. The doctor cried +out impatiently, "What mutton-head had tied it up that way anyhow?" The +lieutenant answered, "Oh, a man." + +When the wound was disclosed the doctor fingered it disdainfully. +"Humph," he said. "You come along with me and I'll 'tend to you." His +voice contained the same scorn as if he were saying, "You will have to +go to jail." + +The lieutenant had been very meek, but now his face flushed, and he +looked into the doctor's eyes. "I guess I won't have it amputated," he +said. + +"Nonsense, man! Nonsense! Nonsense!" cried the doctor. "Come along, now. +I won't amputate it. Come along. Don't be a baby." + +"Let go of me," said the lieutenant, holding back wrathfully, his glance +fixed upon the door of the old school-house, as sinister to him as the +portals of death. + +And this is the story of how the lieutenant lost his arm. When he +reached home, his sisters, his mother, his wife sobbed for a long time +at the sight of the flat sleeve. "Oh, well," he said, standing +shamefaced amid these tears, "I don't suppose it matters so much as all +that." + + + + +AN EXPERIMENT IN MISERY + + +It was late at night, and a fine rain was swirling softly down, causing +the pavements to glisten with hue of steel and blue and yellow in the +rays of the innumerable lights. A youth was trudging slowly, without +enthusiasm, with his hands buried deep in his trousers' pockets, toward +the downtown places where beds can be hired for coppers. He was clothed +in an aged and tattered suit, and his derby was a marvel of dust-covered +crown and torn rim. He was going forth to eat as the wanderer may eat, +and sleep as the homeless sleep. By the time he had reached City Hall +Park he was so completely plastered with yells of "bum" and "hobo," and +with various unholy epithets that small boys had applied to him at +intervals, that he was in a state of the most profound dejection. The +sifting rain saturated the old velvet collar of his overcoat, and as the +wet cloth pressed against his neck, he felt that there no longer could +be pleasure in life. He looked about him searching for an outcast of +highest degree that they too might share miseries, but the lights threw +a quivering glare over rows and circles of deserted benches that +glistened damply, showing patches of wet sod behind them. It seemed that +their usual freights had fled on this night to better things. There were +only squads of well-dressed Brooklyn people who swarmed towards the +bridge. + +The young man loitered about for a time and then went shuffling off down +Park Row. In the sudden descent in style of the dress of the crowd he +felt relief, and as if he were at last in his own country. He began to +see tatters that matched his tatters. In Chatham Square there were +aimless men strewn in front of saloons and lodging-houses, standing +sadly, patiently, reminding one vaguely of the attitudes of chickens in +a storm. He aligned himself with these men, and turned slowly to occupy +himself with the flowing life of the great street. + +Through the mists of the cold and storming night, the cable cars went in +silent procession, great affairs shining with red and brass, moving with +formidable power, calm and irresistible, dangerful and gloomy, breaking +silence only by the loud fierce cry of the gong. Two rivers of people +swarmed along the sidewalks, spattered with black mud, which made each +shoe leave a scarlike impression. Overhead elevated trains with a shrill +grinding of the wheels stopped at the station, which upon its leglike +pillars seemed to resemble some monstrous kind of crab squatting over +the street. The quick fat puffings of the engines could be heard. Down +an alley there were somber curtains of purple and black, on which street +lamps dully glittered like embroidered flowers. + +A saloon stood with a voracious air on a corner. A sign leaning against +the front of the door-post announced "Free hot soup to-night!" The swing +doors, snapping to and fro like ravenous lips, made gratified smacks as +the saloon gorged itself with plump men, eating with astounding and +endless appetite, smiling in some indescribable manner as the men came +from all directions like sacrifices to a heathenish superstition. + +Caught by the delectable sign the young man allowed himself to be +swallowed. A bartender placed a schooner of dark and portentous beer on +the bar. Its monumental form upreared until the froth a-top was above +the crown of the young man's brown derby. + +"Soup over there, gents," said the bartender affably. A little yellow +man in rags and the youth grasped their schooners and went with speed +toward a lunch counter, where a man with oily but imposing whiskers +ladled genially from a kettle until he had furnished his two mendicants +with a soup that was steaming hot, and in which there were little +floating suggestions of chicken. The young man, sipping his broth, felt +the cordiality expressed by the warmth of the mixture, and he beamed at +the man with oily but imposing whiskers, who was presiding like a priest +behind an altar. "Have some more, gents?" he inquired of the two sorry +figures before him. The little yellow man accepted with a swift gesture, +but the youth shook his head and went out, following a man whose +wondrous seediness promised that he would have a knowledge of cheap +lodging-houses. + +On the sidewalk he accosted the seedy man. "Say, do you know a cheap +place to sleep?" + +The other hesitated for a time, gazing sideways. Finally he nodded in +the direction of the street, "I sleep up there," he said, "when I've got +the price." + +"How much?" + +"Ten cents." + The young man shook his head dolefully. "That's too rich for me." + +At that moment there approached the two a reeling man in strange +garments. His head was a fuddle of bushy hair and whiskers, from which +his eyes peered with a guilty slant. In a close scrutiny it was possible +to distinguish the cruel lines of a mouth which looked as if its lips +had just closed with satisfaction over some tender and piteous morsel. +He appeared like an assassin steeped in crimes performed awkwardly. + +But at this time his voice was tuned to the coaxing key of an +affectionate puppy. He looked at the men with wheedling eyes, and began +to sing a little melody for charity. + +"Say, gents, can't yeh give a poor feller a couple of cents t' git a +bed? I got five, and I gits anudder two I gits me a bed. Now, on th' +square, gents, can't yeh jest gimme two cents t' git a bed? Now, yeh +know how a respecter'ble gentlem'n feels when he's down on his luck, an' +I--" + +The seedy man, staring with imperturbable countenance at a train which +clattered overhead, interrupted in an expressionless voice--"Ah, go t' +h----!" + +But the youth spoke to the prayerful assassin in tones of astonishment +and inquiry. "Say, you must be crazy! Why don't yeh strike somebody that +looks as if they had money?" + +The assassin, tottering about on his uncertain legs, and at intervals +brushing imaginary obstacles from before his nose, entered into a long +explanation of the psychology of the situation. It was so profound that +it was unintelligible. + +When he had exhausted the subject, the young man said to him: + +"Let's see th' five cents." + +The assassin wore an expression of drunken woe at this sentence, filled +with suspicion of him. With a deeply pained air he began to fumble in +his clothing, his red hands trembling. Presently he announced in a voice +of bitter grief, as if he had been betrayed--"There's on'y four." + +"Four," said the young man thoughtfully. "Well, look here, I'm a +stranger here, an' if ye'll steer me to your cheap joint I'll find the +other three." + +The assassin's countenance became instantly radiant with joy. His +whiskers quivered with the wealth of his alleged emotions. He seized the +young man's hand in a transport of delight and friendliness. + +"B' Gawd," he cried, "if ye'll do that, b' Gawd, I'd say yeh was a +damned good fellow, I would, an' I'd remember yeh all m' life, I would, +b' Gawd, an' if I ever got a chance I'd return the compliment"--he spoke +with drunken dignity--"b' Gawd, I'd treat yeh white, I would, an' I'd +allus remember yeh." + +The young man drew back, looking at the assassin coldly. "Oh, that's all +right," he said. "You show me th' joint--that's all you've got t' do." + +The assassin, gesticulating gratitude, led the young man along a dark +street. Finally he stopped before a little dusty door. He raised his +hand impressively. "Look-a-here," he said, and there was a thrill of +deep and ancient wisdom upon his face, "I've brought yeh here, an' +that's my part, ain't it? If th' place don't suit yeh, yeh needn't git +mad at me, need yeh? There won't be no bad feelin', will there?" + +"No," said the young man. + +The assassin waved his arm tragically, and led the march up the steep +stairway. On the way the young man furnished the assassin with three +pennies. At the top a man with benevolent spectacles looked at them +through a hole in a board. He collected their money, wrote some names on +a register, and speedily was leading the two men along a gloom-shrouded +corridor. + +Shortly after the beginning of this journey the young man felt his liver +turn white, for from the dark and secret places of the building there +suddenly came to his nostrils strange and unspeakable odors, that +assailed him like malignant diseases with wings. They seemed to be from +human bodies closely packed in dens; the exhalations from a hundred +pairs of reeking lips; the fumes from a thousand bygone debauches; the +expression of a thousand present miseries. + +A man, naked save for a little snuff-colored undershirt, was parading +sleepily along the corridor. He rubbed his eyes, and, giving vent to a +prodigious yawn, demanded to be told the time. + +"Half-past one." + +The man yawned again. He opened a door, and for a moment his form was +outlined against a black, opaque interior. To this door came the three +men, and as it was again opened the unholy odors rushed out like fiends, +so that the young man was obliged to struggle as against an overpowering +wind. + +It was some time before the youth's eyes were good in the intense gloom +within, but the man with benevolent spectacles led him skilfully, +pausing but a moment to deposit the limp assassin upon a cot. He took +the youth to a cot that lay tranquilly by the window, and showing him a +tall locker for clothes that stood near the head with the ominous air of +a tombstone, left him. + +The youth sat on his cot and peered about him. There was a gas-jet in a +distant part of the room, that burned a small flickering orange-hued +flame. It caused vast masses of tumbled shadows in all parts of the +place, save where, immediately about it, there was a little grey haze. +As the young man's eyes became used to the darkness, he could see upon +the cots that thickly littered the floor the forms of men sprawled out, +lying in deathlike silence, or heaving and snoring with tremendous +effort, like stabbed fish. + +The youth locked his derby and his shoes in the mummy case near him, and +then lay down with an old and familiar coat around his shoulders. A +blanket he handed gingerly, drawing it over part of the coat. The cot +was covered with leather, and as cold as melting snow. The youth was +obliged to shiver for some time on this affair, which was like a slab. +Presently, however, his chill gave him peace, and during this period of +leisure from it he turned his head to stare at his friend the assassin, +whom he could dimly discern where he lay sprawled on a cot in the +abandon of a man filled with drink. He was snoring with incredible +vigor. His wet hair and beard dimly glistened, and his inflamed nose +shone with subdued lustre like a red light in a fog. + +Within reach of the youth's hand was one who lay with yellow breast and +shoulders bare to the cold drafts. One arm hung over the side of the +cot, and the fingers lay full length upon the wet cement floor of the +room. Beneath the inky brows could be seen the eyes of the man exposed +by the partly opened lids. To the youth it seemed that he and this +corpse-like being were exchanging a prolonged stare, and that the other +threatened with his eyes. He drew back, watching his neighbor from the +shadows of his blanket edge. The man did not move once through the +night, but lay in this stillness as of death like a body stretched out +expectant of the surgeon's knife. + +And all through the room could be seen the tawny hues of naked flesh, +limbs thrust into the darkness, projecting beyond the cots; upreared +knees, arms hanging long and thin over the cot edges. For the most part +they were statuesque, carven, dead. With the curious lockers standing +all about like tombstones, there was a strange effect of a graveyard +where bodies were merely flung. + +Yet occasionally could be seen limbs wildly tossing in fantastic +nightmare gestures, accompanied by guttural cries, grunts, oaths. And +there was one fellow off in a gloomy corner, who in his dreams was +oppressed by some frightful calamity, for of a sudden he began to utter +long wails that went almost like yells from a hound, echoing wailfully +and weird through this chill place of tombstones where men lay like the +dead. + +The sound in its high piercing beginnings, that dwindled to final +melancholy moans, expressed a red and grim tragedy of the unfathomable +possibilities of the man's dreams. But to the youth these were not +merely the shrieks of a vision-pierced man: they were an utterance of +the meaning of the room and its occupants. It was to him the protest of +the wretch who feels the touch of the imperturbable granite wheels, and +who then cries with an impersonal eloquence, with a strength not from +him, giving voice to the wail of a whole section, a class, a people. +This, weaving into the young man's brain, and mingling with his views of +the vast and sombre shadows that, like mighty black fingers, curled +around the naked bodies, made the young man so that he did not sleep, +but lay carving the biographies for these men from his meagre +experience. At times the fellow in the corner howled in a writhing agony +of his imaginations. + +Finally a long lance-point of grey light shot through the dusty panes of +the window. Without, the young man could see roofs drearily white in the +dawning. The point of light yellowed and grew brighter, until the golden +rays of the morning sun came in bravely and strong. They touched with +radiant color the form of a small fat man, who snored in stuttering +fashion. His round and shiny bald head glowed suddenly with the valor of +a decoration. He sat up, blinked at the sun, swore fretfully, and pulled +his blanket over the ornamental splendors of his head. + +The youth contentedly watched this rout of the shadows before the bright +spears of the sun, and presently he slumbered. When he awoke he heard +the voice of the assassin raised in valiant curses. Putting up his head, +he perceived his comrade seated on the side of the cot engaged in +scratching his neck with long finger-nails that rasped like files. + +"Hully Jee, dis is a new breed. They've got can-openers on their feet." +He continued in a violent tirade. + +The young man hastily unlocked his closet and took out his shoes and +hat. As he sat on the side of the cot lacing his shoes, he glanced about +and saw that daylight had made the room comparatively commonplace and +uninteresting. The men, whose faces seemed stolid, serene or absent, +were engaged in dressing, while a great crackle of bantering +conversation arose. + +A few were parading in unconcerned nakedness. Here and there were men of +brawn, whose skins shone clear and ruddy. They took splendid poses, +standing massively like chiefs. When they had dressed in their ungainly +garments there was an extraordinary change. They then showed bumps and +deficiencies of all kinds. + +There were others who exhibited many deformities. Shoulders were +slanting, humped, pulled this way and pulled that way. And notable among +these latter men was the little fat man who had refused to allow his +head to be glorified. His pudgy form, builded like a pear, bustled to +and fro, while he swore in fishwife fashion. It appeared that some +article of his apparel had vanished. + +The young man attired speedily, and went to his friend the assassin. At +first the latter looked dazed at the sight of the youth. This face +seemed to be appealing to him through the cloud wastes of his memory. He +scratched his neck and reflected. At last he grinned, a broad smile +gradually spreading until his countenance was a round illumination. +"Hello, Willie," he cried cheerily. + +"Hello," said the young man. "Are yeh ready t' fly?" + +"Sure." The assassin tied his shoe carefully with some twine and came +ambling. + +When he reached the street the young man experienced no sudden relief +from unholy atmospheres. He had forgotten all about them, and had been +breathing naturally, and with no sensation of discomfort or distress. + +He was thinking of these things as he walked along the street, when he +was suddenly startled by feeling the assassin's hand, trembling with +excitement, clutching his arm, and when the assassin spoke, his voice +went into quavers from a supreme agitation. + +"I'll be hully, bloomin' blowed if there wasn't a feller with a +nightshirt on up there in that joint." + +The youth was bewildered for a moment, but presently he turned to smile +indulgently at the assassin's humor. + +"Oh, you're a d--d liar," he merely said. + +Whereupon the assassin began to gesture extravagantly, and take oath by +strange gods. He frantically placed himself at the mercy of remarkable +fates if his tale were not true. + +"Yes, he did! I cross m' heart thousan' times!" he protested, and at the +moment his eyes were large with amazement, his mouth wrinkled in +unnatural glee. + +"Yessir! A nightshirt! A hully white nightshirt!" + +"You lie!" + +"No, sir! I hope ter die b'fore I kin git anudder ball if there wasn't a +jay wid a hully, bloomin' white nightshirt!" + +His face was filled with the infinite wonder of it. "A hully white +nightshirt," he continually repeated. + +The young man saw the dark entrance to a basement restaurant. There was +a sign which read "No mystery about our hash"! and there were other age- +stained and world-battered legends which told him that the place was +within his means. He stopped before it and spoke to the assassin. "I +guess I'll git somethin' t' eat." + +At this the assassin, for some reason, appeared to be quite embarrassed. +He gazed at the seductive front of the eating place for a moment. Then +he started slowly up the street. "Well, good-bye, Willie," he said +bravely. + +For an instant the youth studied the departing figure. Then he called +out, "Hol' on a minnet." As they came together he spoke in a certain +fierce way, as if he feared that the other would think him to be +charitable. "Look-a-here, if yeh wanta git some breakfas' I'll lend yeh +three cents t' do it with. But say, look-a-here, you've gota git out an' +hustle. I ain't goin' t' support yeh, or I'll go broke b'fore night. I +ain't no millionaire." + +"I take me oath, Willie," said the assassin earnestly, "th' on'y thing I +really needs is a ball. Me t'roat feels like a fryin'-pan. But as I +can't get a ball, why, th' next bes' thing is breakfast, an' if yeh do +that for me, b'Gawd, I say yeh was th' whitest lad I ever see." + +They spent a few moments in dexterous exchanges of phrases, in which +they each protested that the other was, as the assassin had originally +said, "a respecter'ble gentlem'n." And they concluded with mutual +assurances that they were the souls of intelligence and virtue. Then +they went into the restaurant. + +There was a long counter, dimly lighted from hidden sources. Two or +three men in soiled white aprons rushed here and there. + +The youth bought a bowl of coffee for two cents and a roll for one cent. +The assassin purchased the same. The bowls were webbed with brown seams, +and the tin spoons wore an air of having emerged from the first pyramid. +Upon them were black mosslike encrustations of age, and they were bent +and scarred from the attacks of long-forgotten teeth. But over their +repast the wanderers waxed warm and mellow. The assassin grew affable as +the hot mixture went soothingly down his parched throat, and the young +man felt courage flow in his veins. + +Memories began to throng in on the assassin, and he brought forth long +tales, intricate, incoherent, delivered with a chattering swiftness as +from an old woman. "--great job out'n Orange. Boss keep yeh hustlin' +though all time. I was there three days, and then I went an' ask 'im t' +lend me a dollar. 'G-g-go ter the devil,' he ses, an' I lose me job." + +"South no good. Damn niggers work for twenty-five an' thirty cents a +day. Run white man out. Good grub, though. Easy livin'." + +"Yas; useter work little in Toledo, raftin' logs. Make two or three +dollars er day in the spring. Lived high. Cold as ice, though, in the +winter." + +"I was raised in northern N'York. O-a-ah, yeh jest oughto live there. No +beer ner whisky, though, way off in the woods. But all th' good hot grub +yeh can eat. B'Gawd, I hung around there long as I could till th' ol' +man fired me. 'Git t' hell outa here, yeh wuthless skunk, git t' hell +outa here, an' go die,' he ses. 'You're a hell of a father,' I ses, 'you +are,' an' I quit 'im." + +As they were passing from the dim eating place, they encountered an old +man who was trying to steal forth with a tiny package of food, but a +tall man with an indomitable moustache stood dragon fashion, barring the +way of escape. They heard the old man raise a plaintive protest. "Ah, +you always want to know what I take out, and you never see that I +usually bring a package in here from my place of business." + +As the wanderers trudged slowly along Park Row, the assassin began to +expand and grow blithe. "B'Gawd, we've been livin' like kings," he said, +smacking appreciative lips. + +"Look out, or we'll have t' pay fer it t'night," said the youth with +gloomy warning. + +But the assassin refused to turn his gaze toward the future. He went +with a limping step, into which he injected a suggestion of lamblike +gambols. His mouth was wreathed in a red grin. + +In the City Hall Park the two wanderers sat down in the little circle of +benches sanctified by traditions of their class. They huddled in their +old garments, slumbrously conscious of the march of the hours which for +them had no meaning. + +The people of the street hurrying hither and thither made a blend of +black figures changing yet frieze-like. They walked in their good +clothes as upon important missions, giving no gaze to the two wanderers +seated upon the benches. They expressed to the young man his infinite +distance from all that he valued. Social position, comfort, the +pleasures of living, were unconquerable kingdoms. He felt a sudden awe. + +And in the background a multitude of buildings, of pitiless hues and +sternly high, were to him emblematic of a nation forcing its regal head +into the clouds, throwing no downward glances; in the sublimity of its +aspirations ignoring the wretches who may flounder at its feet. The roar +of the city in his ear was to him the confusion of strange tongues, +babbling heedlessly; it was the clink of coin, the voice if the city's +hopes which were to him no hopes. + +He confessed himself an outcast, and his eyes from under the lowered rim +of his hat began to glance guiltily, wearing the criminal expression +that comes with certain convictions. + + + + +THE DUEL THAT WAS NOT FOUGHT + + +Patsy Tulligan was not as wise as seven owls, but his courage could +throw a shadow as long as the steeple of a cathedral. There were men on +Cherry Street who had whipped him five times, but they all knew that +Patsy would be as ready for the sixth time as if nothing had happened. + +Once he and two friends had been away up on Eighth Avenue, far out of +their country, and upon their return journey that evening they stopped +frequently in saloons until they were as independent of their +surroundings as eagles, and cared much less about thirty days on +Blackwell's. + +On Lower Sixth Avenue they paused in a saloon where there was a good +deal of lamp-glare and polished wood to be seen from the outside, and +within, the mellow light shone on much furbished brass and more polished +wood. It was a better saloon than they were in the habit of seeing, but +they did not mind it. They sat down at one of the little tables that +were in a row parallel to the bar and ordered beer. They blinked +stolidly at the decorations, the bartender, and the other customers. +When anything transpired they discussed it with dazzling frankness, and +what they said of it was as free as air to the other people in the +place. + +At midnight there were few people in the saloon. Patsy and his friends +still sat drinking. Two well-dressed men were at another table, smoking +cigars slowly and swinging back in their chairs. They occupied +themselves with themselves in the usual manner, never betraying by a +wink of an eyelid that they knew that other folk existed. At another +table directly behind Patsy and his companions was a slim little Cuban, +with miraculously small feet and hands, and with a youthful touch of +down upon his lip. As he lifted his cigarette from time to time his +little finger was bended in dainty fashion, and there was a green flash +when a huge emerald ring caught the light. The bartender came often with +his little brass tray. Occasionally Patsy and his two friends +quarrelled. + +Once this little Cuban happened to make some slight noise and Patsy +turned his head to observe him. Then Patsy made a careless and rather +loud comment to his two friends. He used a word which is no more than +passing the time of day down in Cherry Street, but to the Cuban it was a +dagger-point. There was a harsh scraping sound as a chair was pushed +swiftly back. + +The little Cuban was upon his feet. His eyes were shining with a rage +that flashed there like sparks as he glared at Patsy. His olive face had +turned a shade of grey from his anger. Withal his chest was thrust out +in portentous dignity, and his hand, still grasping his wine-glass, was +cool and steady, the little finger still bended, the great emerald +gleaming upon it. The others, motionless, stared at him. + +"Sir," he began ceremoniously. He spoke gravely and in a slow way, his +tone coming in a marvel of self-possessed cadences from between those +lips which quivered with wrath. "You have insult me. You are a dog, a +hound, a cur. I spit upon you. I must have some of your blood." + +Patsy looked at him over his shoulder. + +"What's th' matter wi' che?" he demanded. He did not quite understand +the words of this little man who glared at him steadily, but he knew +that it was something about fighting. He snarled with the readiness of +his class and heaved his shoulders contemptuously. "Ah, what's eatin' +yeh? Take a walk! You hain't got nothin' t' do with me, have yeh? Well, +den, go sit on yerself." + +And his companions leaned back valorously in their chairs, and +scrutinized this slim young fellow who was addressing Patsy. + +"What's de little Dago chewin' about?" + +"He wants t' scrap!" + +"What!" + +The Cuban listened with apparent composure. It was only when they +laughed that his body cringed as if he was receiving lashes. Presently +he put down his glass and walked over to their table. He proceeded +always with the most impressive deliberation. + +"Sir," he began again. "You have insult me. I must have s-s-satisfac- +shone. I must have your body upon the point of my sword. In my country +you would already be dead. I must have s-s-satisfac-shone." + +Patsy had looked at the Cuban with a trifle of bewilderment. But at last +his face began to grow dark with belligerency, his mouth curved in that +wide sneer with which he would confront an angel of darkness. He arose +suddenly in his seat and came towards the little Cuban. He was going to +be impressive too. + +"Say, young feller, if yeh go shootin' off yer face at me, I'll wipe d' +joint wid yeh. What'cher gaffin' about, hey? Are yeh givin' me er jolly? +Say, if yeh pick me up fer a cinch, I'll fool yeh. Dat's what! Don't +take me fer no dead easy mug." And as he glowered at the little Cuban, +he ended his oration with one eloquent word, "Nit!" + +The bartender nervously polished his bar with a towel, and kept his eyes +fastened upon the men. Occasionally he became transfixed with interest, +leaning forward with one hand upon the edge of the bar and the other +holding the towel grabbed in a lump, as if he had been turned into +bronze when in the very act of polishing. + +The Cuban did not move when Patsy came toward him and delivered his +oration. At its conclusion he turned his livid face toward where, above +him, Patsy was swaggering and heaving his shoulders in a consummate +display of bravery and readiness. The Cuban, in his clear, tense tones, +spoke one word. It was the bitter insult. It seemed fairly to spin from +his lips and crackle in the air like breaking glass. + +Every man save the little Cuban made an electric movement. Patsy roared +a black oath and thrust himself forward until he towered almost directly +above the other man. His fists were doubled into knots of bone and hard +flesh. The Cuban had raised a steady finger. + +"If you touch me wis your hand, I will keel you." + +The two well-dressed men had come swiftly, uttering protesting cries. +They suddenly intervened in this second of time in which Patsy had +sprung forward and the Cuban had uttered his threat. The four men were +now a tossing, arguing; violent group, one well-dressed man lecturing +the Cuban, and the other holding off Patsy, who was now wild with rage, +loudly repeating the Cuban's threat, and maneuvering and struggling to +get at him for revenge's sake. + +The bartender, feverishly scouring away with his towel, and at times +pacing to and fro with nervous and excited tread, shouted out-- + +"Say, for heaven's sake, don't fight in here. If yeh wanta fight, go out +in the street and fight all yeh please. But don't fight in here." + +Patsy knew one only thing, and this he kept repeating: + +"Well, he wants t' scrap! I didn't begin dis! He wants t' scrap." + +The well-dressed man confronting him continually replied-- + +"Oh, well, now, look here, he's only a lad. He don't know what he's +doing. He's crazy mad. You wouldn't slug a kid like that." + +Patsy and his aroused companions, who cursed and growled, were +persistent with their argument. "Well, he wants t' scrap!" The whole +affair was as plain as daylight when one saw this great fact. The +interference and intolerable discussion brought the three of them +forward, battleful and fierce. + +"What's eatin' you, anyhow?" they demanded. "Dis ain't your business, is +it? What business you got shootin' off your face?" + +The other peacemaker was trying to restrain the little Cuban, who had +grown shrill and violent. + +"If he touch me wis his hand I will keel him. We must fight like +gentlemen or else I keel him when he touch me wis his hand." + +The man who was fending off Patsy comprehended these sentences that were +screamed behind his back, and he explained to Patsy. + +"But he wants to fight you with swords. With swords, you know." + +The Cuban, dodging around the peacemakers, yelled in Patsy's face-- + +"Ah, if I could get you before me wis my sword! Ah! Ah! A-a-ah!" Patsy +made a furious blow with a swift fist, but the peacemakers bucked +against his body suddenly like football players. + +Patsy was greatly puzzled. He continued doggedly to try to get near +enough to the Cuban to punch him. To these attempts the Cuban replied +savagely-- + +"If you touch me wis your hand, I will cut your heart in two piece." + +At last Patsy said--"Well, if he's so dead stuck on fightin' wid swords, +I'll fight 'im. Soitenly! I'll fight 'im." All this palaver had +evidently tired him, and he now puffed out his lips with the air of a +man who is willing to submit to any conditions if he can only bring on +the row soon enough. He swaggered, "I'll fight 'im wid swords. Let 'im +bring on his swords, an' I'll fight 'im 'til he's ready t' quit." + +The two well-dressed men grinned. "Why, look here," they said to Patsy, +"he'd punch you full of holes. Why he's a fencer. You can't fight him +with swords. He'd kill you in 'bout a minute." + +"Well, I'll giv' 'im a go at it, anyhow," said Patsy, stouthearted and +resolute. "I'll giv' 'im a go at it, anyhow, an' I'll stay wid 'im as +long as I kin." + +As for the Cuban, his lithe body was quivering in an ecstasy of the +muscles. His face radiant with a savage joy, he fastened his glance upon +Patsy, his eyes gleaming with a gloating, murderous light. A most +unspeakable, animal-like rage was in his expression. + +"Ah! ah! He will fight me! Ah!" He bended unconsciously in the posture +of a fencer. He had all the quick, springy movements of a skilful +swordsman. "Ah, the b-r-r-rute! The b-r-r-rute! I will stick him like a +pig!" + +The two peacemakers, still grinning broadly, were having a great time +with Patsy. + +"Why, you infernal idiot, this man would slice you all up. You better +jump off the bridge if you want to commit suicide. You wouldn't stand a +ghost of a chance to live ten seconds." + +Patsy was as unshaken as granite. "Well, if he wants t' fight wid +swords, he'll get it. I'll giv' 'im a go at it, anyhow." + +One man said--"Well, have you got a sword? Do you know what a sword is? +Have you got a sword?" + +"No, I ain't got none," said Patsy honestly, "but I kin git one." Then +he added valiantly--"An' quick, too." + +The two men laughed. "Why, can't you understand it would be sure death +to fight a sword duel with this fellow?" + +"Dat's all right! See? I know me own business. If he wants t' fight one +of dees d--n duels, I'm in it, understan'" + +"Have you ever fought one, you fool?" + +"No, I ain't. But I will fight one, dough! I ain't no muff. If he wants +t' fight a duel, by Gawd, I'm wid 'im! D'yeh understan' dat!" Patsy +cocked his hat and swaggered. He was getting very serious. + +The little Cuban burst out--"Ah, come on, sirs: come on! We can take +cab. Ah, you big cow, I will stick you, I will stick you. Ah, you will +look very beautiful, very beautiful. Ah, come on, sirs. We will stop at +hotel--my hotel. I there have weapons." + +"Yeh will, will yeh? Yeh bloomin' little black Dago!" cried Patsy in +hoarse and maddened reply to the personal part of the Cuban's speech. He +stepped forward. "Git yer d--n swords," he commanded. "Git yer swords. +Git 'em quick! I'll fight wi' che! I'll fight wid anyt'ing, too! See? +I'll fight yeh wid a knife an' fork if yeh say so! I'll fight yer +standin' up er sittin' down!" Patsy delivered this intense oration with +sweeping, intensely emphatic gestures, his hands stretched out +eloquently, his jaw thrust forward, his eyes glaring. + +"Ah!" cried the little Cuban joyously. "Ah, you are in very pretty +temper. Ah, how I will cut your heart in two piece, my dear, d-e-a-r +friend." His eyes, too, shone like carbuncles, with a swift, changing +glitter, always fastened upon Patsy's face. + +The two peacemakers were perspiring and in despair. One of them blurted +out-- + +"Well, I'll be blamed if this ain't the most ridiculous thing I ever +saw." + +The other said--"For ten dollars I'd be tempted to let these two +infernal blockheads have their duel." + +Patsy was strutting to and fro, and conferring grandly with his friends. + +"He took me for a muff. He t'ought he was goin' t' bluff me out, talkin' +'bout swords. He'll get fooled." He addressed the Cuban--"You're a fine +little dirty picter of a scrapper, ain't che? I'll chew yez up, dat's +what I will!" + +There began then some rapid action. The patience of well-dressed men is +not an eternal thing. It began to look as if it would at last be a fight +with six corners to it. The faces of the men were shining red with +anger. They jostled each other defiantly, and almost every one blazed +out at three or four of the others. The bartender had given up +protesting. He swore for a time and banged his glasses. Then he jumped +the bar and ran out of the saloon, cursing sullenly. + +When he came back with a policeman, Patsy and the Cuban were preparing +to depart together. Patsy was delivering his last oration-- + +"I'll fight yer wid swords! Sure I will! Come ahead, Dago! I'll fight +yeh anywheres wid anyt'ing! We'll have a large, juicy scrap, an' don't +yeh forgit dat! I'm right wid yez. I ain't no muff! I scrap with a man +jest as soon as he ses scrap, an' if yeh wanta scrap, I'm yer kitten. +Understan' dat?" + +The policeman said sharply--"Come, now; what's all this?" He had a +distinctly business air. + +The little Cuban stepped forward calmly. "It is none of your business." + +The policeman flushed to his ears. "What?" + +One well-dressed man touched the other on the sleeve. "Here's the time +to skip," he whispered. They halted a block away from the saloon and +watched the policeman pull the Cuban through the door. There was a +minute of scuffle on the sidewalk, and into this deserted street at +midnight fifty people appeared at once as if from the sky to watch it. + +At last the three Cherry Hill men came from the saloon, and swaggered +with all their old valor toward the peacemakers. + +"Ah," said Patsy to them, "he was so hot talkin' about this duel +business, but I would a-given 'im a great scrap, an' don't yeh forgit +it." + +For Patsy was not as wise as seven owls, but his courage could throw a +shadow as long as the steeple of a cathedral. + + + + +A DESERTION + + +The yellow gaslight that came with an effect of difficulty through the +dust-stained windows on either side of the door gave strange hues to the +faces and forms of the three women who stood gabbling in the hallway of +the tenement. They made rapid gestures, and in the background their +enormous shadows mingled in terrific conflict. + +"Aye, she ain't so good as he thinks she is, I'll bet. He can watch over +'er an' take care of 'er all he pleases, but when she wants t' fool 'im, +she'll fool 'im. An' how does he know she ain't foolin' im' now?" + +"Oh, he thinks he's keepin' 'er from goin' t' th' bad, he does. Oh, yes. +He ses she's too purty t' let run round alone. Too purty! Huh! My +Sadie--" + +"Well, he keeps a clost watch on 'er, you bet. On'y las' week, she met +my boy Tim on th' stairs, an' Tim hadn't said two words to 'er b'fore +th' ol' man begin to holler. 'Dorter, dorter, come here, come here!'" + +At this moment a young girl entered from the street, and it was evident +from the injured expression suddenly assumed by the three gossipers that +she had been the object of their discussion. She passed them with a +slight nod, and they swung about into a row to stare after her. + +On her way up the long flights the girl unfastened her veil. One could +then clearly see the beauty of her eyes, but there was in them a certain +furtiveness that came near to marring the effects. It was a peculiar +fixture of gaze, brought from the street, as of one who there saw a +succession of passing dangers with menaces aligned at every corner. + +On the top floor, she pushed open a door and then paused on the +threshold, confronting an interior that appeared black and flat like a +curtain. Perhaps some girlish idea of hobgoblins assailed her then, for +she called in a little breathless voice, "Daddie!" + +There was no reply. The fire in the cooking-stove in the room crackled +at spasmodic intervals. One lid was misplaced, and the girl could now +see that this fact created a little flushed crescent upon the ceiling. +Also, a series of tiny windows in the stove caused patches of red upon +the floor. Otherwise, the room was heavily draped with shadows. + +The girl called again, "Daddie!" + +Yet there was no reply. + +"Oh, Daddie!" + +Presently she laughed as one familiar with the humors of an old man. +"Oh, I guess yer cussin' mad about yer supper, Dad," she said, and she +almost entered the room, but suddenly faltered, overcome by a feminine +instinct to fly from this black interior, peopled with imagined dangers. + +Again she called, "Daddie!" Her voice had an accent of appeal. It was as +if she knew she was foolish but yet felt obliged to insist upon being +reassured. "Oh, Daddie!" + +Of a sudden a cry of relief, a feminine announcement that the stars +still hung, burst from her. For, according to some mystic process, the +smoldering coals of the fire went aflame with sudden, fierce brilliance, +splashing parts of the walls, the floor, the crude furniture, with a hue +of blood-red. And in the light of this dramatic outburst of light, the +girl saw her father seated at a table with his back turned toward her. + +She entered the room, then, with an aggrieved air, her logic evidently +concluding that somebody was to blame for her nervous fright. "Oh, yer +on'y sulkin' 'bout yer supper. I thought mebbe ye'd gone somewheres." + +Her father made no reply. She went over to a shelf in the corner, and, +taking a little lamp, she lit it and put it where it would give her +light as she took off her hat and jacket in front of the tiny mirror. +Presently she began to bustle among the cooking utensils that were +crowded into the sink, and as she worked she rattled talk at her father, +apparently disdaining his mood. + +"I'd 'a' come home earlier t'night, Dad, on'y that fly foreman, he kep' +me in th' shop 'til half-past six. What a fool! He came t' me, yeh know, +an' he ses, 'Nell, I wanta give yeh some brotherly advice.' Oh, I know +him an' his brotherly advice. 'I wanta give yeh some brotherly advice. +Yer too purty, Nell,' he ses, 't' be workin' in this shop an' paradin' +through the streets alone, without somebody t' give yeh good brotherly +advice, an' I wanta warn yeh, Nell. I'm a bad man, but I ain't as bad as +some, an' I wanta warn yeh.' 'Oh, g'long 'bout yer business,' I ses. I +know 'im. He's like all of 'em, on'y he's a little slyer. I know 'im. +'You g'long 'bout yer business,' I ses. Well, he ses after a while that +he guessed some evenin' he'd come up an' see me. 'Oh, yeh will,' I ses, +'yeh will? Well, you jest let my ol' man ketch yeh comin' foolin' 'round +our place. Yeh'll wish yeh went t' some other girl t' give brotherly +advice.' 'What th' 'ell do I care fer yer father?' he ses. 'What's he t' +me?' 'If he throws yeh downstairs, yeh'll care for 'im,' I ses. 'Well,' +he ses, 'I'll come when 'e ain't in, b' Gawd, I'll come when 'e ain't +in.' 'Oh, he's allus in when it means takin' care 'o me,' I ses. 'Don't +yeh fergit it, either. When it comes t' takin' care o' his dorter, he's +right on deck every single possible time.'" + +After a time, she turned and addressed cheery words to the old man. +"Hurry up th' fire, Daddie! We'll have supper pretty soon." + +But still her father was silent, and his form in its sullen posture was +motionless. + +At this, the girl seemed to see the need of the inauguration of a +feminine war against a man out of temper. She approached him breathing +soft, coaxing syllables. + +"Daddie! Oh, Daddie! O--o--oh, Daddie!" + +It was apparent from a subtle quality of valor in her tones that this +manner of onslaught upon his moods had usually been successful, but to- +night it had no quick effect. The words, coming from her lips, were like +the refrain of an old ballad, but the man remained stolid. + +"Daddie! My Daddie! Oh, Daddie, are yeh mad at me, really--truly mad at +me!" + +She touched him lightly upon the arm. Should he have turned then he +would have seen the fresh, laughing face, with dew-sparkling eyes, close +to his own. + +"Oh, Daddie! My Daddie! Pretty Daddie!" + +She stole her arm about his neck, and then slowly bended her face toward +his. It was the action of a queen who knows that she reigns +notwithstanding irritations, trials, tempests. + +But suddenly, from this position, she leaped backward with the mad +energy of a frightened colt. Her face was in this instant turned to a +grey, featureless thing of horror. A yell, wild and hoarse as a brute- +cry, burst from her. "Daddie!" She flung herself to a place near the +door, where she remained, crouching, her eyes staring at the motionless +figure, spattered by the quivering flashes from the fire. Her arms +extended, and her frantic fingers at once besought and repelled. There +was in them an expression of eagerness to caress and an expression of +the most intense loathing. And the girl's hair that had been a splendor, +was in these moments changed to a disordered mass that hung and swayed +in witchlike fashion. + +Again, a terrible cry burst from her. It was more than the shriek of +agony--it was directed, personal, addressed to him in the chair, the +first word of a tragic conversation with the dead. + +It seemed that when she had put her arm about its neck, she had jostled +the corpse in such a way that now she and it were face to face. The +attitude expressed an intention of arising from the table. The eyes, +fixed upon hers, were filled with an unspeakable hatred. + + * * * * * + +The cries of the girl aroused thunders in the tenement. There was a loud +slamming of doors, and presently there was a roar of feet upon the +boards of the stairway. Voices rang out sharply. + +"What is it?" + +"What's th' matter?" + +"He's killin' her!" + +"Slug 'im with anythin' yeh kin lay hold of, Jack!" + +But over all this came the shrill, shrewish tones of a woman. "Ah, th' +damned ol' fool, he's drivin' 'er inteh th' street--that's what he's +doin'. He's drivin' 'er inteh th' street." + + + + +A DARK-BROWN DOG + + +A child was standing on a street-corner. He leaned with one shoulder +against a high board fence and swayed the other to and fro, the while +kicking carelessly at the gravel. + +Sunshine beat upon the cobbles, and a lazy summer wind raised yellow +dust which trailed in clouds down the avenue. Clattering trucks moved +with indistinctness through it. The child stood dreamily gazing. + +After a time, a little dark-brown dog came trotting with an intent air +down the sidewalk. A short rope was dragging from his neck. Occasionally +he trod upon the end of it and stumbled. + +He stopped opposite the child, and the two regarded each other. The dog +hesitated for a moment, but presently he made some little advances with +his tail. The child put out his hand and called him. In an apologetic +manner the dog came close, and the two had an interchange of friendly +pattings and waggles. The dog became more enthusiastic with each moment +of the interview, until with his gleeful caperings he threatened to +overturn the child. Whereupon the child lifted his hand and struck the +dog a blow upon the head. + +This thing seemed to overpower and astonish the little dark-brown dog, +and wounded him to the heart. He sank down in despair at the child's +feet. When the blow was repeated, together with an admonition in +childish sentences, he turned over upon his back, and held his paws in a +peculiar manner. At the same time with his ears and his eyes he offered +a small prayer to the child. + +He looked so comical on his back, and holding his paws peculiarly, that +the child was greatly amused and gave him little taps repeatedly, to +keep him so. But the little dark-brown dog took this chastisement in the +most serious way and no doubt considered that he had committed some +grave crime, for he wriggled contritely and showed his repentance in +every way that was in his power. He pleaded with the child and +petitioned him, and offered more prayers. + +At last the child grew weary of this amusement and turned toward home. +The dog was praying at the time. He lay on his back and turned his eyes +upon the retreating form. + +Presently he struggled to his feet and started after the child. The +latter wandered in a perfunctory way toward his home, stopping at times +to investigate various matters. During one of these pauses he discovered +the little dark-brown dog who was following him with the air of a +footpad. + +The child beat his pursuer with a small stick he had found. The dog lay +down and prayed until the child had finished, and resumed his journey. +Then he scrambled erect and took up the pursuit again. + +On the way to his home the child turned many times and beat the dog, +proclaiming with childish gestures that he held him in contempt as an +unimportant dog, with no value save for a moment. For being this quality +of animal the dog apologized and eloquently expressed regret, but he +continued stealthily to follow the child. His manner grew so very guilty +that he slunk like an assassin. + +When the child reached his doorstep, the dog was industriously ambling a +few yards in the rear. He became so agitated with shame when he again +confronted the child that he forgot the dragging rope. He tripped upon +it and fell forward. + +The child sat down on the step and the two had another interview. During +it the dog greatly exerted himself to please the child. He performed a +few gambols with such abandon that the child suddenly saw him to be a +valuable thing. He made a swift, avaricious charge and seized the rope. + +He dragged his captive into a hall and up many long stairways in a dark +tenement. The dog made willing efforts, but he could not hobble very +skilfully up the stairs because he was very small and soft, and at last +the pace of the engrossed child grew so energetic that the dog became +panic-stricken. In his mind he was being dragged toward a grim unknown. +His eyes grew wild with the terror of it. He began to wiggle his head +frantically and to brace his legs. + +The child redoubled his exertions. They had a battle on the stairs. The +child was victorious because he was completely absorbed in his purpose, +and because the dog was very small. He dragged his acquirement to the +door of his home, and finally with triumph across the threshold. + +No one was in. The child sat down on the floor and made overtures to the +dog. These the dog instantly accepted. He beamed with affection upon his +new friend. In a short time they were firm and abiding comrades. + +When the child's family appeared, they made a great row. The dog was +examined and commented upon and called names. Scorn was leveled at him +from all eyes, so that he became much embarrassed and drooped like a +scorched plant. But the child went sturdily to the center of the floor, +and, at the top of his voice, championed the dog. It happened that he +was roaring protestations, with his arms clasped about the dog's neck, +when the father of the family came in from work. + +The parent demanded to know what the blazes they were making the kid +howl for. It was explained in many words that the infernal kid wanted to +introduce a disreputable dog into the family. + +A family council was held. On this depended the dog's fate, but he in no +way heeded, being busily engaged in chewing the end of the child's +dress. + +The affair was quickly ended. The father of the family, it appears, was +in a particularly savage temper that evening, and when he perceived that +it would amaze and anger everybody if such a dog were allowed to remain, +he decided that it should be so. The child, crying softly, took his +friend off to a retired part of the room to hobnob with him, while the +father quelled a fierce rebellion of his wife. So it came to pass that +the dog was a member of the household. + +He and the child were associated together at all times save when the +child slept. The child became a guardian and a friend. If the large folk +kicked the dog and threw things at him, the child made loud and violent +objections. Once when the child had run, protesting loudly, with tears +raining down his face and his arms outstretched, to protect his friend, +he had been struck in the head with a very large saucepan from the hand +of his father, enraged at some seeming lack of courtesy in the dog. Ever +after, the family were careful how they threw things at the dog. +Moreover, the latter grew very skilful in avoiding missiles and feet. In +a small room containing a stove, a table, a bureau and some chairs, he +would display strategic ability of a high order, dodging, feinting and +scuttling about among the furniture. He could force three or four people +armed with brooms, sticks and handfuls of coal, to use all their +ingenuity to get in a blow. And even when they did, it was seldom that +they could do him a serious injury or leave any imprint. + +But when the child was present these scenes did not occur. It came to be +recognized that if the dog was molested, the child would burst into +sobs, and as the child, when started, was very riotous and practically +unquenchable, the dog had therein a safeguard. + +However, the child could not always be near. At night, when he was +asleep, his dark-brown friend would raise from some black corner a wild, +wailful cry, a song of infinite loneliness and despair, that would go +shuddering and sobbing among the buildings of the block and cause people +to swear. At these times the singer would often be chased all over the +kitchen and hit with a great variety of articles. + +Sometimes, too, the child himself used to beat the dog, although it is +not known that he ever had what truly could be called a just cause. The +dog always accepted these thrashings with an air of admitted guilt. He +was too much of a dog to try to look to be a martyr or to plot revenge. +He received the blows with deep humility, and furthermore he forgave his +friend the moment the child had finished, and was ready to caress the +child's hand with his little red tongue. + +When misfortune came upon the child, and his troubles overwhelmed him, +he would often crawl under the table and lay his small distressed head +on the dog's back. The dog was ever sympathetic. It is not to be +supposed that at such times he took occasion to refer to the unjust +beatings his friend, when provoked, had administered to him. + +He did not achieve any notable degree of intimacy with the other members +of the family. He had no confidence in them, and the fear that he would +express at their casual approach often exasperated them exceedingly. +They used to gain a certain satisfaction in underfeeding him, but +finally his friend the child grew to watch the matter with some care, +and when he forgot it, the dog was often successful in secret for +himself. + +So the dog prospered. He developed a large bark, which came wondrously +from such a small rug of a dog. He ceased to howl persistently at night. +Sometimes, indeed, in his sleep, he would utter little yells, as from +pain, but that occurred, no doubt, when in his dreams he encountered +huge flaming dogs who threatened him direfully. + +His devotion to the child grew until it was a sublime thing. He wagged +at his approach; he sank down in despair at his departure. He could +detect the sound of the child's step among all the noises of the +neighborhood. It was like a calling voice to him. + +The scene of their companionship was a kingdom governed by this terrible +potentate, the child; but neither criticism nor rebellion ever lived for +an instant in the heart of the one subject. Down in the mystic, hidden +fields of his little dog-soul bloomed flowers of love and fidelity and +perfect faith. + +The child was in the habit of going on many expeditions to observe +strange things in the vicinity. On these occasions his friend usually +jogged aimfully along behind. Perhaps, though, he went ahead. This +necessitated his turning around every quarter-minute to make sure the +child was coming. He was filled with a large idea of the importance of +these journeys. He would carry himself with such an air! He was proud to +be the retainer of so great a monarch. + +One day, however, the father of the family got quite exceptionally +drunk. He came home and held carnival with the cooking utensils, the +furniture and his wife. He was in the midst of this recreation when the +child, followed by the dark-brown dog, entered the room. They were +returning from their voyages. + +The child's practised eye instantly noted his father's state. He dived +under the table, where experience had taught him was a rather safe +place. The dog, lacking skill in such matters, was, of course, unaware +of the true condition of affairs. He looked with interested eyes at his +friend's sudden dive. He interpreted it to mean: Joyous gambol. He +started to patter across the floor to join him. He was the picture of a +little dark-brown dog en route to a friend. + +The head of the family saw him at this moment. He gave a huge howl of +joy, and knocked the dog down with a heavy coffee-pot. The dog, yelling +in supreme astonishment and fear, writhed to his feet and ran for cover. +The man kicked out with a ponderous foot. It caused the dog to swerve as +if caught in a tide. A second blow of the coffee-pot laid him upon the +floor. + +Here the child, uttering loud cries, came valiantly forth like a knight. +The father of the family paid no attention to these calls of the child, +but advanced with glee upon the dog. Upon being knocked down twice in +swift succession, the latter apparently gave up all hope of escape. He +rolled over on his back and held his paws in a peculiar manner. At the +same time with his eyes and his ears he offered up a small prayer. + +But the father was in a mood for having fun, and it occurred to him that +it would be a fine thing to throw the dog out of the window. So he +reached down and, grabbing the animal by a leg, lifted him, squirming, +up. He swung him two or three times hilariously about his head, and then +flung him with great accuracy through the window. + +The soaring dog created a surprise in the block. A woman watering plants +in an opposite window gave an involuntary shout and dropped a flower- +pot. A man in another window leaned perilously out to watch the flight +of the dog. A woman who had been hanging out clothes in a yard began to +caper wildly. Her mouth was filled with clothes-pins, but her arms gave +vent to a sort of exclamation. In appearance she was like a gagged +prisoner. Children ran whooping. + +The dark-brown body crashed in a heap on the roof of a shed five stories +below. From thence it rolled to the pavement of an alleyway. + +The child in the room far above burst into a long, dirge-like cry, and +toddled hastily out of the room. It took him a long time to reach the +alley, because his size compelled him to go downstairs backward, one +step at a time, and holding with both hands to the step above. + +When they came for him later, they found him seated by the body of his +dark-brown friend. + + + + +THE PACE OF YOUTH + + +I + +Stimson stood in a corner and glowered. He was a fierce man and had +indomitable whiskers, albeit he was very small. + +"That young tarrier," he whispered to himself. "He wants to quit makin' +eyes at Lizzie. This is too much of a good thing. First thing you know, +he'll get fired." + +His brow creased in a frown, he strode over to the huge open doors and +looked at a sign. "Stimson's Mammoth Merry-Go-Round," it read, and the +glory of it was great. Stimson stood and contemplated the sign. It was +an enormous affair; the letters were as large as men. The glow of it, +the grandeur of it was very apparent to Stimson. At the end of his +contemplation, he shook his head thoughtfully, determinedly. "No, no," +he muttered. "This is too much of a good thing. First thing you know, +he'll get fired." + +A soft booming sound of surf, mingled with the cries of bathers, came +from the beach. There was a vista of sand and sky and sea that drew to a +mystic point far away in the northward. In the mighty angle, a girl in a +red dress was crawling slowly like some kind of a spider on the fabric +of nature. A few flags hung lazily above where the bathhouses were +marshalled in compact squares. Upon the edge of the sea stood a ship +with its shadowy sails painted dimly upon the sky, and high overhead in +the still, sun-shot air a great hawk swung and drifted slowly. + +Within the Merry-Go-Round there was a whirling circle of ornamental +lions, giraffes, camels, ponies, goats, glittering with varnish and +metal that caught swift reflections from windows high above them. With +stiff wooden legs, they swept on in a never-ending race, while a great +orchestrion clamored in wild speed. The summer sunlight sprinkled its +gold upon the garnet canopies carried by the tireless racers and upon +all the devices of decoration that made Stimson's machine magnificent +and famous. A host of laughing children bestrode the animals, bending +forward like charging cavalrymen, and shaking reins and whooping in +glee. At intervals they leaned out perilously to clutch at iron rings +that were tendered to them by a long wooden arm. At the intense moment +before the swift grab for the rings one could see their little nervous +bodies quiver with eagerness; the laughter rang shrill and excited. Down +in the long rows of benches, crowds of people sat watching the game, +while occasionally a father might arise and go near to shout +encouragement, cautionary commands, or applause at his flying offspring. +Frequently mothers called out: "Be careful, Georgie!" The orchestrion +bellowed and thundered on its platform, filling the ears with its long +monotonous song. Over in a corner, a man in a white apron and behind a +counter roared above the tumult: "Popcorn! Popcorn!" + +A young man stood upon a small, raised platform, erected in a manner of +a pulpit, and just without the line of the circling figures. It was his +duty to manipulate the wooden arm and affix the rings. When all were +gone into the hands of the triumphant children, he held forth a basket, +into which they returned all save the coveted brass one, which meant +another ride free and made the holder very illustrious. The young man +stood all day upon his narrow platform, affixing rings or holding forth +the basket. He was a sort of general squire in these lists of childhood. +He was very busy. + +And yet Stimson, the astute, had noticed that the young man frequently +found time to twist about on his platform and smile at a girl who shyly +sold tickets behind a silvered netting. This, indeed, was the great +reason of Stimson's glowering. The young man upon the raised platform +had no manner of license to smile at the girl behind the silvered +netting. It was a most gigantic insolence. Stimson was amazed at it. "By +Jiminy," he said to himself again, "that fellow is smiling at my +daughter." Even in this tone of great wrath it could be discerned that +Stimson was filled with wonder that any youth should dare smile at the +daughter in the presence of the august father. + +Often the dark-eyed girl peered between the shining wires, and, upon +being detected by the young man, she usually turned her head quickly to +prove to him that she was not interested. At other times, however, her +eyes seemed filled with a tender fear lest he should fall from that +exceedingly dangerous platform. As for the young man, it was plain that +these glances filled him with valor, and he stood carelessly upon his +perch, as if he deemed it of no consequence that he might fall from it. +In all the complexities of his daily life and duties he found +opportunity to gaze ardently at the vision behind the netting. + +This silent courtship was conducted over the heads of the crowd who +thronged about the bright machine. The swift eloquent glances of the +young man went noiselessly and unseen with their message. There had +finally become established between the two in this manner a subtle +understanding and companionship. They communicated accurately all that +they felt. The boy told his love, his reverence, his hope in the changes +of the future. The girl told him that she loved him, and she did not +love him, that she did not know if she loved him. Sometimes a little +sign, saying "cashier" in gold letters, and hanging upon the silvered +netting, got directly in range and interfered with the tender message. + +The love affair had not continued without anger, unhappiness, despair. +The girl had once smiled brightly upon a youth who came to buy some +tickets for his little sister, and the young man upon the platform, +observing this smile, had been filled with gloomy rage. He stood like a +dark statue of vengeance upon his pedestal and thrust out the basket to +the children with a gesture that was full of scorn for their hollow +happiness, for their insecure and temporary joy. For five hours he did +not once look at the girl when she was looking at him. He was going to +crush her with his indifference; he was going to demonstrate that he had +never been serious. However, when he narrowly observed her in secret he +discovered that she seemed more blythe than was usual with her. When he +found that his apparent indifference had not crushed her he suffered +greatly. She did not love him, he concluded. If she had loved him she +would have been crushed. For two days he lived a miserable existence +upon his high perch. He consoled himself by thinking of how unhappy he +was, and by swift, furtive glances at the loved face. At any rate he was +in her presence, and he could get a good view from his perch when there +was no interference by the little sign: "Cashier." + +But suddenly, swiftly, these clouds vanished, and under the imperial +blue sky of the restored confidence they dwelt in peace, a peace that +was satisfaction, a peace that, like a babe, put its trust in the +treachery of the future. This confidence endured until the next day, +when she, for an unknown cause, suddenly refused to look at him. +Mechanically he continued his task, his brain dazed, a tortured victim +of doubt, fear, suspicion. With his eyes he supplicated her to telegraph +an explanation. She replied with a stony glance that froze his blood. +There was a great difference in their respective reasons for becoming +angry. His were always foolish, but apparent, plain as the moon. Hers +were subtle, feminine, as incomprehensible as the stars, as mysterious +as the shadows at night. + +They fell and soared and soared and fell in this manner until they knew +that to live without each other would be a wandering in deserts. They +had grown so intent upon the uncertainties, the variations, the +guessings of their affair that the world had become but a huge +immaterial background. In time of peace their smiles were soft and +prayerful, caresses confided to the air. In time of war, their youthful +hearts, capable of profound agony, were wrung by the intricate emotions +of doubt. They were the victims of the dread angel of affectionate +speculation that forces the brain endlessly on roads that lead nowhere. + +At night, the problem of whether she loved him confronted the young man +like a spectre, looming as high as a hill and telling him not to delude +himself. Upon the following day, this battle of the night displayed +itself in the renewed fervor of his glances and in their increased +number. Whenever he thought he could detect that she too was suffering, +he felt a thrill of joy. + +But there came a time when the young man looked back upon these +contortions with contempt. He believed then that he had imagined his +pain. This came about when the redoubtable Stimson marched forward to +participate. + +"This has got to stop," Stimson had said to himself, as he stood and +watched them. They had grown careless of the light world that clattered +about them; they were become so engrossed in their personal drama that +the language of their eyes was almost as obvious as gestures. And +Stimson, through his keenness, his wonderful, infallible penetration, +suddenly came into possession of these obvious facts. "Well, of all the +nerves," he said, regarding with a new interest the young man upon the +perch. + +He was a resolute man. He never hesitated to grapple with a crisis. He +decided to overturn everything at once, for, although small, he was very +fierce and impetuous. He resolved to crush this dreaming. + +He strode over to the silvered netting. "Say, you want to quit your +everlasting grinning at that idiot," he said, grimly. + +The girl cast down her eyes and made a little heap of quarters into a +stack. She was unable to withstand the terrible scrutiny of her small +and fierce father. + +Stimson turned from his daughter and went to a spot beneath the +platform. He fixed his eyes upon the young man and said-- + +"I've been speakin' to Lizzie. You better attend strictly to your own +business or there'll be a new man here next week." It was as if he had +blazed away with a shotgun. The young man reeled upon his perch. At last +he in a measure regained his composure and managed to stammer: "A--all +right, sir." He knew that denials would be futile with the terrible +Stimson. He agitatedly began to rattle the rings in the basket, and +pretend that he was obliged to count them or inspect them in some way. +He, too, was unable to face the great Stimson. + +For a moment, Stimson stood in fine satisfaction and gloated over the +effect of his threat. + +"I've fixed them," he said complacently, and went out to smoke a cigar +and revel in himself. Through his mind went the proud reflection that +people who came in contact with his granite will usually ended in quick +and abject submission. + + +II + +One evening, a week after Stimson had indulged in the proud reflection +that people who came in contact with his granite will usually ended in +quick and abject submission, a young feminine friend of the girl behind +the silvered netting came to her there and asked her to walk on the +beach after "Stimson's Mammoth Merry-Go-Round" was closed for the night. +The girl assented with a nod. + +The young man upon the perch holding the rings saw this nod and judged +its meaning. Into his mind came an idea of defeating the watchfulness of +the redoubtable Stimson. When the Merry-Go-Round was closed and the two +girls started for the beach, he wandered off aimlessly in another +direction, but he kept them in view, and as soon as he was assured that +he had escaped the vigilance of Stimson, he followed them. + +The electric lights on the beach made a broad band of tremoring light, +extending parallel to the sea, and upon the wide walk there slowly +paraded a great crowd, intermingling, intertwining, sometimes colliding. +In the darkness stretched the vast purple expanse of the ocean, and the +deep indigo sky above was peopled with yellow stars. Occasionally out +upon the water a whirling mass of froth suddenly flashed into view, like +a great ghostly robe appearing, and then vanished, leaving the sea in +its darkness, whence came those bass tones of the water's unknown +emotion. A wind, cool, reminiscent of the wave wastes, made the women +hold their wraps about their throats, and caused the men to grip the +rims of their straw hats. It carried the noise of the band in the +pavilion in gusts. Sometimes people unable to hear the music glanced up +at the pavilion and were reassured upon beholding the distant leader +still gesticulating and bobbing, and the other members of the band with +their lips glued to their instruments. High in the sky soared an +unassuming moon, faintly silver. + +For a time the young man was afraid to approach the two girls; he +followed them at a distance and called himself a coward. At last, +however, he saw them stop on the outer edge of the crowd and stand +silently listening to the voices of the sea. When he came to where they +stood, he was trembling in his agitation. They had not seen him. + +"Lizzie," he began. "I----" + +The girl wheeled instantly and put her hand to her throat. + +"Oh, Frank, how you frightened me," she said--inevitably. + +"Well, you know, I--I----" he stuttered. + +But the other girl was one of those beings who are born to attend at +tragedies. She had for love a reverence, an admiration that was greater +the more that she contemplated the fact that she knew nothing of it. +This couple, with their emotions, awed her and made her humbly wish that +she might be destined to be of some service to them. She was very +homely. + +When the young man faltered before them, she, in her sympathy, actually +over-estimated the crisis, and felt that he might fall dying at their +feet. Shyly, but with courage, she marched to the rescue. + +"Won't you come and walk on the beach with us?" she said. + +The young man gave her a glance of deep gratitude which was not without +the patronage which a man in his condition naturally feels for one who +pities it. The three walked on. + +Finally, the being who was born to attend at this tragedy said that she +wished to sit down and gaze at the sea, alone. + +They politely urged her to walk on with them, but she was obstinate. She +wished to gaze at the sea, alone. The young man swore to himself that he +would be her friend until he died. + +And so the two young lovers went on without her. They turned once to +look at her. + +"Jennie's awful nice," said the girl. + +"You bet she is," replied the young man, ardently. + +They were silent for a little time. + +At last the girl said-- + +"You were angry at me yesterday." + +"No, I wasn't." + +"Yes, you were, too. You wouldn't look at me once all day." + +"No, I wasn't angry. I was only putting on." + +Though she had, of course, known it, this confession seemed to make her +very indignant. She flashed a resentful glance at him. + +"Oh, you were, indeed?" she said with a great air. + +For a few minutes she was so haughty with him that he loved her to +madness. And directly this poem, which stuck at his lips, came forth +lamely in fragments. + +When they walked back toward the other girl and saw the patience of her +attitude, their hearts swelled in a patronizing and secondary tenderness +for her. + +They were very happy. If they had been miserable they would have charged +this fairy scene of the night with a criminal heartlessness; but as they +were joyous, they vaguely wondered how the purple sea, the yellow stars, +the changing crowds under the electric lights could be so phlegmatic and +stolid. + +They walked home by the lakeside way, and out upon the water those gay +paper lanterns, flashing, fleeting, and careering, sang to them, sang a +chorus of red and violet, and green and gold; a song of mystic bands of +the future. + +One day, when business paused during a dull sultry afternoon, Stimson +went up town. Upon his return, he found that the popcorn man, from his +stand over in a corner, was keeping an eye upon the cashier's cage, and +that nobody at all was attending to the wooden arm and the iron rings. +He strode forward like a sergeant of grenadiers. + +"Where in thunder is Lizzie?" he demanded, a cloud of rage in his eyes. + +The popcorn man, although associated long with Stimson, had never got +over being dazed. + +"They've--they've--gone round to th'--th'--house," he said with +difficulty, as if he had just been stunned. + +"Whose house?" snapped Stimson. + +"Your--your house, I s'pose," said the popcorn man. + +Stimson marched round to his home. Kingly denunciations surged, already +formulated, to the tip of his tongue, and he bided the moment when his +anger could fall upon the heads of that pair of children. He found his +wife convulsive and in tears. + +"Where's Lizzie?" + +And then she burst forth--"Oh--John--John--they've run away, I know they +have. They drove by here not three minutes ago. They must have done it +on purpose to bid me good-bye, for Lizzie waved her hand sadlike; and +then, before I could get out to ask where they were going or what, Frank +whipped up the horse." + +Stimson gave vent to a dreadful roar. + +"Get my revolver--get a hack--get my revolver, do you hear--what the +devil--" His voice became incoherent. + +He had always ordered his wife about as if she were a battalion of +infantry, and despite her misery, the training of years forced her to +spring mechanically to obey; but suddenly she turned to him with a +shrill appeal. + +"Oh, John--not--the--revolver." + +"Confound it, let go of me!" he roared again, and shook her from him. + +He ran hatless upon the street. There were a multitude of hacks at the +summer resort, but it was ages to him before he could find one. Then he +charged it like a bull. + +"Uptown!" he yelled, as he tumbled into the rear seat. + +The hackman thought of severed arteries. His galloping horse distanced a +large number of citizens who had been running to find what caused such +contortions by the little hatless man. + +It chanced as the bouncing hack went along near the lake, Stimson gazed +across the calm grey expanse and recognized a color in a bonnet and a +pose of a head. A buggy was traveling along a highway that led to +Sorington. Stimson bellowed--"There--there--there they are--in that +buggy." + +The hackman became inspired with the full knowledge of the situation. He +struck a delirious blow with the whip. His mouth expanded in a grin of +excitement and joy. It came to pass that this old vehicle, with its +drowsy horse and its dusty-eyed and tranquil driver, seemed suddenly to +awaken, to become animated and fleet. The horse ceased to ruminate on +his state, his air of reflection vanished. He became intent upon his +aged legs and spread them in quaint and ridiculous devices for speed. +The driver, his eyes shining, sat critically in his seat. He watched +each motion of this rattling machine down before him. He resembled an +engineer. He used the whip with judgment and deliberation as the +engineer would have used coal or oil. The horse clacked swiftly upon the +macadam, the wheels hummed, the body of the vehicle wheezed and groaned. + +Stimson, in the rear seat, was erect in that impassive attitude that +comes sometimes to the furious man when he is obliged to leave the +battle to others. Frequently, however, the tempest in his breast came to +his face and he howled-- + +"Go it--go it--you're gaining; pound 'im! Thump the life out of 'im; hit +'im hard, you fool!" His hand grasped the rod that supported the +carriage top, and it was clenched so that the nails were faintly blue. + +Ahead, that other carriage had been flying with speed, as from +realization of the menace in the rear. It bowled away rapidly, drawn by +the eager spirit of a young and modern horse. Stimson could see the +buggy-top bobbing, bobbing. That little pane, like an eye, was a +derision to him. Once he leaned forward and bawled angry sentences. He +began to feel impotent; his whole expedition was a tottering of an old +man upon a trail of birds. A sense of age made him choke again with +wrath. That other vehicle, that was youth, with youth's pace; it was +swift-flying with the hope of dreams. He began to comprehend those two +children ahead of him, and he knew a sudden and strange awe, because he +understood the power of their young blood, the power to fly strongly +into the future and feel and hope again, even at that time when his +bones must be laid in the earth. The dust rose easily from the hot road +and stifled the nostrils of Stimson. + +The highway vanished far away in a point with a suggestion of +intolerable length. The other vehicle was becoming so small that Stimson +could no longer see the derisive eye. + +At last the hackman drew rein to his horse and turned to look at +Stimson. + +"No use, I guess," he said. + +Stimson made a gesture of acquiescence, rage, despair. As the hackman +turned his dripping horse about, Stimson sank back with the astonishment +and grief of a man who has been defied by the universe. He had been in a +great perspiration, and now his bald head felt cool and uncomfortable. +He put up his hand with a sudden recollection that he had forgotten his +hat. + +At last he made a gesture. It meant that at any rate he was not +responsible. + + + + +A TENT IN AGONY + + +A SULLIVAN COUNTY TALE + +Four men once came to a wet place in the roadless forest to fish. They +pitched their tent fair upon the brow of a pine-clothed ridge of riven +rocks whence a bowlder could be made to crash through the brush and +whirl past the trees to the lake below. On fragrant hemlock boughs they +slept the sleep of unsuccessful fishermen, for upon the lake alternately +the sun made them lazy and the rain made them wet. Finally they ate the +last bit of bacon and smoked and burned the last fearful and wonderful +hoecake. + +Immediately a little man volunteered to stay and hold the camp while the +remaining three should go the Sullivan county miles to a farmhouse for +supplies. They gazed at him dismally. "There's only one of you--the +devil make a twin," they said in parting malediction, and disappeared +down the hill in the known direction of a distant cabin. When it came +night and the hemlocks began to sob they had not returned. The little +man sat close to his companion, the campfire, and encouraged it with +logs. He puffed fiercely at a heavy built brier, and regarded a thousand +shadows which were about to assault him. Suddenly he heard the approach +of the unknown, crackling the twigs and rustling the dead leaves. The +little man arose slowly to his feet, his clothes refused to fit his +back, his pipe dropped from his mouth, his knees smote each other. +"Hah!" he bellowed hoarsely in menace. A growl replied and a bear paced +into the light of the fire. The little man supported himself upon a +sapling and regarded his visitor. + +The bear was evidently a veteran and a fighter, for the black of his +coat had become tawny with age. There was confidence in his gait and +arrogance in his small, twinkling eye. He rolled back his lips and +disclosed his white teeth. The fire magnified the red of his mouth. The +little man had never before confronted the terrible and he could not +wrest it from his breast. "Hah!" he roared. The bear interpreted this as +the challenge of a gladiator. He approached warily. As he came near, the +boots of fear were suddenly upon the little man's feet. He cried out and +then darted around the campfire. "Ho!" said the bear to himself, "this +thing won't fight--it runs. Well, suppose I catch it." So upon his +features there fixed the animal look of going--somewhere. He started +intensely around the campfire. The little man shrieked and ran +furiously. Twice around they went. + +The hand of heaven sometimes falls heavily upon the righteous. The bear +gained. + +In desperation the little man flew into the tent. The bear stopped and +sniffed at the entrance. He scented the scent of many men. Finally he +ventured in. + +The little man crouched in a distant corner. The bear advanced, +creeping, his blood burning, his hair erect, his jowls dripping. The +little man yelled and rustled clumsily under the flap at the end of the +tent. The bear snarled awfully and made a jump and a grab at his +disappearing game. The little man, now without the tent, felt a +tremendous paw grab his coat tails. He squirmed and wriggled out of his +coat like a schoolboy in the hands of an avenger. The bear bowled +triumphantly and jerked the coat into the tent and took two bites, a +punch and a hug before he, discovered his man was not in it. Then he +grew not very angry, for a bear on a spree is not a black-haired pirate. +He is merely a hoodlum. He lay down on his back, took the coat on his +four paws and began to play uproariously with it. The most appalling, +blood-curdling whoops and yells came to where the little man was crying +in a treetop and froze his blood. He moaned a little speech meant for a +prayer and clung convulsively to the bending branches. He gazed with +tearful wistfulness at where his comrade, the campfire, was giving dying +flickers and crackles. Finally, there was a roar from the tent which +eclipsed all roars; a snarl which it seemed would shake the stolid +silence of the mountain and cause it to shrug its granite shoulders. The +little man quaked and shrivelled to a grip and a pair of eyes. In the +glow of the embers he saw the white tent quiver and fall with a crash. +The bear's merry play had disturbed the center pole and brought a chaos +of canvas upon his head. + +Now the little man became the witness of a mighty scene. The tent began +to flounder. It took flopping strides in the direction of the lake. +Marvellous sounds came from within--rips and tears, and great groans and +pants. The little man went into giggling hysterics. + +The entangled monster failed to extricate himself before he had walloped +the tent frenziedly to the edge of the mountain. So it came to pass that +three men, clambering up the hill with bundles and baskets, saw their +tent approaching. It seemed to them like a white-robed phantom pursued +by hornets. Its moans riffled the hemlock twigs. + +The three men dropped their bundles and scurried to one side, their eyes +gleaming with fear. The canvas avalanche swept past them. They leaned, +faint and dumb, against trees and listened, their blood stagnant. Below +them it struck the base of a great pine tree, where it writhed and +struggled. The three watched its convolutions a moment and then started +terrifically for the top of the hill. As they disappeared, the bear cut +loose with a mighty effort. He cast one dishevelled and agonized look at +the white thing, and then started wildly for the inner recesses of the +forest. + +The three fear-stricken individuals ran to the rebuilt fire. The little +man reposed by it calmly smoking. They sprang at him and overwhelmed him +with interrogations. He contemplated darkness and took a long, pompous +puff. "There's only one of me--and the devil made a twin," he said. + + + + +FOUR MEN IN A CAVE + + +LIKEWISE FOUR QUEENS, AND A SULLIVAN COUNTY HERMIT + +The moon rested for a moment on the top of a tall pine on a hill. + +The little man was standing in front of the campfire making orations to +his companions. + +"We can tell a great tale when we get back to the city if we investigate +this thing," said he, in conclusion. + +They were won. + +The little man was determined to explore a cave, because its black mouth +had gaped at him. The four men took a lighted pine-knot and clambered +over boulders down a hill. In a thicket on the mountainside lay a little +tilted hole. At its side they halted. + +"Well?" said the little man. + +They fought for last place and the little man was overwhelmed. He tried +to struggle from under by crying that if the fat, pudgy man came after, +he would be corked. But he finally administered a cursing over his +shoulder and crawled into the hole. His companions gingerly followed. + +A passage, the floor of damp clay and pebbles, the walls slimy, green- +mossed, and dripping, sloped downward. In the cave atmosphere the +torches became studies in red blaze and black smoke. + +"Ho!" cried the little man, stifled and bedraggled, "let's go back." His +companions were not brave. They were last. The next one to the little +man pushed him on, so the little man said sulphurous words and +cautiously continued his crawl. + +Things that hung seemed to be on the wet, uneven ceiling, ready to drop +upon the men's bare necks. Under their hands the clammy floor seemed +alive and writhing. When the little man endeavored to stand erect the +ceiling forced him down. Knobs and points came out and punched him. His +clothes were wet and mud-covered, and his eyes, nearly blinded by smoke, +tried to pierce the darkness always before his torch. + +"Oh, I say, you fellows, let's go back," cried he. At that moment he +caught the gleam of trembling light in the blurred shadows before him. + +"Ho!" he said, "here's another way out." + +The passage turned abruptly. The little man put one hand around the +corner, but it touched nothing. He investigated and discovered that the +little corridor took a sudden dip down a hill. At the bottom shone a +yellow light. + +The little man wriggled painfully about, and descended feet in advance. +The others followed his plan. All picked their way with anxious care. +The traitorous rocks rolled from beneath the little man's feet and +roared thunderously below him, lesser stone loosened by the men above +him, hit him on the back. He gained seemingly firm foothold, and, +turning halfway about, swore redly at his companions for dolts and +careless fools. The pudgy man sat, puffing and perspiring, high in the +rear of the procession. The fumes and smoke from four pine-knots were in +his blood. Cinders and sparks lay thick in his eyes and hair. The pause +of the little man angered him. + +"Go on, you fool!" he shouted. "Poor, painted man, you are afraid." + +"Ho!" said the little man. "Come down here and go on yourself, +imbecile!" + +The pudgy man vibrated with passion. He leaned downward. "Idiot--" + +He was interrupted by one of his feet which flew out and crashed into +the man in front of and below. It is not well to quarrel upon a slippery +incline, when the unknown is below. The fat man, having lost the support +of one pillar-like foot, lurched forward. His body smote the next man, +who hurtled into the next man. Then they all fell upon the cursing +little man. + +They slid in a body down over the slippery, slimy floor of the passage. +The stone avenue must have wibble-wobbled with the rush of this ball of +tangled men and strangled cries. The torches went out with the combined +assault upon the little man. The adventurers whirled to the unknown in +darkness. The little man felt that he was pitching to death, but even in +his convolutions he bit and scratched at his companions, for he was +satisfied that it was their fault. The swirling mass went some twenty +feet, and lit upon a level, dry place in a strong, yellow light of +candles. It dissolved and became eyes. + +The four men lay in a heap upon the floor of a grey chamber. A small +fire smoldered in the corner, the smoke disappearing in a crack. In +another corner was a bed of faded hemlock boughs and two blankets. +Cooking utensils and clothes lay about, with boxes and a barrel. + +Of these things the four men took small cognisance. The pudgy man did +not curse the little man, nor did the little man swear, in the abstract. +Eight widened eyes were fixed upon the center of the room of rocks. + +A great, gray stone, cut squarely, like an altar, sat in the middle of +the floor. Over it burned three candles, in swaying tin cups hung from +the ceiling. Before it, with what seemed to be a small volume clasped in +his yellow fingers, stood a man. He was an infinitely sallow person in +the brown-checked shirt of the ploughs and cows. The rest of his apparel +was boots. A long grey beard dangled from his chin. He fixed glinting, +fiery eyes upon the heap of men, and remained motionless. Fascinated, +their tongues cleaving, their blood cold, they arose to their feet. The +gleaming glance of the recluse swept slowly over the group until it +found the face of the little man. There it stayed and burned. + +The little man shrivelled and crumpled as the dried leaf under the +glass. + +Finally, the recluse slowly, deeply spoke. It was a true voice from a +cave, cold, solemn, and damp. + +"It's your ante," he said. + +"What?" said the little man. + +The hermit tilted his beard and laughed a laugh that was either the +chatter of a banshee in a storm or the rattle of pebbles in a tin box. +His visitors' flesh seemed ready to drop from their bones. + +They huddled together and cast fearful eyes over their shoulders. They +whispered. + +"A vampire!" said one. + +"A ghoul!" said another. + +"A Druid before the sacrifice," murmured another. + +"The shade of an Aztec witch doctor," said the little man. + +As they looked, the inscrutable face underwent a change. It became a +livid background for his eyes, which blazed at the little man like +impassioned carbuncles. His voice arose to a howl of ferocity. "It's +your ante!" With a panther-like motion he drew a long, thin knife and +advanced, stooping. Two cadaverous hounds came from nowhere, and, +scowling and growling, made desperate feints at the little man's legs. +His quaking companions pushed him forward. + +Tremblingly he put his hand to his pocket. + +"How much?" he said, with a shivering look at the knife that glittered. + +The carbuncles faded. + +"Three dollars," said the hermit, in sepulchral tones which rang against +the walls and among the passages, awakening long-dead spirits with +voices. The shaking little man took a roll of bills from a pocket and +placed "three ones" upon the altar-like stone. The recluse looked at the +little volume with reverence in his eyes. It was a pack of playing +cards. + +Under the three swinging candles, upon the altar-like stone, the grey +beard and the agonized little man played at poker. The three other men +crouched in a corner, and stared with eyes that gleamed with terror. +Before them sat the cadaverous hounds licking their red lips. The +candles burned low, and began to flicker. The fire in the corner +expired. + +Finally, the game came to a point where the little man laid down his +hand and quavered: "I can't call you this time, sir. I'm dead broke." + +"What?" shrieked the recluse. "Not call me! Villain Dastard! Cur! I have +four queens, miscreant." His voice grew so mighty that it could not fit +his throat. He choked wrestling with his lungs for a moment. Then the +power of his body was concentrated in a word: "Go!" + +He pointed a quivering, yellow finger at a wide crack in the rock. The +little man threw himself at it with a howl. His erstwhile frozen +companions felt their blood throb again. With great bounds they plunged +after the little man. A minute of scrambling, falling, and pushing +brought them to open air. They climbed the distance to their camp in +furious springs. + +The sky in the east was a lurid yellow. In the west the footprints of +departing night lay on the pine trees. In front of their replenished +camp fire sat John Willerkins, the guide. + +"Hello!" he shouted at their approach. "Be you fellers ready to go deer +huntin'?" + +Without replying, they stopped and debated among themselves in whispers. + +Finally, the pudgy man came forward. + +"John," he inquired, "do you know anything peculiar about this cave +below here?" + +"Yes," said Willerkins at once; "Tom Gardner." + +"What?" said the pudgy man. + +"Tom Gardner." + +"How's that?" + +"Well, you see," said Willerkins slowly, as he took dignified pulls at +his pipe, "Tom Gardner was once a fambly man, who lived in these here +parts on a nice leetle farm. He uster go away to the city orften, and +one time he got a-gamblin' in one of them there dens. He went ter the +dickens right quick then. At last he kum home one time and tol' his +folks he had up and sold the farm and all he had in the worl'. His +leetle wife she died then. Tom he went crazy, and soon after--" + +The narrative was interrupted by the little man, who became possessed of +devils. + +"I wouldn't give a cuss if he had left me 'nough money to get home on +the doggoned, grey-haired red pirate," he shrilled, in a seething +sentence. The pudgy man gazed at the little man calmly and sneeringly. + +"Oh, well," he said, "we can tell a great tale when we get back to the +city after having investigated this thing." + +"Go to the devil," replied the little man. + + + + +THE MESMERIC MOUNTAIN + + +A TALE OF SULLIVAN COUNTY + +On the brow of a pine-plumed hillock there sat a little man with his +back against a tree. A venerable pipe hung from his mouth, and smoke- +wreaths curled slowly skyward, he was muttering to himself with his eyes +fixed on an irregular black opening in the green wall of forest at the +foot of the hill. Two vague wagon ruts led into the shadows. The little +man took his pipe in his hands and addressed the listening pines. + +"I wonder what the devil it leads to," said he. + +A grey, fat rabbit came lazily from a thicket and sat in the opening. +Softly stroking his stomach with his paw, he looked at the little man in +a thoughtful manner. The little man threw a stone, and the rabbit +blinked and ran through an opening. Green, shadowy portals seemed to +close behind him. + +The little man started. "He's gone down that roadway," he said, with +ecstatic mystery to the pines. He sat a long time and contemplated the +door to the forest. Finally, he arose, and awakening his limbs, started +away. But he stopped and looked back. + +"I can't imagine what it leads to," muttered he. He trudged over the +brown mats of pine needles, to where, in a fringe of laurel, a tent was +pitched, and merry flames caroused about some logs. A pudgy man was +fuming over a collection of tin dishes. He came forward and waved a +plate furiously in the little man's face. + +"I've washed the dishes for three days. What do you think I am--" + +He ended a red oration with a roar: "Damned if I do it any more." + +The little man gazed dim-eyed away. "I've been wonderin' what it leads +to." + +"What?" + +"That road out yonder. I've been wonderin' what it leads to. Maybe, some +discovery or something," said the little man. + +The pudgy man laughed. "You're an idiot. It leads to ol' Jim Boyd's over +on the Lumberland Pike." + +"Ho!" said the little man, "I don't believe that." + +The pudgy man swore. "Fool, what does it lead to, then?" + +"I don't know just what, but I'm sure it leads to something great or +something. It looks like it." + +While the pudgy man was cursing, two more men came from obscurity with +fish dangling from birch twigs. The pudgy man made an obviously +herculean struggle and a meal was prepared. As he was drinking his cup +of coffee, he suddenly spilled it and swore. The little man was +wandering off. + +"He's gone to look at that hole," cried the pudgy man. + +The little man went to the edge of the pine-plumed hillock, and, sitting +down, began to make smoke and regard the door to the forest. There was +stillness for an hour. Compact clouds hung unstirred in the sky. The +pines stood motionless, and pondering. + +Suddenly the little man slapped his knees and bit his tongue. He stood +up and determinedly filled his pipe, rolling his eye over the bowl to +the doorway. Keeping his eyes fixed he slid dangerously to the foot of +the hillock and walked down the wagon ruts. A moment later he passed +from the noise of the sunshine to the gloom of the woods. + +The green portals closed, shutting out live things. The little man +trudged on alone. + +Tall tangled grass grew in the roadway, and the trees bended obstructing +branches. The little man followed on over pine-clothed ridges and down +through water-soaked swales. His shoes were cut by rocks of the +mountains, and he sank ankle-deep in mud and moss of swamps. A curve +just ahead lured him miles. + +Finally, as he wended the side of a ridge, the road disappeared from +beneath his feet. He battled with hordes of ignorant bushes on his way +to knolls and solitary trees which invited him. Once he came to a tall, +bearded pine. He climbed it, and perceived in the distance a peak. He +uttered an ejaculation and fell out. + +He scrambled to his feet, and said: "That's Jones's Mountain, I guess. +It's about six miles from our camp as the crow flies." + +He changed his course away from the mountain, and attacked the bushes +again. He climbed over great logs, golden-brown in decay, and was +opposed by thickets of dark-green laurel. A brook slid through the ooze +of a swamp, cedars and hemlocks hung their spray to the edges of pools. + +The little man began to stagger in his walk. After a time he stopped and +mopped his brow. + +"My legs are about to shrivel up and drop off," he said.... "Still if I +keep on in this direction, I am safe to strike the Lumberland Pike +before sundown." + +He dived at a clump of tag-alders, and emerging, confronted Jones's +Mountain. + +The wanderer sat down in a clear space and fixed his eyes on the summit. +His mouth opened widely, and his body swayed at times. The little man +and the peak stared in silence. + +A lazy lake lay asleep near the foot of the mountain. In its bed of +water-grass some frogs leered at the sky and crooned. The sun sank in +red silence, and the shadows of the pines grew formidable. The expectant +hush of evening, as if some thing were going to sing a hymn, fell upon +the peak and the little man. + +A leaping pickerel off on the water created a silver circle that was +lost in black shadows. The little man shook himself and started to his +feet, crying: "For the love of Mike, there's eyes in this mountain! I +feel 'em! Eyes!" + +He fell on his face. + +When he looked again, he immediately sprang erect and ran. + +"It's comin'!" + +The mountain was approaching. + +The little man scurried, sobbing through the thick growth. He felt his +brain turning to water. He vanquished brambles with mighty bounds. + +But after a time he came again to the foot of the mountain. + +"God!" he howled, "it's been follerin' me." He grovelled. + +Casting his eyes upward made circles swirl in his blood. + +"I'm shackled I guess," he moaned. As he felt the heel of the mountain +about to crush his head, he sprang again to his feet. He grasped a +handful of small stones and hurled them. + +"Damn you," he shrieked loudly. The pebbles rang against the face of the +mountain. + +The little man then made an attack. He climbed with hands and feet +wildly. Brambles forced him back and stones slid from beneath his feet. +The peak swayed and tottered, and was ever about to smite with a granite +arm. The summit was a blaze of red wrath. + +But the little man at last reached the top. Immediately he swaggered +with valor to the edge of the cliff. His hands were scornfully in his +pockets. + +He gazed at the western horizon, edged sharply against a yellow sky. +"Ho!" he said. "There's Boyd's house and the Lumberland Pike." + +The mountain under his feet was motionless. + + + + +THE SNAKE + + +Where the path wended across the ridge, the bushes of huckleberry and +sweet fern swarmed at it in two curling waves until it was a mere +winding line traced through a tangle. There was no interference by +clouds, and as the rays of the sun fell full upon the ridge, they called +into voice innumerable insects which chanted the heat of the summer day +in steady, throbbing, unending chorus. + +A man and a dog came from the laurel thickets of the valley where the +white brook brawled with the rocks. They followed the deep line of the +path across the ridges. The dog--a large lemon and white setter--walked, +tranquilly meditative, at his master's heels. + +Suddenly from some unknown and yet near place in advance there came a +dry, shrill whistling rattle that smote motion instantly from the limbs +of the man and the dog. Like the fingers of a sudden death, this sound +seemed to touch the man at the nape of the neck, at the top of the +spine, and change him, as swift as thought, to a statue of listening +horror, surprise, rage. The dog, too--the same icy hand was laid upon +him, and he stood crouched and quivering, his jaw dropping, the froth of +terror upon his lips, the light of hatred in his eyes. + +Slowly the man moved his hands toward the bushes, but his glance did not +turn from the place made sinister by the warning rattle. His fingers, +unguided, sought for a stick of weight and strength. Presently they +closed about one that seemed adequate, and holding this weapon poised +before him the man moved slowly forward, glaring. The dog with his +nervous nostrils fairly fluttering moved warily, one foot at a time, +after his master. + +But when the man came upon the snake, his body underwent a shock as if +from a revelation, as if after all he had been ambushed. With a blanched +face, he sprang forward and his breath came in strained gasps, his chest +heaving as if he were in the performance of an extraordinary muscular +trial. His arm with the stick made a spasmodic, defensive gesture. + +The snake had apparently been crossing the path in some mystic travel +when to his sense there came the knowledge of the coming of his foes. +The dull vibration perhaps informed him, and he flung his body to face +the danger. He had no knowledge of paths; he had no wit to tell him to +slink noiselessly into the bushes. He knew that his implacable enemies +were approaching; no doubt they were seeking him, hunting him. And so he +cried his cry, an incredibly swift jangle of tiny bells, as burdened +with pathos as the hammering upon quaint cymbals by the Chinese at war-- +for, indeed, it was usually his death-music. + +"Beware! Beware! Beware!" + +The man and the snake confronted each other. In the man's eyes were +hatred and fear. In the snake's eyes were hatred and fear. These enemies +maneuvered, each preparing to kill. It was to be a battle without mercy. +Neither knew of mercy for such a situation. In the man was all the wild +strength of the terror of his ancestors, of his race, of his kind. A +deadly repulsion had been handed from man to man through long dim +centuries. This was another detail of a war that had begun evidently +when first there were men and snakes. Individuals who do not participate +in this strife incur the investigations of scientists. Once there was a +man and a snake who were friends, and at the end, the man lay dead with +the marks of the snake's caress just over his East Indian heart. In the +formation of devices, hideous and horrible, Nature reached her supreme +point in the making of the snake, so that priests who really paint hell +well fill it with snakes instead of fire. The curving forms, these +scintillant coloring create at once, upon sight, more relentless +animosities than do shake barbaric tribes. To be born a snake is to be +thrust into a place a-swarm with formidable foes. To gain an +appreciation of it, view hell as pictured by priests who are really +skilful. + +As for this snake in the pathway, there was a double curve some inches +back of its head, which, merely by the potency of its lines, made the +man feel with tenfold eloquence the touch of the death-fingers at the +nape of his neck. The reptile's head was waving slowly from side to side +and its hot eyes flashed like little murder-lights. Always in the air +was the dry, shrill whistling of the rattles. + +"Beware! Beware! Beware!" + +The man made a preliminary feint with his stick. Instantly the snake's +heavy head and neck were bended back on the double curve and instantly +the snake's body shot forward in a low, strait, hard spring. The man +jumped with a convulsive chatter and swung his stick. The blind, +sweeping blow fell upon the snake's head and hurled him so that steel- +colored plates were for a moment uppermost. But he rallied swiftly, +agilely, and again the head and neck bended back to the double curve, +and the steaming, wide-open mouth made its desperate effort to reach its +enemy. This attack, it could be seen, was despairing, but it was +nevertheless impetuous, gallant, ferocious, of the same quality as the +charge of the lone chief when the walls of white faces close upon him in +the mountains. The stick swung unerringly again, and the snake, +mutilated, torn, whirled himself into the last coil. + +And now the man went sheer raving mad from the emotions of his +forefathers and from his own. He came to close quarters. He gripped the +stick with his two hands and made it speed like a flail. The snake, +tumbling in the anguish of final despair, fought, bit, flung itself upon +this stick which was taking his life. + +At the end, the man clutched his stick and stood watching in silence. +The dog came slowly and with infinite caution stretched his nose +forward, sniffing. The hair upon his neck and back moved and ruffled as +if a sharp wind was blowing, the last muscular quivers of the snake were +causing the rattles to still sound their treble cry, the shrill, ringing +war chant and hymn of the grave of the thing that faces foes at once +countless, implacable, and superior. + +"Well, Rover," said the man, turning to the dog with a grin of victory, +"we'll carry Mr. Snake home to show the girls." + +His hands still trembled from the strain of the encounter, but he pried +with his stick under the body of the snake and hoisted the limp thing +upon it. He resumed his march along the path, and the dog walked +tranquilly meditative, at his master's heels. + + + + +LONDON IMPRESSIONS + + +CHAPTER I + +London at first consisted of a porter with the most charming manners in +the world, and a cabman with a supreme intelligence, both observing my +profound ignorance without contempt or humor of any kind observable in +their manners. It was in a great resounding vault of a place where there +were many people who had come home, and I was displeased because they +knew the detail of the business, whereas I was confronting the +inscrutable. This made them appear very stony-hearted to the sufferings +of one of whose existence, to be sure, they were entirely unaware, and I +remember taking great pleasure in disliking them heartily for it. I was +in an agony of mind over my baggage, or my luggage, or my--perhaps it is +well to shy around this terrible international question; but I remember +that when I was a lad I was told that there was a whole nation that said +luggage instead of baggage, and my boyish mind was filled at the time +with incredulity and scorn. In the present case it was a thing that I +understood to involve the most hideous confessions of imbecility on my +part, because I had evidently to go out to some obscure point and espy +it and claim it, and take trouble for it; and I would rather have had my +pockets filled with bread and cheese, and had no baggage at all. + +Mind you, this was not at all a homage that I was paying to London. I +was paying homage to a new game. A man properly lazy does not like new +experiences until they become old ones. Moreover, I have been taught +that a man, any man, who has a thousand times more points of information +on a certain thing than I have will bully me because of it, and pour his +advantages upon my bowed head until I am drenched with his superiority. +It was in my education to concede some license of the kind in this case, +but the holy father of a porter and the saintly cabman occupied the +middle distance imperturbably, and did not come down from their hills to +clout me with knowledge. From this fact I experienced a criminal +elation. I lost view of the idea that if I had been brow-beaten by +porters and cabmen from one end of the United States to the other end I +should warmly like it, because in numbers they are superior to me, and +collectively they can have a great deal of fun out of a matter that +would merely afford me the glee of the latent butcher. + +This London, composed of a porter and a cabman, stood to me subtly as a +benefactor. I had scanned the drama, and found that I did not believe +that the mood of the men emanated unduly from the feature that there was +probably more shillings to the square inch of me than there were +shillings to the square inch of them. Nor yet was it any manner of +palpable warm-heartedness or other natural virtue. But it was a perfect +artificial virtue; it was drill, plain, simple drill. And now was I glad +of their drilling, and vividly approved of it, because I saw that it was +good for me. Whether it was good or bad for the porter and the cabman I +could not know; but that point, mark you, came within the pale of my +respectable rumination. + +I am sure that it would have been more correct for me to have alighted +upon St. Paul's and described no emotion until I was overcome by the +Thames Embankment and the Houses of Parliament. But as a matter of fact +I did not see them for some days, and at this time they did not concern +me at all. I was born in London at a railroad station, and my new vision +encompassed a porter and a cabman. They deeply absorbed me in new +phenomena, and I did not then care to see the Thames Embankment nor the +Houses of Parliament. I considered the porter and the cabman to be more +important. + + +CHAPTER II + +The cab finally rolled out of the gas-lit vault into a vast expanse of +gloom. This changed to the shadowy lines of a street that was like a +passage in a monstrous cave. The lamps winking here and there resembled +the little gleams at the caps of the miners. They were not very +competent illuminations at best, merely being little pale flares of gas +that at their most heroic periods could only display one fact concerning +this tunnel--the fact of general direction. But at any rate I should +have liked to have observed the dejection of a search-light if it had +been called upon to attempt to bore through this atmosphere. In it each +man sat in his own little cylinder of vision, so to speak. It was not so +small as a sentry-box nor so large as a circus tent, but the walls were +opaque, and what was passing beyond the dimensions of his cylinder no +man knew. + +It was evident that the paving was very greasy, but all the cabs that +passed through my cylinder were going at a round trot, while the wheels, +shod in rubber, whirred merely like bicycles. The hoofs of the animals +themselves did not make that wild clatter which I knew so well. New York +in fact, roars always like ten thousand devils. We have ingenuous and +simple ways of making a din in New York that cause the stranger to +conclude that each citizen is obliged by statute to provide himself with +a pair of cymbals and a drum. If anything by chance can be turned into a +noise it is promptly turned. We are engaged in the development of a +human creature with very large, sturdy, and doubly, fortified ears. + +It was not too late at night, but this London moved with the decorum and +caution of an undertaker. There was a silence, and yet there was no +silence. There was a low drone, perhaps a humming contributed inevitably +by closely-gathered thousands, and yet on second thoughts it was to me +silence. I had perched my ears for the note of London, the sound made +simply by the existence of five million people in one place. I had +imagined something deep, vastly deep, a bass from a mythical organ, but +found as far as I was concerned, only a silence. + +New York in numbers is a mighty city, and all day and all night it cries +its loud, fierce, aspiring cry, a noise of men beating upon barrels, a +noise of men beating upon tin, a terrific racket that assails the abject +skies. No one of us seemed to question this row as a certain consequence +of three or four million people living together and scuffling for coin, +with more agility, perhaps, but otherwise in the usual way. However, +after this easy silence of London, which in numbers is a mightier city, +I began to feel that there was a seduction in this idea of necessity. +Our noise in New York was not a consequence of our rapidity at all. It +was a consequence of our bad pavements. + +Any brigade of artillery in Europe that would love to assemble its +batteries, and then go on a gallop over the land, thundering and +thundering, would give up the idea of thunder at once if it could hear +Tim Mulligan drive a beer wagon along one of the side streets of cobbled +New York. + + +CHAPTER III + +Finally a great thing came to pass. The cab horse, proceeding at a sharp +trot, found himself suddenly at the top of an incline, where through the +rain the pavement shone like an expanse of ice. It looked to me as if +there was going to be a tumble. In an accident of such a kind a hansom +becomes really a cannon in which a man finds that he has paid shillings +for the privilege of serving as a projectile. I was making a rapid +calculation of the arc that I would describe in my flight, when the +horse met his crisis with a masterly device that I could not have +imagined. He tranquilly braced his four feet like a bundle of stakes, +and then, with a gentle gaiety of demeanor, he slid swiftly and +gracefully to the bottom of the hill as if he had been a toboggan. When +the incline ended he caught his gait again with great dexterity, and +went pattering off through another tunnel. + +I at once looked upon myself as being singularly blessed by this sight. +This horse had evidently originated this system of skating as a +diversion, or, more probably, as a precaution against the slippery +pavement; and he was, of course the inventor and sole proprietor--two +terms that are not always in conjunction. It surely was not to be +supposed that there could be two skaters like him in the world. He +deserved to be known and publicly praised for this accomplishment. It +was worthy of many records and exhibitions. But when the cab arrived at +a place where some dipping streets met, and the flaming front of a +music-hall temporarily widened my cylinder, behold there were many cabs, +and as the moment of necessity came the horses were all skaters. They +were gliding in all directions. It might have been a rink. A great +omnibus was hailed by a hand under an umbrella on the side walk, and the +dignified horses bidden to halt from their trot did not waste time in +wild and unseemly spasms. They, too, braced their legs and slid gravely +to the end of their momentum. + +It was not the feat, but it was the word which had at this time the +power to conjure memories of skating parties on moonlit lakes, with +laughter ringing over the ice, and a great red bonfire on the shore +among the hemlocks. + + +CHAPTER IV + +A Terrible thing in nature is the fall of a horse in his harness. It is +a tragedy. Despite their skill in skating there was that about the +pavement on the rainy evening which filled me with expectations of +horses going headlong. Finally it happened just in front. There was a +shout and a tangle in the darkness, and presently a prostrate cab horse +came within my cylinder. The accident having been a complete success and +altogether concluded, a voice from the side walk said, "_Look_ out, +now! _Be_ more careful, can't you?" + +I remember a constituent of a Congressman at Washington who had tried in +vain to bore this Congressman with a wild project of some kind. The +Congressman eluded him with skill, and his rage and despair ultimately +culminated in the supreme grievance that he could not even get near +enough to the Congressman to tell him to go to Hades. + +This cabman should have felt the same desire to strangle this man who +spoke from the sidewalk. He was plainly impotent; he was deprived of the +power of looking out. There was nothing now for which to look out. The +man on the sidewalk had dragged a corpse from a pond and said to it, + +"_Be_ more careful, can't you, or you'll drown?" My cabman pulled +up and addressed a few words of reproach to the other. Three or four +figures loomed into my cylinder, and as they appeared spoke to the +author or the victim of the calamity in varied terms of displeasure. +Each of these reproaches was couched in terms that defined the situation +as impending. No blind man could have conceived that the precipitate +phrase of the incident was absolutely closed. + +"_Look_ out now, cawn't you?" And there was nothing in his mind +which approached these sentiments near enough to tell them to go to +Hades. + +However, it needed only an ear to know presently that these expressions +were formulae. It was merely the obligatory dance which the Indians had +to perform before they went to war. These men had come to help, but as a +regular and traditional preliminary they had first to display to this +cabman their idea of his ignominy. + +The different thing in the affair was the silence of the victim. He +retorted never a word. This, too, to me seemed to be an obedience to a +recognized form. He was the visible criminal, if there was a criminal, +and there was born of it a privilege for them. + +They unfastened the proper straps and hauled back the cab. They fetched +a mat from some obscure place of succor, and pushed it carefully under +the prostrate thing. From this panting, quivering mass they suddenly and +emphatically reconstructed a horse. As each man turned to go his way he +delivered some superior caution to the cabman while the latter buckled +his harness. + + +CHAPTER V + +There was to be noticed in this band of rescuers a young man in evening +clothes and top-hat. Now, in America a young man in evening clothes and +a top-hat may be a terrible object. He is not likely to do violence, but +he is likely to do impassivity and indifference to the point where they +become worse than violence. There are certain of the more idle phases of +civilization to which America has not yet awakened--and it is a matter +of no moment if she remains unaware. This matter of hats is one of them. +I recall a legend recited to me by an esteemed friend, ex-Sheriff of Tin +Can, Nevada. Jim Cortright, one of the best gun-fighters in town, went +on a journey to Chicago, and while there he procured a top-hat. He was +quite sure how Tin Can would accept this innovation, but he relied on +the celerity with which he could get a six-shooter in action. One Sunday +Jim examined his guns with his usual care, placed the top-hat on the +back of his head, and sauntered coolly out into the streets of Tin Can. + +Now, while Jim was in Chicago some progressive citizen had decided that +Tin Can needed a bowling alley. The carpenters went to work the next +morning, and an order for the balls and pins was telegraphed to Denver. +In three days the whole population was concentrated at the new alley +betting their outfits and their lives. + +It has since been accounted very unfortunate that Jim Cortright had not +learned of bowling alleys at his mother's knee or even later in the +mines. This portion of his mind was singularly belated. He might have +been an Apache for all he knew of bowling alleys. + +In his careless stroll through the town, his hands not far from his belt +and his eyes going sideways in order to see who would shoot first at the +hat, he came upon this long, low shanty where Tin Can was betting itself +hoarse over a game between a team from the ranks of Excelsior Hose +Company No. 1 and a team composed from the _habitues_ of the "Red +Light" saloon. + +Jim, in blank ignorance of bowling phenomena, wandered casually through +a little door into what must always be termed the wrong end of a bowling +alley. Of course, he saw that the supreme moment had come. They were not +only shooting at the hat and at him, but the low-down cusses were using +the most extraordinary and hellish ammunition. Still, perfectly +undaunted, however, Jim retorted with his two Colts, and killed three of +the best bowlers in Tin Can. + +The ex-Sheriff vouched for this story. He himself had gone headlong +through the door at the firing of the first shot with that simple +courtesy which leads Western men to donate the fighters plenty of room. +He said that afterwards the hat was the cause of a number of other +fights, and that finally a delegation of prominent citizens was obliged +to wait upon Cortright and ask him if he wouldn't take that thing away +somewhere and bury it. Jim pointed out to them that it was his hat, and +that he would regard it as a cowardly concession if he submitted to +their dictation in the matter of his headgear. He added that he purposed +to continue to wear his top-hat on every occasion when he happened to +feel that the wearing of a top-hat was a joy and a solace to him. + +The delegation sadly retired, and announced to the town that Jim +Cortright had openly defied them, and had declared his purpose of +forcing his top-hat on the pained attention of Tin Can whenever he +chose. Jim Cortright's plug hat became a phrase with considerable +meaning to it. + +However, the whole affair ended in a great passionate outburst of +popular revolution. Spike Foster was a friend of Cortright, and one day, +when the latter was indisposed, Spike came to him and borrowed the hat. +He had been drinking heavily at the "Red Light," and was in a supremely +reckless mood. With the terrible gear hanging jauntily over his eye and +his two guns drawn, he walked straight out into the middle of the square +in front of the Palace Hotel, and drew the attention of all Tin Can by a +blood-curdling imitation of the yowl of a mountain lion. + +This was when the long suffering populace arose as one man. The top-hat +had been flaunted once too often. When Spike Foster's friends came to +carry him away they found nearly a hundred and fifty men shooting busily +at a mark--and the mark was the hat. + +My informant told me that he believed he owed his popularity in Tin Can, +and subsequently his election to the distinguished office of Sheriff, to +the active and prominent part he had taken in the proceedings. + +The enmity to the top-hat expressed by the convincing anecdote exists in +the American West at present, I think, in the perfection of its +strength; but disapproval is not now displayed by volleys from the +citizens, save in the most aggravating cases. It is at present usually a +matter of mere jibe and general contempt. The East, however, despite a +great deal of kicking and gouging, is having the top-hat stuffed slowly +and carefully down its throat, and there now exist many young men who +consider that they could not successfully conduct their lives without +this furniture. + +To speak generally, I should say that the headgear then supplies them +with a kind of ferocity of indifference. There is fire, sword, and +pestilence in the way they heed only themselves. Philosophy should +always know that indifference is a militant thing. It batters down the +walls of cities, and murders the women and children amid flames and the +purloining of altar vessels. When it goes away it leaves smoking ruins, +where lie citizens bayoneted through the throat. It is not a children's +pastime like mere highway robbery. + +Consequently in America we may be much afraid of these young men. We +dive down alleys so that we may not kowtow. It is a fearsome thing. + +Taught thus a deep fear of the top-hat in its effect upon youth, I was +not prepared for the move of this particular young man when the cab- +horse fell. In fact, I grovelled in my corner that I might not see the +cruel stateliness of his passing. But in the meantime he had crossed the +street, and contributed the strength of his back and some advice, as +well as the formal address, to the cabman on the importance of looking +out immediately. + +I felt that I was making a notable collection. I had a new kind of +porter, a cylinder of vision, horses that could skate, and now I added a +young man in a top-hat who would tacitly admit that the beings around +him were alive. He was not walking a churchyard filled with inferior +headstones. He was walking the world, where there were people, many +people. + +But later I took him out of the collection. I thought he had rebelled +against the manner of a class, but I soon discovered that the top-hat +was not the property of a class. It was the property of rogues, clerks, +theatrical agents, damned seducers, poor men, nobles, and others. In +fact, it was the universal rigging. It was the only hat; all other forms +might as well be named ham, or chops, or oysters. I retracted my +admiration of the young man because he may have been merely a rogue. + + +CHAPTER VI + +There was a window whereat an enterprising man by dodging two placards +and a calendar was entitled to view a young woman. She was dejectedly +writing in a large book. She was ultimately induced to open the window a +trifle. "What nyme, please?" she said wearily. I was surprised to hear +this language from her. I had expected to be addressed on a submarine +topic. I have seen shell fishes sadly writing in large books at the +bottom of a gloomy acquarium who could not ask me what was my "nyme." + +At the end of the hall there was a grim portal marked "lift." I pressed +an electric button and heard an answering tinkle in the heavens. There +was an upholstered settle near at hand, and I discovered the reason. A +deer-stalking peace drooped upon everything, and in it a man could +invoke the passing of a lazy pageant of twenty years of his life. The +dignity of a coffin being lowered into a grave surrounded the ultimate +appearance of the lift. The expert we in America call the elevator-boy +stepped from the car, took three paces forward, faced to attention and +saluted. This elevator boy could not have been less than sixty years of +age; a great white beard streamed towards his belt. I saw that the lift +had been longer on its voyage than I had suspected. + +Later in our upward progress a natural event would have been an +establishment of social relations. Two enemies imprisoned together +during the still hours of a balloon journey would, I believe, suffer a +mental amalgamation. The overhang of a common fate, a great principal +fact, can make an equality and a truce between any pair. Yet, when I +disembarked, a final survey of the grey beard made me recall that I had +failed even to ask the boy whether he had not taken probably three trips +on this lift. + +My windows overlooked simply a great sea of night, in which were +swimming little gas fishes. + + +CHAPTER VII + +I have of late been led to reflect wistfully that many of the +illustrators are very clever. In an impatience, which was donated by a +certain economy of apparel, I went to a window to look upon day-lit +London. There were the 'buses parading the streets with the miens of +elephants There were the police looking precisely as I had been informed +by the prints. There were the sandwich-men. There was almost everything. + +But the artists had not told me the sound of London. Now, in New York +the artists are able to portray sound because in New York a dray is not +a dray at all; it is a great potent noise hauled by two or more horses. +When a magazine containing an illustration of a New York street is sent +to me, I always know it beforehand. I can hear it coming through the +mails. As I have said previously, this which I must call sound of London +was to me only a silence. + +Later, in front of the hotel a cabman that I hailed said to me--"Are you +gowing far, sir? I've got a byby here, and want to giv'er a bit of a +blough." This impressed me as being probably a quotation from an early +Egyptian poet, but I learned soon enough that the word "byby" was the +name of some kind or condition of horse. The cabman's next remark was +addressed to a boy who took a perilous dive between the byby's nose and +a cab in front. "That's roight. Put your head in there and get it +jammed--a whackin good place for it, I should think." Although the tone +was low and circumspect, I have never heard a better off-handed +declamation. Every word was cut clear of disreputable alliances with its +neighbors. The whole thing was clean as a row of pewter mugs. The +influence of indignation upon the voice caused me to reflect that we +might devise a mechanical means of inflaming some in that constellation +of mummers which is the heritage of the Anglo-Saxon race. + +Then I saw the drilling of vehicles by two policemen. There were four +torrents converging at a point, and when four torrents converge at one +point engineering experts buy tickets for another place. + +But here, again, it was drill, plain, simple drill. I must not falter in +saying that I think the management of the traffic--as the phrase goes-- +to be distinctly illuminating and wonderful. The police were not ruffled +and exasperated. They were as peaceful as two cows in a pasture. + +I can remember once remarking that mankind, with all its boasted modern +progress, had not yet been able to invent a turnstile that will commute +in fractions. I have now learned that 756 rights-of-way cannot operate +simultaneously at one point. Right-of-way, like fighting women, requires +space. Even two rights-of-way can make a scene which is only suited to +the tastes of an ancient public. + +This truth was very evidently recognized. There was only one right-of- +way at a time. The police did not look behind them to see if their +orders were to be obeyed; they knew they were to be obeyed. These four +torrents were drilling like four battalions. The two blue-cloth men +maneuvered them in solemn, abiding peace, the silence of London. + +I thought at first that it was the intellect of the individual, but I +looked at one constable closely and his face was as afire with +intelligence as a flannel pin-cushion. It was not the police, and it was +not the crowd. It was the police and the crowd. Again, it was drill. + + +CHAPTER VIII + +I have never been in the habit of reading signs. I don't like to read +signs. I have never met a man that liked to read signs. I once invented +a creature who could play the piano with a hammer, and I mentioned him +to a professor in Harvard University whose peculiarity was Sanscrit. He +had the same interest in my invention that I have in a certain kind of +mustard. And yet this mustard has become a part of me. Or, I have become +a part of this mustard. Further, I know more of an ink, a brand of hams, +a kind of cigarette, and a novelist than any man living. I went by train +to see a friend in the country, and after passing through a patent +mucilage, some more hams, a South African Investment Company, a Parisian +millinery firm, and a comic journal, I alighted at a new and original +kind of corset. On my return journey the road almost continuously ran +through soap. + +I have accumulated superior information concerning these things, because +I am at their mercy. If I want to know where I am I must find the +definitive sign. This accounts for my glib use of the word mucilage, as +well as the titles of other staples. + +I suppose even the Briton in mixing his life must sometimes consult the +labels on 'buses and streets and stations, even as the chemist consults +the labels on his bottles and boxes. A brave man would possibly affirm +that this was suggested by the existence of the labels. + +The reason that I did not learn more about hams and mucilage in New York +seems to me to be partly due to the fact that the British advertiser is +allowed to exercise an unbridled strategy in his attack with his new +corset or whatever upon the defensive public. He knows that the +vulnerable point is the informatory sign which the citizen must, of +course, use for his guidance, and then, with horse, foot, guns, corsets, +hams, mucilage, investment companies, and all, he hurls himself at the +point. + +Meanwhile I have discovered a way to make the Sanscrit scholar heed my +creature who plays the piano with a hammer. + + + + +THE SCOTCH EXPRESS + + +The entrance to Euston Station is of itself sufficiently imposing. It +is a high portico of brown stone, old and grim, in form a casual +imitation, no doubt, of the front of the temple of Nike Apteros, with a +recollection of the Egyptians proclaimed at the flanks. The frieze, +where of old would prance an exuberant processional of gods, is, in this +case, bare of decoration, but upon the epistyle is written in simple, +stern letters the word "EUSTON." The legend reared high by the gloomy +Pelagic columns stares down a wide avenue, In short, this entrance to a +railway station does not in any way resemble the entrance to a railway +station. It is more the front of some venerable bank. But it has another +dignity, which is not born of form. To a great degree, it is to the +English and to those who are in England the gate to Scotland. + +The little hansoms are continually speeding through the gate, dashing +between the legs of the solemn temple; the four-wheelers, their tops +crowded with luggage, roll in and out constantly, and the footways beat +under the trampling of the people. Of course, there are the suburbs and +a hundred towns along the line, and Liverpool, the beginning of an +important sea-path to America, and the great manufacturing cities of the +North; but if one stands at this gate in August particularly, one must +note the number of men with gun-cases, the number of women who surely +have Tam-o'-Shanters and plaids concealed within their luggage, ready +for the moors. There is, during the latter part of that month, a +wholesale flight from London to Scotland which recalls the July throngs +leaving New York for the shore or the mountains. + +The hansoms, after passing through this impressive portal of the +station, bowl smoothly across a courtyard which is in the center of the +terminal hotel, an institution dear to most railways in Europe. The +traveler lands amid a swarm of porters, and then proceeds cheerfully to +take the customary trouble for his luggage. America provides a +contrivance in a thousand situations where Europe provides a man or +perhaps a number of men, and the work of our brass check is here done by +porters, directed by the traveler himself. The men lack the memory of +the check; the check never forgets its identity. Moreover, the European +railways generously furnish the porters at the expense of the traveler. +Nevertheless, if these men have not the invincible business precision of +the check, and if they have to be tipped, it can be asserted for those +who care that in Europe one-half of the populace waits on the other half +most diligently and well. + +Against the masonry of a platform, under the vaulted arch of the train- +house, lay a long string of coaches. They were painted white on the +bulging part, which led halfway down from the top, and the bodies were a +deep bottle-green. There was a group of porters placing luggage in the +van, and a great many others were busy with the affairs of passengers, +tossing smaller bits of luggage into the racks over the seats, and +bustling here and there on short quests. The guard of the train, a tall +man who resembled one of the first Napoleon's veterans, was caring for +the distribution of passengers into the various bins. There were no +second-class compartments; they were all third and first-class. + +The train was at this time engineless, but presently a railway "flier," +painted a glowing vermilion, slid modestly down and took its place at +the head. The guard walked along the platform, and decisively closed +each door. He wore a dark blue uniform thoroughly decorated with silver +braid in the guise of leaves. The way of him gave to this business the +importance of a ceremony. Meanwhile the fireman had climbed down from +the cab and raised his hand, ready to transfer a signal to the driver, +who stood looking at his watch. In the interval there had something +progressed in the large signal box that stands guard at Euston. This +high house contains many levers, standing in thick, shining ranks. It +perfectly resembles an organ in some great church, if it were not that +these rows of numbered and indexed handles typify something more acutely +human than does a keyboard. It requires four men to play this organ-like +thing, and the strains never cease. Night and day, day and night, these +four men are walking to and fro, from this lever to that lever, and +under their hands the great machine raises its endless hymn of a world +at work, the fall and rise of signals and the clicking swing of +switches. + +And so as the vermilion engine stood waiting and looking from the shadow +of the curve-roofed station, a man in the signal house had played the +notes that informed the engine of its freedom. The driver saw the fall +of those proper semaphores which gave him liberty to speak to his steel +friend. A certain combination in the economy of the London and +Northwestern Railway, a combination which had spread from the men who +sweep out the carriages through innumerable minds to the general manager +himself, had resulted in the law that the vermilion engine, with its +long string of white and bottle-green coaches, was to start forthwith +toward Scotland. + +Presently the fireman, standing with his face toward the rear, let fall +his hand. "All right," he said. The driver turned a wheel, and as the +fireman slipped back, the train moved along the platform at the pace of +a mouse. To those in the tranquil carriages this starting was probably +as easy as the sliding of one's hand over a greased surface, but in the +engine there was more to it. The monster roared suddenly and loudly, and +sprang forward impetuously. A wrong-headed or maddened draft-horse will +plunge in its collar sometimes when going up a hill. But this load of +burdened carriages followed imperturbably at the gait of turtles. They +were not to be stirred from their way of dignified exit by the impatient +engine. The crowd of porters and transient people stood respectful. They +looked with the indefinite wonder of the railway-station sight-seer upon +the faces at the windows of the passing coaches. This train was off for +Scotland. It had started from the home of one accent to the home of +another accent. It was going from manner to manner, from habit to habit, +and in the minds of these London spectators there surely floated dim +images of the traditional kilts, the burring speech, the grouse, the +canniness, the oat-meal, all the elements of a romantic Scotland. + +The train swung impressively around the signal-house, and headed up a +brick-walled cut. In starting this heavy string of coaches, the engine +breathed explosively. It gasped, and heaved, and bellowed; once, for a +moment, the wheels spun on the rails, and a convulsive tremor shook the +great steel frame. + +The train itself, however, moved through this deep cut in the body of +London with coolness and precision, and the employees of the railway, +knowing the train's mission, tacitly presented arms at its passing. To +the travelers in the carriages, the suburbs of London must have been one +long monotony of carefully made walls of stone or brick. But after the +hill was climbed, the train fled through pictures of red habitations of +men on a green earth. + +But the noise in the cab did not greatly change its measure. Even though +the speed was now high, the tremendous thumping to be heard in the cab +was as alive with strained effort and as slow in beat as the breathing +of a half-drowned man. At the side of the track, for instance, the sound +doubtless would strike the ear in the familiar succession of incredibly +rapid puffs; but in the cab itself, this land-racer breathes very like +its friend, the marine engine. Everybody who has spent time on shipboard +has forever in his head a reminiscence of the steady and methodical +pounding of the engines, and perhaps it is curious that this relative +which can whirl over the land at such a pace, breathes in the leisurely +tones that a man heeds when he lies awake at night in his berth. + +There had been no fog in London, but here on the edge of the city a +heavy wind was blowing, and the driver leaned aside and yelled that it +was a very bad day for traveling on an engine. The engine-cabs of +England, as of all Europe, are seldom made for the comfort of the men. +One finds very often this apparent disregard for the man who does the +work--this indifference to the man who occupies a position which for the +exercise of temperance, of courage, of honesty, has no equal at the +altitude of prime ministers. The American engineer is the gilded +occupant of a salon in comparison with his brother in Europe. The man +who was guiding this five-hundred-ton bolt, aimed by the officials of +the railway at Scotland, could not have been as comfortable as a shrill +gibbering boatman of the Orient. The narrow and bare bench at his side +of the cab was not directly intended for his use, because it was so low +that he would be prevented by it from looking out of the ship's port- +hole which served him as a window. The fireman, on his side, had other +difficulties. His legs would have had to straggle over some pipes at the +only spot where there was a prospect, and the builders had also +strategically placed a large steel bolt. Of course it is plain that the +companies consistently believe that the men will do their work better if +they are kept standing. The roof of the cab was not altogether a roof. +It was merely a projection of two feet of metal from the bulkhead which +formed the front of the cab. There were practically no sides to it, and +the large cinders from the soft coal whirled around in sheets. From time +to time the driver took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his +blinking eyes. + +London was now well to the rear. The vermilion engine had been for some +time flying like the wind. This train averages, between London and +Carlisle forty-nine and nine-tenth miles an hour. It is a distance of +299 miles. There is one stop. It occurs at Crewe, and endures five +minutes. In consequence, the block signals flashed by seemingly at the +end of the moment in which they were sighted. + +There can be no question of the statement that the road-beds of English +railways are at present immeasurably superior to the American road-beds. +Of course there is a clear reason. It is known to every traveler that +peoples of the Continent of Europe have no right at all to own railways. +Those lines of travel are too childish and trivial for expression. A +correct fate would deprive the Continent of its railways, and give them +to somebody who knew about them. + +The continental idea of a railway is to surround a mass of machinery +with forty rings of ultra-military law, and then they believe they have +one complete. The Americans and the English are the railway peoples. +That our road-beds are poorer than the English road-beds is because of +the fact that we were suddenly obliged to build thousands upon thousands +of miles of railway, and the English were obliged to build slowly tens +upon tens of miles. A road-bed from New York to San Francisco, with +stations, bridges, and crossings of the kind that the London and +Northwestern owns from London to Glasgow, would cost a sum large enough +to support the German army for a term of years. The whole way is +constructed with the care that inspired the creators of some of our now +obsolete forts along the Atlantic coast. + +An American engineer, with his knowledge of the difficulties he had to +encounter--the wide rivers with variable banks, the mountain chains, +perhaps the long spaces of absolute desert; in fact, all the +perplexities of a vast and somewhat new country--would not dare spend a +respectable portion of his allowance on seventy feet of granite wall +over a gully, when he knew he could make an embankment with little cost +by heaving up the dirt and stones from here and there. But the English +road is all made in the pattern by which the Romans built their +highways. After England is dead, savants will find narrow streaks of +masonry leading from ruin to ruin. Of course this does not always seem +convincingly admirable. It sometimes resembles energy poured into a rat- +hole. There is a vale between expediency and the convenience of +posterity, a mid-ground which enables men surely to benefit the +hereafter people by valiantly advancing the present; and the point is +that, if some laborers live in unhealthy tenements in Cornwall, one is +likely to view with incomplete satisfaction the record of long and +patient labor and thought displayed by an eight-foot drain for a +nonexistent, impossible rivulet in the North. This sentence does not +sound strictly fair, but the meaning one wishes to convey is that if an +English company spies in its dream the ghost of an ancient valley that +later becomes a hill, it would construct for it a magnificent steel +trestle, and consider that a duty had been performed in proper +accordance with the company's conscience. But after all is said of it, +the accidents and the miles of railway operated in England are not in +proportion to the accidents and the miles of railway operated in the +United States. The reason can be divided into three parts--older +conditions, superior caution, the road-bed. And of these, the greatest +is older conditions. + +In this flight toward Scotland one seldom encountered a grade crossing. +In nine cases of ten there was either a bridge or a tunnel. The +platforms of even the remote country stations were all of ponderous +masonry in contrast to our constructions of planking. There was always +to be seen, as we thundered toward a station of this kind, a number of +porters in uniform, who requested the retreat of any one who had not the +wit to give us plenty of room. And then, as the shrill warning of the +whistle pierced even the uproar that was about us, came the wild joy of +the rush past a station. It was something in the nature of a triumphal +procession conducted at thrilling speed. Perhaps there was a curve of +infinite grace, a sudden hollow explosive effect made by the passing of +a signal-box that was close to the track, and then the deadly lunge to +shave the edge of a long platform. There were always a number of people +standing afar, with their eyes riveted upon this projectile, and to be +on the engine was to feel their interest and admiration in the terror +and grandeur of this sweep. A boy allowed to ride with the driver of the +band-wagon as a circus parade winds through one of our village streets +could not exceed for egotism the temper of a new man in the cab of a +train like this one. This valkyric journey on the back of the vermilion +engine, with the shouting of the wind, the deep, mighty panting of the +steed, the gray blur at the track-side, the flowing quicksilver ribbon +of the other rails, the sudden clash as a switch intersects, all the din +and fury of this ride, was of a splendor that caused one to look abroad +at the quiet, green landscape and believe that it was of a phlegm quiet +beyond patience. It should have been dark, rain-shot, and windy; thunder +should have rolled across its sky. + +It seemed, somehow, that if the driver should for a moment take his +hands from his engine, it might swerve from the track as a horse from +the road. Once, indeed, as he stood wiping his fingers on a bit of +waste, there must have been something ludicrous in the way the solitary +passenger regarded him. Without those finely firm hands on the bridle, +the engine might rear and bolt for the pleasant farms lying in the +sunshine at either side. + +This driver was worth contemplation. He was simply a quiet, middle-aged +man, bearded, and with the little wrinkles of habitual geniality and +kindliness spreading from the eyes toward the temple, who stood at his +post always gazing out, through his round window, while, from time to +time, his hands went from here to there over his levers. He seldom +changed either attitude or expression. There surely is no engine-driver +who does not feel the beauty of the business, but the emotion lies deep, +and mainly inarticulate, as it does in the mind of a man who has +experienced a good and beautiful wife for many years. This driver's face +displayed nothing but the cool sanity of a man whose thought was buried +intelligently in his business. If there was any fierce drama in it, +there was no sign upon him. He was so lost in dreams of speed and +signals and steam, that one speculated if the wonder of his tempestuous +charge and its career over England touched him, this impassive rider of +a fiery thing. + +It should be a well-known fact that, all over the world, the engine- +driver is the finest type of man that is grown. He is the pick of the +earth. He is altogether more worthy than the soldier, and better than +the men who move on the sea in ships. He is not paid too much; nor do +his glories weight his brow; but for outright performance, carried on +constantly, coolly, and without elation, by a temperate, honest, clear- +minded man, he is the further point. And so the lone human at his +station in a cab, guarding money, lives, and the honor of the road, is a +beautiful sight. The whole thing is aesthetic. The fireman presents the +same charm, but in a less degree, in that he is bound to appear as an +apprentice to the finished manhood of the driver. In his eyes, turned +always in question and confidence toward his superior, one finds this +quality; but his aspirations are so direct that one sees the same type +in evolution. + +There may be a popular idea that the fireman's principal function is to +hang his head out of the cab and sight interesting objects in the +landscape. As a matter of fact, he is always at work. The dragon is +insatiate. The fireman is continually swinging open the furnace-door, +whereat a red shine flows out upon the floor of the cab, and shoveling +in immense mouthfuls of coal to a fire that is almost diabolic in its +madness. The feeding, feeding, feeding goes on until it appears as if it +is the muscles of the fireman's arms that are speeding the long train. +An engine running over sixty-five miles an hour, with 500 tons to drag, +has an appetite in proportion to this task. + +View of the clear-shining English scenery is often interrupted between +London and Crew by long and short tunnels. The first one was +disconcerting. Suddenly one knew that the train was shooting toward a +black mouth in the hills. It swiftly yawned wider, and then in a moment +the engine dived into a place inhabitated by every demon of wind and +noise. The speed had not been checked, and the uproar was so great that +in effect one was simply standing at the center of a vast, black-walled +sphere. The tubular construction which one's reason proclaimed had no +meaning at all. It was a black sphere, alive with shrieks. But then on +the surface of it there was to be seen a little needle-point of light, +and this widened to a detail of unreal landscape. It was the world; the +train was going to escape from this cauldron, this abyss of howling +darkness. If a man looks through the brilliant water of a tropical pool, +he can sometimes see coloring the marvels at the bottom the blue that +was on the sky and the green that was on the foliage of this detail. And +the picture shimmered in the heat-rays of a new and remarkable sun. It +was when the train bolted out into the open air that one knew that it +was his own earth. + +Once train met train in a tunnel. Upon the painting in the perfectly +circular frame formed by the mouth there appeared a black square with +sparks bursting from it. This square expanded until it hid everything, +and a moment later came the crash of the passing. It was enough to make +a man lose his sense of balance. It was a momentary inferno when the +fireman opened the furnace door and was bathed in blood-red light as he +fed the fires. + +The effect of a tunnel varied when there was a curve in it. One was +merely whirling then heels over head, apparently in the dark, echoing +bowels of the earth. There was no needle-point of light to which one's +eyes clung as to a star. + +From London to Crew, the stern arm of the semaphore never made the train +pause even for an instant. There was always a clear track. It was great +to see, far in the distance, a goods train whooping smokily for the +north of England on one of the four tracks. The overtaking of such a +train was a thing of magnificent nothing for the long-strided engine, +and as the flying express passed its weaker brother, one heard one or +two feeble and immature puffs from the other engine, saw the fireman +wave his hand to his luckier fellow, saw a string of foolish, clanking +flat-cars, their freights covered with tarpaulins, and then the train +was lost to the rear. + +The driver twisted his wheel and worked some levers, and the rhythmical +chunking of the engine gradually ceased. Gliding at a speed that was +still high, the train curved to the left, and swung down a sharp +incline, to move with an imperial dignity through the railway yard at +Rugby. There was a maze of switches, innumerable engines noisily pushing +cars here and there, crowds of workmen who turned to look, a sinuous +curve around the long train-shed, whose high wall resounded with the +rumble of the passing express; and then, almost immediately, it seemed, +came the open country again. Rugby had been a dream which one could +properly doubt. At last the relaxed engine, with the same majesty of +ease, swung into the high-roofed station at Crewe, and stopped on a +platform lined with porters and citizens. There was instant bustle, and +in the interest of the moment no one seemed particularly to notice the +tired vermilion engine being led away. + +There is a five-minute stop at Crewe. A tandem of engines slip up, and +buckled fast to the train for the journey to Carlisle. In the meantime, +all the regulation items of peace and comfort had happened on the train +itself. The dining-car was in the center of the train. It was divided +into two parts, the one being a dining-room for first-class passengers, +and the other a dining-room for the third-class passengers. They were +separated by the kitchens and the larder. The engine, with all its +rioting and roaring, had dragged to Crewe a car in which numbers of +passengers were lunching in a tranquility that was almost domestic, on +an average menu of a chop and potatoes, a salad, cheese, and a bottle of +beer. Betimes they watched through the windows the great chimney-marked +towns of northern England. They were waited upon by a young man of +London, who was supported by a lad who resembled an American bell-boy. +The rather elaborate menu and service of the Pullman dining-car is not +known in England or on the Continent. Warmed roast beef is the exact +symbol of a European dinner, when one is traveling on a railway. + +This express is named, both by the public and the company, the "Corridor +Train," because a coach with a corridor is an unusual thing in England, +and so the title has a distinctive meaning. Of course, in America, where +there is no car which has not what we call an aisle, it would define +nothing. The corridors are all at one side of the car. Doors open thence +to little compartments made to seat four, or perhaps six, persons. The +first-class carriages are very comfortable indeed, being heavily +upholstered in dark, hard-wearing stuffs, with a bulging rest for the +head. The third-class accommodations on this train are almost as +comfortable as the first-class, and attract a kind of people that are +not usually seen traveling third-class in Europe. Many people sacrifice +their habit, in the matter of this train, to the fine conditions of the +lower fare. + +One of the feats of the train is an electric button in each compartment. +Commonly an electric button is placed high on the side of the carriage +as an alarm signal, and it is unlawful to push it unless one is in +serious need of assistance from the guard. But these bells also rang in +the dining-car, and were supposed to open negotiations for tea or +whatever. A new function has been projected on an ancient custom. No +genius has yet appeared to separate these two meanings. Each bell rings +an alarm and a bid for tea or whatever. It is perfect in theory then +that, if one rings for tea, the guard comes to interrupt the murder, and +that if one is being murdered, the attendant appears with tea. At any +rate, the guard was forever being called from his reports and his +comfortable seat in the forward end of the luggage-van by thrilling +alarms. He often prowled the length of the train with hardihood and +determination, merely to meet a request for a sandwich. + +The train entered Carlisle at the beginning of twilight. This is the +border town, and an engine of the Caledonian Railway, manned by two men +of broad speech, came to take the place of the tandem. The engine of +these men of the North was much smaller than the others, but her cab was +much larger, and would be a fair shelter on a stormy night. They had +also built seats with hooks by which they hang them to the rail, and +thus are still enabled to see through the round windows without +dislocating their necks. All the human parts of the cab were covered +with oilcloth. The wind that swirled from the dim twilight horizon made +the warm glow from the furnace to be a grateful thing. + +As the train shot out of Carlisle, a glance backward could learn of the +faint, yellow blocks of light from the carriages marked on the dimmed +ground. The signals were now lamps, and shone palely against the sky. +The express was entering night as if night were Scotland. + +There was a long toil to the summit of the hills, and then began the +booming ride down the slope. There were many curves. Sometimes could be +seen two or three signal lights at one time, twisting off in some new +direction. Minus the lights and some yards of glistening rails, Scotland +was only a blend of black and weird shapes. Forests which one could +hardly imagine as weltering in the dewy placidity of evening sank to the +rear as if the gods had bade them. The dark loom of a house quickly +dissolved before the eyes. A station with its lamps became a broad +yellow band that, to a deficient sense, was only a few yards in length. +Below, in a deep valley, a silver glare on the waters of a river made +equal time with the train. Signals appeared, grew, and vanished. In the +wind and the mystery of the night, it was like sailing in an enchanted +gloom. The vague profiles of hills ran like snakes across the somber +sky. A strange shape boldly and formidably confronted the train, and +then melted to a long dash of track as clean as sword-blades. + +The vicinity of Glasgow is unmistakable. The flames of pauseless +industries are here and there marked on the distance. Vast factories +stand close to the track, and reaching chimneys emit roseate flames. At +last one may see upon a wall the strong reflection from furnaces, and +against it the impish and inky figures of workingmen. A long, prison- +like row of tenements, not at all resembling London, but in one way +resembling New York, appeared to the left, and then sank out of sight +like a phantom. + +At last the driver stopped the brave effort of his engine The 400 miles +were come to the edge. The average speed of forty-nine and one-third +miles each hour had been made, and it remained only to glide with the +hauteur of a great express through the yard and into the station at +Glasgow. + +A wide and splendid collection of signal lamps flowed toward the engine. +With delicacy and care the train clanked over some switches, passes the +signals, and then there shone a great blaze of arc-lamps, defining the +wide sweep of the station roof. Smoothly, proudly, with all that vast +dignity which had surrounded its exit from London, the express moved +along its platform. It was the entrance into a gorgeous drawing-room of +a man that was sure of everything. + +The porters and the people crowded forward. In their minds there may +have floated dim images of the traditional music-halls, the bobbies, the +'buses, the 'Arrys and 'Arriets, the swells of London. + +THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Men, Women, and Boats, by Stephen Crane + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN, WOMEN, AND BOATS *** + +This file should be named 8mnwm10.txt or 8mnwm10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8mnwm11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8mnwm10a.txt + +Produced by John Bilderback, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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