The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1885-02-13
Rap, rap, rap!

Messagliere Street. ii you don't come,
my granddaughter will be without q
father, my daughter without a husband
and myself without q son!"
1t was h~eartrending and horrible to
hear the old bag's voice, and to think
thatthe wind froze the bloodin her veins,
and drenched the very bones under her
skin.
GA fit, say you? The fee two hun
dred fretzers," rejoined the heartless
leech.
eve have but one hundred and
twenty"
Good night. then!" And once more
the window was closed.
On second thoughts, however, he
came to the conclusion that, for an hours
trot and half All hours attendance, one
hundred and twenty fretzers made sixty
fretzers OIL hour-one fretzer a minute!
1t was small profit at best. but not quite
to be despised.
So, instead OF getting into bed, the
doctor Slipped himself into his velvet
suit, hurried down stairs in o pair of
thick waterproof boots, muffled him
self up in a large %oyercoat, put on his
gloves and o u'wester, and, leaving the
lamp lighted on the table near his Codex
opened ut page 1877, pushed open the
door of the Si1-Four, and appeared on
the threshold.
The old crone was there, leaning on q
stick, her frame emaciated by eighty
years of misery.
"The money!" said he.
"Here; and may God return it o hun
bred fold!"
"God?-the money of God? Has any
one seen its color?"
The doctor whistled Hurzof, put q
small lantern in the dogs mouth, and
bent his steps toward tile sea. The old
hag trudged on behind:
Good heavens, what weather! The
bells Of Saint Philflene sway to and
fro under the headlong fury of the
storm, an ominous portent, as we know.
But Doctor Trifulgus eschews oil su-
perstitious notions. The fact is, he
believes in nothing at all, not even his
own science-e1cept for what il brings
him in. What weather, to be sure, and
what a road! Nothing but shingle and
slag-the shingle slippery like sea-weed
and the Stag crisp as clinker. And no
other light to see by than q tremulous
flicker from Hurzof's lantern. At times
strange fantastic figures seemed to
toss in the flames that swell from the
mouth of the Vanglor. There is really
no telling what lies at the bottom Of
those inscrutable craters. Perhaps the
souls of the underworld, that yolatilize
on reaching our atmosphere.
The doctor and the old bag followed
the line of coast that runs in and out Of
the small bays along the shore. The
sea is ofa livid Wilderness, and sparkles
as its pillows hurtle the phosphores-
cent fringe of surf that seems to pour
wave on wave of glow worms upon tho
beach.
Thus both rush on till they reach q
bend in the road between two swelling
downs. where the broom and sea-rushes
clash their blades together, like SO
many bayonets.
The dog has drawn nearer to his mas
ter. and seems to say:
SWELL, what think you? A hundred
and twenty fretzers to place under lock
and key in the safe! That's the way to
build up q fortune! TITS another piece
Of ground added to the vine e%nclosurel
Another dish added to the evening
meal! Another bowl Of food for fnith-
full Hurzof! Nothing like attending
rich patients and loosening their purse
strings"
At this point the old woman stopped.
She directed o finger, which shook like
age, toward a red light some way off in
the gloom-the house of Wort Kartif,
the cracknel-maker.
There" laconically put in the doc
tor.
Yes" responded the crone.
just then the Vanglor, vibrating to
its foundations with q noise like thun-
der, threw up o mass of fuliglnous
fame, that mounted to the zenith and
rent the clouds. Doctor Trifulgas was
thrown to the ground by the force Of
the conclusion. Regaining his footing
he swore like a Christian, and looked
around. The beldam was gone. She
must have fallen through some deep
crevasse in the ground, or taken fight
on the floating fog-clouds OF ocean.
The dog, however was still there, up.
right on his launches, his mouth wide
open, and the light of the lantern blown,
out.
"Never mind; let's go on" mumbled
Doctor Trifulgas. Tho honest man has
pocketed the n hundred and twenty
~fretzers, and must needs earn them.
A solitary light is alone visible in the
distance half a kertse away. It is
doubtless the lamp of the dying, or,
%perchance, dead man. and yonder must
be the cracknel- makers house. There
can be no mistake, the old bag pointed
IL out. And SO saying, with the noise
of the storm in his ears, DR..
Trifuldas hurries on toward the
house, which, standing alone in the
midst Of a wide heath, is more distinct
ly percept,ble as the wayfarer ap-
proaehes.
1t is q singular and noteworthy fact
to observe how mnch the house Of the
cracknel.maker looks like the doctors
Six-Four, at Luktrop; there is the same
arrangement in the front windows, and
the little vaulted door at the side.
Doctor Trifulgas strides on as fast as
the driving gusts Of wind and rain will
permit. He reaches the door, which is
ajar, pushes it open, enters, ana the
blast closes it behind him with a bang.
The dog outside howls or is silent, BY
turns, like choristers chanting the vers-
es of q Forty Hours psalm.
How very strange! One might al
most be led to suppose that Doctor
Trifnlgas had come back to his own
house. But this can not be. He took