Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1888-12-12
But his work lives after him.

may still win the prize
Roy felt as II the voice came from
without, and turned and looked about
him. He saw the rolled up picture
lying on the table, and thought there
could be no harm In taking one more
look. He stretched it upon the easel,
and gazed at It with envy and delight.
After all. it would harm no one, he
thought. Il would have done anything
for him-living. / would not have
deserted him on a barren island or
thrown him to wolvesi 1 would not
save myself In any way at his expense.
But now, if / can save myself without
inJuring HIM, why not?'
And then commenced one of those
unseen battles on the battle ground OF
the human heart, where no banners
wave nor trumpet sounds tell of victory
no muffied drum OF defeat, but where
the destinies of souls are ofttimes de-
cided, and all is lost or won for time
and eternityl
So three days passed, and one day.
impelled by an irresistible force, Roy
turned into the street where Lang had
his humble room. But as he reached
the corner he saw a coffin borne out,
and turned shudderingly away. 1t was
all over, then He could do his friend
no harm, even if he won the prize
through himl
Roy painted no more his Ineffective
pictures. Each day he gloated instead
over the magical island, with its wind
swept ferns, its lambert skies and
luminous air. Each day he looked
into the blue eyes of the island queen,
and felt assured of his own triumph.
1t was time of fever and unrest till
the final day, when, mounted N a
frame that had cost his very last franc,
he sent the picture to the judges and
sat down to wait. He pawned his
watch and lived upon the proceeds
while he waited. He did not sleep
well any more, mis- old buoyancy had
deserted him.
He took a step forward. There was
time, and he would save himself yet.
What matter If chaos came afterward?
He would have done his duty. But
how could he face those ranks OF spec
tators and tell his crime? He faltered
and fell back-it was too late. He
heard hum OF voices. Some one was
speaking, but he could not distinguish
the words. He did not know till some
one pushed him forward, and a voice
said In his ear:
Look alive, old fellowl 1t is your
name they are calling. Your picture
has taken the prize, and no wonder.
How you have blossomed out. It's no
more your old style
Roy felt himself pushed over toward
the platform. Was there no help?
He made a strong effort to speak as
he met the smiling faces on every hand.
st is not mine,' be managed to say.
There is mistake
a great burden seemed to roll away
| from him at these words. He could
lift his head once more among hi:
fellow menl He was no longer a per
| iured cheati
A murmur rose on every side. What
did it all mean? The professors stared
at him and at one another.
what does it mean, then? Why art
you here? Let the painter of Mirands
come forward and claim the prize
YOU'RE fading away, my boy on,
of his fellow painters said, on meeting
him the morning OF the decision. 'AnC
what has become of your chump HI
was always ethereal. Has he sailed
away like thistle down on a puff o.
wind? 1 thought he was painting TO
the prizeP'
guilty flush on his face, but sickness
and
Your place, messieurs, cried sterl
voice, and Roy felt relieved.
He was trembling, nevertheless. II
felt giddy, as one who stands on tn
verge of a precipice. He stood by
window and could catch a glimpse Of
blue sky, and one fieecy, wind swep
cloud. Could any one look down from
those shining battIementsP he wonderet
with a vague shIver. Could one know
the griefs and joys, the temptation
and tIiumphs of those left behindP Hi
head seemed in a whirl, as If hundre,
wheels were turning there. He longe'
to stop 1t all for 4 moment that Ii
might think.
Roy shuddered. From what pal
ranks of disemboiied spirits would the
call back the artist of the priZeI
IL Will explain lie began.
But the words were frozen on hi
lips, for before HIM, pale, gaunter tha
ever, hollow eyed, purple Tipped, wit
slow and wavering steps, he saw hi
friend appear.
Il am herer hollow voice said nes
him. Il was ill, and my friend sen
the picture for me.
Roy heard no more. The excitemen
of the past SIX weeks had done thei
work. at that voice from the dead
for so it seemed, he staggered and fell
When he came back to his senses
Lang bent over him kindly.
You're all right now, old fellow h
said. L ought to have given you warn
ing. Pm Just able to be OUT
Don't take my hand. am a swim
dler," cried Roy. "You don't know.
meant
But you didn't You were brave a
the last, in the face of ALL 1 say you ar
a trump. Come, never speak of
again. Let US take d studio together
and I'll stand the expense out of til
prize, till you do something really good
Work will do it, old fellow
Roy did succeed at last. His battl
. had taught him something.