The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-07-31
THE OUTCAST.

going or why he was going or where ne
would stop. BE was just going That
was all
1t was long time since he had started
"a long time. And 1t was long time
since he had been man. He was only an
Outcast, only-oh, no, no; he was a man
still, and good man at that. Why should
he work when others wouIdn't2 Why
shouldn't he be a loafer if he wanted tor
Why shouldn't he rob as well as the rich
robbed? Why everything
He was walking in the middle of the
railway track The rails were STRETCHING
and cleaning in the hard sunlight. Before
him, behind him, to his right, to his left,
was the prairie-a great, lone plain.
What strange place it was, this prairie
the very outside of the world Nothing
but grass-grass everywhere. And a blue
sky that became dark and hard when the
eye looked straight up into it. Sky, steel,
grassl
And silence, watching grim silence that
held within it something threatening,
something that was here, there, every.
where, that lowered about him, that lay
off in the distance, that was by his side,
that was up over his head He could feel
this thing was about just as surely as be
could see the sky and the grass and TIE
rails between which he was walking
he was SO alone, so away from every
thing. True, something was here, but il
was something outside himself. 1t was
not akin to him. 1t was something he
could not understand, something to fear,
thing unreal.
Being here was worse than being in the
cell of a prison. There at least things that
were real were near one, if only the dark.
ness and the bars. Voices were there, ii
only the harsh, cold voices of the warders.
He had often thought when he was in
prison what fine thing it would be to get
out into the free open air, to get right out
on the outside of everything. Well, he was
on the outside of everything here, and he
felt afraid.
For how was it that he never seemed tc
get any farther? He was walking, always
walking, and still he made no Roadway,
or at least he appeared to make no head.
way. He had been going on for five days.
He was as far now as when he started
Here was the same sky, the same grass,
the same clear, sharp horizon. Perhaps he
was not moving at all.
All he had It'll He was moving all right
but he was moving only in one place
That was it, sure enough. The sky, the
grass, the horizon moved from him as he
moved. To hi with it ALL Things were
playing a game with him.
He was hungry, but he had gone past
the stage where hunger gnaws. He felt
Hghtness and ease in his power of move
nent 1t would be easy for him to jump
over places or to run or to carry heavy
weights or to fight. His senses were worked
up to high pitch He could see better.
He could hear
Oh, yes, he could hear very much better,
for now he noticed that the prairie was
filed with sound, an odd sort of low sound
that lay in the depths of the watching ST
lence. He was trying to think what thia
sound was.
1t was sound lying in dead silence. II
pvad afbinc- n oO171d If Ia that, "A
was
He smiled.
Sixty hours had gone by since he had
eaten his Last piece of bread.
He would never eat bread again perhaps
Well, what of it? He felt better without it.
Bread was hard to get, after all. Every
body wanted to get it. Everybody grasped
after it. They said that they were grasp
ing after gold, but really they were grasp
ing after bread. You had to be a slave to
get bread. You had to be rObber to get
bread. You had so sell, humiliate and de-
grade yourself to get bread.
Bread, bread, bread!
And now he wanted it not. He felt bet
ter without it. He was here in the middle
of the terrible sounding silence because OF
the struggle for it. Breadl You had to kill
yourself that you might get it and live.
Breadl You had to work the life out to
keep the life in. But still
''Cheer uPP' said a voice. He started. It
was distinctly a voice, a voice behind him
"a sneering voice.
He did not look around. 1t could not be
any one, because if it were any one he
would have known of it long ago Besides,
there was no sound.
He walked faster.
But it might be a man. But, then, If it
were a man he would have heard. He
would have known of it long ago.
The sun was hot, but he felt cold. Oh, If
he could only look arcundl But what was
the use of his looking around? 1t was
nothing but a voice after all. And who
could see a voice? Besides, the prairie was
full of sound-that dead sound.
The best thing for him to do was to pay
no heed. 1t could not be man, and it
could not be a ghost, for ghosts don't
come in the broad glare of sunlight.
What was it then? Just voice. But if
no one were there, there could be no voice.
He had heard nothing after all.
He felt relieved to find that the whole
thing was only the working of his mind,
but he was nervous for all that, and he
walked more quickly.
And now he remembered that he was
walking from the west to the east. He was
going from the setting to the rising sun
going to the east whence came the glori-
Ous kindly light.
In the east there lay the calnness and
rest of death, or, perhaps, life and chance
for achievement and forgetfulness In the
west there lay the cell of the prison and
despair and black, terrible memories.
He was surrounded now by silence and
phaBtons. He was an outcast The hun
ger ghoul stalked by his side.
He was going from crime-frOm crime
to what?
And the great prairie was widening out
before him
He moved on.
On.-Bart Kennedy in London Sun.
Hard and Soft Coal.
A simple characterization of the differ