The Press., 1898-07-07
HIS TIME HAD COME.

They were five, with the guide, snug
~ camped up in the. forests Of the
Rangeley country, and the days sport
had been trifie heavy if empty. They
had done long tramp. The broad fire.
place yawned cracking comfort. There
was soothing punch OH the table and our
pipes were drawing well. The talk had
drifted to casualty and fatality and to
the exchange of views upon the hair
breadth line which divides the chance
of life from that of death in peculiar
cases.
The guide told of young fellow who
had been literally frightened to his
death few years before by the onrush
of a big bull moose which he had wound
ed with his last cartridge The brute
had been knocked over by shot from
the guide before it reached the boy, who,
though unmarked by scar, through
simple terror had lost his hold upon the
spark of life. Instances were named
where a fall of few inches had brought
death, and others where men had fallen
distances of so or so feet only to get
up and walk off unframed.
The doctor had been a silent listener
to all this talk and sat gazing into the
glowing Goals until our stories were
ended. Suddenly he went to his shake
down, and from beneath it drew an old
and weather beaten satchel, from which,
after some search, he took an envelope
and returned to his chair.
"My theory is, boys, that man lives
until his times up, and no longer, and
that it makes little or no difference in
his length of life what he does or doesn t
do. seldom air this theory In fact, I
don It generally like to speak of death,
an experience which strangely bears out
my theory and which lies many years
back.
IT had just fairly settled into the
business left me by an OLD practitioner
in small mountain town in Vermont.
It was not town of wealth or great
mortality, and I was not busy man.
Still, my reading kept me occupied for
the most part, and had just enough of
outside work to give me exercise and
maintenance. Even then / had formed
Opinions and read widely upon the doc
trine generally referred to as fatalism.
had observed nothing which contro-
verted my ideas, while there had come
to me much in their support. Early on
blustery, stormy evening was loung
ing in my easy chair before roaring
fire, bordering over a very strange dep
osition which l had just read, when
my thought was interrupted by the
sound of wheels and moment later
there was a determined knock on the
door, and l opened up. A quarryman
whom I knew by sight was my caller.
For Gods sake, doc, he said,
come over with me to the quarry and
help Big Griggs out OF his misery. He's
got tampinC iron clean up through his
head.
81 got my case, slid ito heavy coat
and we were off. The overlook quarry
wa six miles distant and during the
drive gathered particulars Big Griggs
had been drilling for heavy blast all
afternoon, and had loaded for an early
morning firing just before the knock off.
He had been tamping down the powder
charge, short time had made him care
less and there was premature explo-
sion. The tamping iron had been driven
up through both jaws and through the
top of the Uranium 81 IL remained in
the wound. ment...y concluded that
my driver was eitni drawing the tale
o'erstrong through excess of excitement
or else that there would be no need of
my services when we reached the pa
tent