The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1899-10-25
A LOST SOUL.

A LOST SOUL.
"HOw now, Hontio! you tremble and look
pale;
Is not this son thing more tnan fantasy9
What think you ont F'-( Hamlet
1t was a chance remark, and one that
is often made concerning an intelligent
animal, but its effect upon my friend
Sidney Darrow was singular.
His shoulders twitched nervously,
and his hand went up to bis throat as
though something choked him.
have a large English msstif' that
call WOdan. A moment before he had
left his accustomed place on the rug in
one corner of the room and had come
TO my side to receive the csress which
at intervals through the day be seems
to find necessary to his happiness. AS
I smOothed his wrinkled forehead and
patted his soft, large ears, / observed
with what trustful affection bis great
eyes beamed upon me.
It was then that / remarked to sgd
ney Darrow, who sat near at hand,
carelessly watching US through the
smoke Of his pipe:
"Does it not seem to you sometimes
that Wodan has very human look ?'
And my friend made answer with
the peculiar motions which have des-
cribed.
Wodan left my side and walked
slowly back to his rug. Darrow v atch-
ed his movements with half closed
eyes, his hand still clutching his throat.
When the dog had lain down, my
friend turned his gaze upon me.
Don't don't ever say that about
Wodan again! 1t will make me hate
him"
He was plainly much stirred, and
the seriousness of his appeal was not to
be doubted.
Presently, before was ready 10 make
any reply, he separated the heavy
beard that covered his chin and neck,
disclosing a deep, zigzag scar.
"See here" he said, II never showed
you this"
"What made it-a burn?"
"NO. Let me tell you the story"
There was period Of my life, some
years ago, that 1 spent on my uncle's
ranch near San Juan Capistrano. At
that time the raising of sheep was one
of the chief industries Of Southern Cal
ifornia, and much of the land in our
vicinity was devoted to pasturage.
About half a mile from my uncle's
house, in lonely canyon, stood the
hut Of herder-built Of adobe, repOls-
i've without, cherries within, grim and
squalid, yet in every way so well suited
to its solitary inhabitant that one might
think he had constructed it about HIM
self, as the nautilus does his shell. He
was a tall, hard-visaged Basque, with
a great, shaggy, black beard, haggard
features, and eyes that you could not
look into without shudder. Do you
understand what mean? He vas one
of those wild beasts of men whose faces
seen but once live always in your men,
ory, and when sleep will not come,
they show themselves-bodiless masks
as they are-through your tightly-clos-
ed eyelids.
The trail OF the canyon passed with
in few yards of the hut, and my du-
ties-I assisted my uncle in the man.
agtm mt of the raneh-frequently led
me in that direction. When not away
on the hillside with his flock of sheep,
the herder usually stood or squatted
motiOnless in front of his hOvel. A few
feet away from him crouched his dog.
Toe pair, man and beast, stared at me
from the moment came in sight until
passed among the live oaks beyond,
making no movement, save a slow
turning of the head, and offering no
response to my salutation. At last l
came TO pass them in silence, but never
without a vague sense Of dread.
| learned from the men on my un-
cle's ranch that the Basque was consid-
cred queer, or, as they expressed Ii,
'locOed." They said he was in the
habit of talking to his dog as though
it were a man, and that even his fellow
cOuntrymen avoided him.
Crazy he may have been; a drunk
ard he certainly was. AT frequent in
tervals he appeared in the town with
large, black demijohn, which he car
ried away filed with liquor of the sort
that makes maniacs.
One afternoon as l came down the
canyon / heard the yelping of dog,
and, approaching the hu; of the Basque,
beheId a sight that filed me with an
ger and distress.
The fellow had hung up the dog by
the hind legs against the side Of the
house, and was beating him with S
stick.
did not stop to think much Of con-