The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1899-04-21

eled carriage and the golden head OF
the woman within, all apparently just
as I had left them eight months and one
fortnight ago! For an instant I fancied
that Kitty must see what I saw-we
We're SO marvelously sympathetic in all
things. Her next words undeceived me.
mot a soul in sightl Come along,
Jack, and I'll race you to the reservoir
buildings!" Her wiry little Arab was
off like bird, my waller following close
behind, and in this order we dashed I'M
der the cliffs. Half minute brought us
within so yards of the rickshaw. 1
pulled my waller and fell back little.
The rickshaw was directly in the mid
die of the road, and once more the Arab
passed through it, my horse following.
"Jack, Jack, dear Please forgive me r.
rang with wall in my ears and, after
an interval, ssIt's all a mistake, hid
eous mistaken
spurred my horse like man pos
sessed When turned my head at the
reservoir works, the black and white
liveries were still waiting patiently
waiting Under the gray hillside, and
the wind brought me hooking echo of
the words had just heard. Kitty ban
tered me a good deal on my silence
throughout the remainder of the ride.
had been talking up till then wildly ard
at random. To save my life could not
speak afterward naturally and from
Sanjowlie to the church wisely held lay
tongue
was to dine with the Mannerings
that night and had barely time to can
ter home to dress. On the road to Ely
stun hill overheard two men talking
together in the dusk. ''It's curious
thing" said one, chow completely all
trace of it disappeared. You know my
wife was insanely fond of the woman
never could see anything in her myself
and wanted me to pick up her Old
rickshaw and coolies if they were to be
got for love OF money. Morbid sort of
fancy call it, but I've got to do
what the memsahib tells me. Would
you believe,that the man she hired it
from tells men that all four of the men
they were brothers-died of cholera
on the way to Hardwar, poor devils,
and the rickshaw has been broken up
by the man himself? Told me he never
used dead memsahib's rickshaw.
Spoiled his luck Queer notion, wasn't
it? Fancy poor little Mrs. Washington
spelling any ones luck except her
own!" laughed aloud at this point,
and my laugh Jared on me as uttered
it. So there were ghosts of rickshaws,
after ALL and ghostly employments in
the other world! How much did Mrs.
washington give her men? What were
their hours? Where did they go?
And for visible answer to my last
question saw the internal thing block
ing my path in the twilight. The dead
travel fast and by short cuts unknown
to ordinary coolies laughed aloud a
second time and checked my laughter
suddenly, for was afraid was going
mad. Mad to certain extent must
have been, for recollect that / refined
in my horse at the head of the rick
shaw and politely wished Mrs. Messing
ton Good evening. Her answer was
one knew only too we'll. I listened to
the end and replied that had heard it
all before, but should be delighted if
she had anything further to say. Some
malignant devil stronger than must
have entered into me that evening, for
l have dim recollection of talking the
commonplace of the day for five min
utes to the thing i'll front of me-
"Mad as halter, poor devil, or
drunk Max. try and get him to come
home.'
Surely that was not Mrs. Messing.
toms voicel The two men had over
heard me speaking to the empty air and
had returned to look after me. They
were very kind and considerable, and
from their words evidently gathered
that l was extremely drunk 1 thanked
them confusedly and cantered away to
my hotel there changed and arrived at
the Mannerings' ten minutes late l
pleaded the darkness of the night as an
excuse, was rebuked by Kitty for my
unloverlike hardness and sat down.
The conversation had already become
general, and under cover of it l was
addressing some tender small talk to
my sweetheart when / was aware that
at the farther end of the table short
red whiskered man was describing, with
much broidery. his encounter with a
mad unknown that evening.
A few sentences convinced me that
he was repeating the incident of half
an hour ago. In the middle of the story
he looked round for applause, as profess
sional story tellers do, caught my eye
and straightway collapsed. There was
a moments awkward silence, and the
red whiskered man muttered something
to the effect that he had forgotten the
rest, !" thereby sacrificing a reputation
as a good story teller which he had
built up for six seasons past. I blessed
him from the bottom Of my heart and
went on with my fish.
In the fullness of time that dinner
came to an end, and with genuine re-