The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1899-08-01

al his calculation, he completed ten of
these revolutions a minute.
Upon one occasion the professor
called upon him, and Warren shouted:
Thief theft give me back my
watchl''
The old man retreated hastily, and
now the patient was visited by no one
but the servant, who contented himself
with knocking upon the door and leav-
ing the tray of food outside.
Warren was growing insane He be-
gan TO fear himself, but what he dreaded
most was the loss of time. To Warren
time was a deity, alternately worshiped,
entreated and feared.
Summer had passed without any Wis
ible change in his condition. His friends
were hopeful still, and the professor,
although reticent, expressed his belief /
in the ultimate success of the rest cure.
Warren had become Indifferent TO
everything but his task. The walls OF
his room were defaced with knife cuts;
there remained only an inch of space
\ upon which to mark his interminable
hieroglyphics. Observing this, he be-
gan to argue with himself where he
might begin anew. He shook his head
sadly.
"Only an INCH" he muttered.
Then he sprang up, and, seeing
knife, began to work industriously.
/ One, two, three, then up to 60, then
60 again, and SO on until the space was
completely covered. He was in despair.
Suddenly a brilliant idea occurred to
/ him. He gathered up the rugs, rolled
them together and tossed them out OF
the window. Then he began to cut
marks on the floor. Frequently weary
and bending, his knees calious, his
hands shaking, he would fail asleep,
and wake only to continue his task.
Day and night became alike to him.
Finally the floor was covered. What
was he to do now? AS the problem
confronted him the mailman wept tears
of despair. He sat for some time
crouched beneath a window, then. a
slow smile difused itself over his face.
He tore away his sleeve, ard, barring his
arm, pricked his skin with the point OF
the knife. He counted aloud as he did
so, while the blood trickled from the
wound. Then the mailman grew elated;
there would remain yet another arm,
after that the legs, finally the chest.
His fingers were clotted with blood
as he worked eagerly. tattooing arms
and legs In the silence of the room he
heard a familiar sound. 1t resembled
the ticking of clock. He paused twice
to listen. Yes, he was not mad; no one
could mistake the steady stick, tick"
: A clock, He sprang 10 his feet, the
. knife gathering upon the floor. 4
clock, Where was 1t? He dashed about
the room. He could see nothing-ths
clock was hidden. Still steadily sound
: ed the tick, tick" Always at the same
distance, no nearer, no further.
lie remembered watch that he HAD
), carried when boy; a silver gift watcl
q given him by his father.
i He felt his pocket. Perhaps it wa
/ there now. No, his pocket was empty
d He bent his head over his left shoulder
listening intently. Then he cried alou'
in delight.
,e He had found the clock. It was there
L where his heart had once benin hi
body, on the left side. How loud
; tickedl He held his coat over it t
!! muffle the sound that seemed to pene
e trate the walls. With his nails he du
into the flesh. striving to tear from
the precious timepiece.
ie Tick, tick"
~ Heavensl How time was passing
- He struck his chest fiercely. With tn
movement he stepped backward. AS h
10 did so his foot struck something. II
le looked down and saw the knife. The
ls he was calm. Tick, tick" went tn
y clock, but the sound troubled him n
rs longer. In a moment he would see tn
IN white dial, the black hands movin
H. slowly and that other hand that twirle
le away the seconds. Once again he woul
be master of time. not its slave.
"a He stopped and picked up the knit
n It's edge was ragged where he ha
Is forced it into the walls. He moved til
re fingers of his right hand carefully alon
n his side, until he felt that they reste
IN directly above the clock
IS. Tick. tick"
Ct The point of the knife met the SCUM
and silenced it.-Chicago Times-Hel
es aid.
- rnurnrxy CONTINUITY (T-xyrrycr-