Daily inter mountain. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1881-1901, 1901-01-31

5 4 POOL IN TIE OzARkS, )
!s BY Hilbert Biselew Payne, =:
BY Hilbert Biselew Payne.



Copyright, 1900: Daily Story Pub. Coz
1t was the afternoon of melan-
choly day in October. The clouds hung
low over the mountains, and the sun
mad been never more than a pellucid
spot in a monotone of sombre gray.
Since early morning 1 had been fol-
lowing on horseback narrow AMI
circuitous bride path, which seemed
to have no diverging branches, but led
me surely and toilsomely up the barren
declivities OF the Ozark range. The sere
and stunted vegetation, the open spaces
covered with black boulders, the lowe.
ing skies-these things oppressed and
sadGened me. What sort of cheer await
ed me at my journeys end l was at d
loss to guess.
Three days before I had set out in
response to an invitation from an old
school friend and companion; an in
vitation that was in the nature of a
command, for it's urgent and piteous
necessity admitted no denial. Almost
wildly Richard Macomber had pleaded
his longing for companionship, limiting
vaguely at some mental torture. preying
upon his life. He had ended by insist
ing that come to him for the sake of
our former friendship. l had consented
to do so at last, If only to induce him
to abandon the solitude where for more
than five years he had voluntarily
cluded himself as a sort of penance for
having, within a few months after leav
ing college, wasted in gambling and
other feverish speculation the immense
fortune wiled him by his parents. He
had been an unusually hghtheartel
youth. 1t seemed evident to me that
his designations and subsequent hermit
tage had affected him most unhapply.
Nor was | mistaken. No mere lapse
OF time could have wrought the havoc
that confronted me when, somewhat
later, 1 turned into an open space and
rode up to the door of the rude cabin
where my old school fellow stood wait
ing to receive me. AS l regarded him
tried not to express the alarm l felt
but to appear as in the old days. 1t was
impossible to do so. and unnecessary;
for after our first greetings, during
which he was visiDly moved, he lapsed
into long silences. and seemed at times
hardly to remember my existence. His
one servant. an aged colored man, silent
~ provided us with food. answering only
when spoken to. Being much worn in
body by my long journey I retired early
and slept soundly, though once during
the night I was awakened by hearing
Richard walking the floor in the room
next to mine.
I became constantly more uneasy for
my friend as the days passed. 1 be-
lieved him to be suffering through
some mental arrangement which was
being distressingly aggravated in this
silent and lonely place. He was pale
and emaciated. and there was a hunted
nervous movement of his eyes and
hands. These things affected me. and
grew miserably uncomfortable, oc-
cupying myself almost altogether with
books. of which there seemed to be a
great many in the cabin. though Rich
ard himself rarely opened one.
One day I inquired him if there
was any fishing in the neighbOrhood.
He at first shook his head. then, as if
there was. There was a sort of lake,
he said, not far away from which some
thing large. something very large, he
was sure might be taken. He had never
caught anything there himself. but he
knew the place we'll. Oh. yes. he knew
it well-very well-he could direct me
so 1 could not miss it. No-he would
not go along. Oh no-Oh, no-not that
he would not do that, but he would
show me-he would point the way, and
he would have old Joe look me up q
hook and line That night. very late
I heard him leave the house. had
an impulse to follow him. but did not
do so. In about an hour he returned
and walked the floor until daylight.
Immediately after breakfast the ole
negro brought me a piece Of cord, sucl
as carpenters use for a chalk line, ant