The Washington times., 1901-09-01

when got home about sundown, brought
with me half a dozen delicious black bass
, for the supper table and the larder
As sleep was an important matter to me
at this time. l had decided that if my
aversion to the room was 30 strongly
marked on my return as it had been be-
fore, 1 would move my bed down into the
sitting-room, and sleep there. This was, l
argued, in no sense a concession to an
absurd and fanciful fear. but simply a
precaution to insure a good nights sleep.
, A bad night involved the loss of the next
days reading-a loss / was not prepared
to incur.
i ] accordingly moved my bed downstairs
into a corner of the sitting-room facing
the door and was moreover uncommoniy
, glad when the operation was completed,
and the door of the bedroom closed finally
upon the shadows. the silence, and the
strange fear that shared the room with
them.
The croaking stroke of the kitchen clock
sounded the hour of s as l finished wash
ing up my few dishes. and closing the
kitchen door behind me. passed into the
front room. All the lamps were lit, and
their refectors, which l had polished up
during the day threw blaze of light into
the room.
Not breath of air was stirring; the
! waves We're silent, the trees motionless;
and heavy clouds hung like an oppressive
curtain over the heavens. The darkness
| seemed to have rolled up with unusual
! swiftness, and not the faintest glow of
color remained to show where the sun had
set. There was present in the atmosphere
! that ominous and overwhelming silence
which so often precedes the most violent
| storms.
/ 1 sat down to my books with my brain
| unusually clear, and in my heart the
pleasant satisfaction of knowing that five
black bass We're lying in the ice house,
and that tomorrow morning the old farm
er would arrive with fresh bread and eggs
1 was soon absorbed in my books.
AS the night wore on the silence deepen
ed. Even the chipmunks were still; and
the boards of the floors and walls ceased
creaking 1 read on steadily till, from the
/ gloomy shadows of the kitchen, came the
hoarse sound of the clock striking 9. How
loud the strokes sounded; They were like
! blows of big hammer. / closed one book
and opened another, feeling that 1 was
| just warming up to my work
This however, did not last long. l pres
! emily found that l was reading the same
! paragraphs over twice, simple paragraphs
| that did not require such effort. Then l
! noticed that my mind began to wander to
| other things, and the effort to recall my
thoughts became harder with each digres-
sion. Concentration was growing momen-
l'tariIy more difficult. Presently l discover
I ed that L had turfed two pages instead Of
| one and had not noticed my mistake until
l was well down the page. This was be-
coming serious. What was the disturbing
| influence? 1t could not be physical IA
tigue. On the contrary, my mind was unu-
suaIly alert, and IN a more receptive con-
dition than usual. / made new and de-
| termined effort to read, and for short
time succeeded in giving my whole atten-
tion to my subject But in very few
moments again / found myself leaning
back in my chair, staring vacantly into
space.
Something was evidently at work in my
.sub-consciousness. There was something
l had neglected to do. Perhaps the kitch-
en- door and windows were not fastened.
l accordingly went to see, and found that
they were: The fire perhaps needed atten-
I ton. / went to see, and. found that it was
all right, looked at the lamps, went up
stairs into every bedroom in turn, and
then went round the house, and even into
| the ice-house. Nothing was wrong; every
/ thing was in its place. Yet something was
wrong! The conviction grew stronger and
] stronger within me.
When l at length settled down to my
books again and tried to read, / became
[ .ware, for the first time, that the room
seemed growing cold. Yet the day had
been oppressively warm. and evening had
brought no relief. The six big lamps
moreover, gave out heat enough to warm
the room pleasantly. But chilliness. that
perhaps crept up from the lake, made it
self felt in the room. and caused me to
get up to close the glass door opening on
to the veranda.
For brief moment / stood looking out
at The shaft of light that fell from the
windows and shone some little distance
down the pathway. and out for a few feet
into the lake.
AS 1 looked. I saw a canoe glide into the
pathway of light, and Immediately cross
ing It, pass out of sight again into the
darkness. II was perhaps hundred feet
from the shore. and 1t moved swiftly.
l was surprised that canoe should pass
the island at that time of night, for all
the summer visitors from the other side
of the lake had gone home weeks before,
and the island was a long way out of any
line of water traffic.
My reading from this moment did not
make very good progress, for somehow
the picture of that canoe, gliding so dimly
and swiftly across the narrow track of
light on the black waters. silhouetted it
self against the background of my mind
with singular vividness. 1t kept coming
between my eyes and the printed page.
The more / thought about it the more sur
prised l became. 1t was of larger build
than any 1 had seen during the past sum-
mer months. and was more like the old
Indian war canoes with the high curving
bows and stern and wide beam. The more
tried to read, the less success attended my
efforts; and finally / closed my books and
went out on the Yeranda to walk up and
down a bit, and shake the chiliness out of
my bones.
The night was perfectly still, and as
dark as imaginable. j stumbled down the
path to the little landing wharf, where the
water made the very faintest Of gurgling
under the timbers. The sound of big tree
falling in the mainland forest. far across
the lake, stirred echoes in the heavy air,
like the first guns of distant night at
tack. No other sound disturbed the still
ness that reigned supreme.
AS / stood upon the wharf in the broad
splash of light that followed me from the
sitting-room windows, / saw another ca
noe cross the pathway ~ uncertain light
upon the water. and disappear at once
into the fmpenetrable gloom that lay be-
yond. This time j saw more distinctly
than before. 1t was like the former