The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1902-04-11
TOHN ANDREWS
% COWARD
%. By Marvin Dan;
Copyright, 1902, by
c 6 NInOI

Roundabout him in G struggling par
allelogram stood the ungainly wooden
| houses of q Missouri county seat.
Beyond lay the level brown of prairies,
shot with the ocher of ripening grain,
gray blue where it merged into hori-
IONS sky of appalling bronze. His
sight was blurred by dancing currents
of hot air. In the shade of the hotel
porch the thermometer registered 40
degrees, and there yet remained two
sweltering hours before sunset.
Thank heaven, I've inspected the
Inst acre and can start for New York
in the morning" was his thought. In
stinctively his hand touched his pocket
and her letter. He smiled, then frown-
ed.
Am cowardT'
A paragraph in her letter had started
the self inquisition.
Il shall be so glad when you are safe
home again." it ran. "even though 1
have no real cause for alarm. You are
so big and strong and brave, and
coward"
Was he one? Yes-no! A flush not
born of the sun flooded his face. His
mind travelled back twenty-four hours.
and he cursed his weakness, his timid
fly, which he had never realized until
that awful storm had broken. 1t was
when the terrific lightning, peculiar
to this region. had played about him
that he had suddenly found himself
trembling, gasping with horror. The
memory of those moments still sicken-
ed him and filled him with contemptu-
Gus self hate.
The proprietor of the hotel came out
and balanced on two legs of chair be-
side his guest.
Reckon We'll have another bit of a
shower tonight" he drawled amiably.
The careless words filled his listener
with dumb anguish, half fear, half
shame. Must he again endure that
racking torment-the blue glare of
electricity. the deadly cracking of the
bolts, the horrible realization that
multiple death Knocked him from every
side?
II don't see any clounds," he ventur-
ed
"You can tell weather same as you
can cloth, more by feelin' than by
looks. I've been forty years in these
parts. an calc'late We'll have it ham,
mer an tongs before midnight. Lucky
If regular cyclone don't blow along
with it."
Does lightning do much damage
around here?"
Burns a lot Of barns mostly; but,
takin' it one time an another, we've
had quite q few folks killed, bout
twenty in my time. It's a nice, easy
death. but | don't like cyclones. One
hit me, an that was enough. The
burned thing killed off half the town.
includin' all my best friends an four
mules. which was all | was worth.
Cyclones, blast 'em, always come in
the night when you can't see EN-"
The listener drew his breath sharply.
"But how do you tell cyclone, even
in daytime"
well. Mr.. Andrews, you can always
tell it because the sky looks like nothin'
you've ever seen bcfore-yellow, green
an ornery. An if it's comm your way
you'll see what the papers call fun
mel shaped cloud. but what looks more
like big balloon, dancin' along. When
the gale raises an that balloon seems
to stop bouncin', but stands still, get
tin bigger an bigger, you dust for a
cellar. It's close"
do all the places here have cyclone
cavesT
Everybody in town amt got one.
but there's enough to go round. Want
to see mine?'
Any diversion from his mental an
guish and self pity was welcome to
Andrews, and he followed his host to
the middle of the back yard, where he
saw a mound of earth. In the end
nearest them was a swinging shutter,
which the landlord raised. Within was
space fer perhaps six persons comfort
ably placed by crowding compactly.
Twice or even thrice that number
might seek refuge for limited time.
The odor of damp earth suggested the
grave. and again Andrews shuddered.
BY the time he sought his room at 10
o'clock that night Andrews had argued
himself into believing that this new
terror of storm and wind was con-
stitutional popularity for which he
was not morally culpable, and exhaust
ed by heat and mental strain he quick
ly dropped asleep.
He awoke with the trump of doom
bursting his eardrums. The crash of
falling thunderbolt brought him to
his feet, and he stood dazed amid the
lurid radiance of the lightning. In an
ecstasy of fear he sprang to the win
dow and closed it. Then he drew the
shade and struck q match. Two flick
cred and died in his trembling hand
before he could light the lamp. In a
very spasm of horror he sat huddled
on his bed. He thought of no one and
nothing save himself and-death.
But there remained another note yet
to he sounded in the gamut of his ter
ror. Suddenly the hotel commenced to
shake and reel under the assaults of
the wind With cringing dismay he
recalled the landlords warning against
cyclones in the night. At any moment
one might burst upon him. resistless,
romOrSelGSS, Overwhelming. w lllllI
bin rose the instinct of flight. To the
cave, to safety.
Mechanically in the midst of his
alarms he dressed himself, and as he
stepped into the dark hall he recoiled
before sudden glare of lightning.
But he was now too desperate In his
rear to De checked. NO one else wGs
astr. and lie tore open side door,
leaped to the entrance of the cave,
crept through the narrow opening and
sank down, his face buried in his fold
ed arms.
He was safe at last. and great JOY
of salvation welled in his heart. For
time he slept, waking with mind
cleared and body refreshed. He lis
tened intently, but no sound reached
him. He cruwled from his refuge, but
| the thought of returning to the room
where he had suffered such mental tor
lures was hateful to him. He crossed
the yard, climbed the fence and started
toward the outskirts of the town. The
air was Of hue strange to him, sullen-