The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1903-09-20

fered the other his hand. "Good-by."
Cant l go for you? You don't look
able
NO no. It's something I'll have to
attend to myself"
"Ah, I suppose" said Crailey, gently
II suppose it's important, and you
couldn't trust me to handle it. Well
God knows you're right! I've shown
you often enough how incompetent
am to do anything but write jingles!'
You do some more of them-with-
out the whisky. Crailey. They're worth
more than all the having Gray and
Vanrevel have ever done or ever will
do Good-by-and be kind to your
SELF
He descended to the first landing. and
then. 'Oh, Crailey," he called, with the
air of having forgotten something he
had meant to say.
Yes, Tom ?"
This morning at the postofice !
found a letter addressed to me. 1 open
ed it and he hesitated, and uneasi-
" shifted his weight from one foot
to the other, with a feeble, deprecatory
Taught.
Yes. what of it?'
"Well-there seemed to be a mistake.
I think it must have been meant for
YOU. Somehow, she-she picked UP a
good many wrong impressions. and.
Lord knows how, but she's mixed our
names up and-and I've left the letter
for you. It's on my table"
He turned and calling a final good
bye over his shoulder, went Gathering
noisily down to the street and vanished
from Crailey's sight.
Noon found Tom far out on the Ma
tional road. creaking along over the
yellow dust in a light wagon, between
bordering forests that smelt spicily of
wet underbrush and May-apples: and.
here and there. when they would
emerge from the woods to cleared
fields. literally outlined by long snake
fences of black walnut, the steady. jog
trotting old horse lifted his head and
looked interested in the world, but Tom
never did either Habitually upright,
walking or sitting, straight, keen, and
alert, that days sun saw him drearily
hunched over, mile after mile, his fore
head laced with lines of pain. He
stopped at every farm house and cab
in, and where the young men worked
in the fields, hailed them from the road,
or hitched his horse to the fence and
crossed the soft burrows to talk with
them. At such times he stood erect
again, and spoke stirringly, finding
eager, listeners. There was one ques-
ton they asked him over and over:
But are you sure the call will
Gomez"
LAS sure as that we stand here; and
it will come before the week is out.
We must be ready
Often, when he left them, they would
turn from the work in hand, leaving it
as it was, to lie unfinished in the fields,
and make their way slowly. and
thoughtfully to their homes, while Tom
climbed into his creaking little wagon
once more only to fall into the same
dull. hunched-over attitude. He had
many things to think out before he
faced Rouen and Crailey Gray again,
and more to fight through to the end
with himself. Three days he took for
it, three days driving through the soft
May weather behind the kind, old jog
trotting horse: three days on the road,
from farmhouse to farmhouse and
from field to field, from cabin of the
woods to cabin in the clearing. Toss
ing unhappily at night, he lay sleepless
till dawn though not because of the
hard beds; and when daylight came,
journeyed steadily on again. over the
vaga bond little hills that had gypsied
it so far into the prairie land in their
wanderings from their range on the
Ohio, and passing the hills, went on
through the fiat forest land. always
hunched over dismally in the creaking
wagon.
CTo be continued)