Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1904-03-03

| IKfHAT's ailin' you, lad? You look a
I wv II something was suckin' the bloo'
out of your veins"
Dutton put his hand to his head nerv
ously. me? Oh, I'm all right, and h
laughed rather foolishly and then looked
suddenly, fearfully, out of the window
He sat at the window most of the time
had noticed 1t on my last visit-let's
see, that had been nearly three weeks
| before.
looked him over sharply, noticing
the wild, bloodshot eyes, with the dark
smudges underneath, the yellow tint of
the skin and the raised hand that
trembled and shook as he wiped the
perspiration from his damp forehead.
"Dutton, lad" said, as gently as I
could, for he was little more than boy.
and his youth was of the appealing sort,
"T'm going to send you away from here
You're going back with me tonight and
I'll send new man out the first thing
in the morning. You can go up In the
hills and find the lady.
He stared at me with look Of horror
on his face. His lips moved several times
before he spoke thickly:
''I'll never leave this hole alive. Don't
tell me-" and he looked over his shout
der out Of the window with peculiar
expression Of expectancy.
There, there, old boy, never mind.
Well see that you get away all right"
I put out my hand to touch his shoulder
reassurlngly, and the poor devil grabbed
It and chung to 1t, sobbing tearlessly in
q way that touched my heart.
went out to mix him up bracing
drink, and when came back he was fin
gering his old jewsharp. Veal laughed
at Dutton when he drew that out and
commenced droning tunes from It the
Iirst night OF his stay among us in this
cursed country. He could really make
he old thing hum. 1t was worth listen
Ing to, II you cared enough for music not
% be too particular.
He paid no attention at all to my pres
nee but sat there, muttering and num-
ling to himself. | caught q few words
here and there, broken and fearful In
heir expression. "Will she come? |
What II oh, God! Shut
he door she can't II
What II /. see the shine II
low cold My God! i
end It,"
He laughed shrilly, horribly, and his
cad dropped between his shoulders and
egaf swaying from side to side.
TODD still, staring at him in amazement
! shiver Of foreboding ran through ma
/ the grewsome sight. He was beyond
ny words Of mine. cursed myself for
~ carelessness in leaving him alone
,r so long a time without company Of
ny sort. There is something in the at
and heavy-and the
ounds one hears when alone:-God!
es! the sounds one hears! that rasp on
mes nerves like the shrek of dull file
even on mine, strong man that am
hunted around till / found the old
lolin that he kept there for my use, and
ent out on the veranda, hoping to
,othe him with the melodies he loved
, we'll.
The sun dropped behind the hills and
arkness was closing down like heavy
list, The hoarse dirge Of the frogs rose
sudden tumuIt. II is one thing to
In the cool quiet Of the evening In
DDS country and hear the soothing
Iorus of the frogs: quite another to
ten to the same sound here. It's not !
e same sound, anyway. II seems TO call
W and makes you think Of the things /
,wn there In the dark and damp. Ughi l
I drew the bow over the strings, lin I
ringly. trying the tone, and as | did '
I heard again buttons awful laugh 4
rough the low window.
began playing. softly, slowly, Annie
lurie. that old, old love OF the English
eaking world, and my eyes closed in :
= enjoyment Of the oid-fsshioned mel q
y Out here the songs Of home seem '
ie hRllowed memories, and one fingers .
er them strangely.
| had played Il through twice, perhaps.
Zen I heard apeculiar rustllng as OF y
heavy body sliding over The ground.
J hand slipped BIT and ! struck q
ss note A sort OF whistling sigh an 4
cred the slip and opened my eyes to d
, therein mont Of the veranda step o
not two yards away a huge, Fat head /
ayiag rythmically. as It, long. 1.-THE A
" rose and fell TO the music ~ /