The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1904-07-28

Iaos1 in.ernai piece c. music / na~o
ever heard, and. furthermore you arr.
all wrong"
To this day | fail to see what saved
his life. 1t seemed as though a child
of mine had been murdered before my
eyes. Williams and Macpherson both
covered him instantly.
You mean you're a liar" said WI
liams hotly
Go on; say you're a liar" echoed
Macpherson. neryously lingering the
trigger.
IF you care to listen to me-" answer
ed MetcaIf with an Indifferent wave
of his hand and Il shrug that spoke
volumes for his character. IN prove it
the truth"
Lets give him Il chance. | broke
in, impelled as much by the anxiety to
discover what he meant As the desire
to avoid blood.
Without another word Metcalf went
to his saddlebag and drew forth a SORT of
flute. which he screwed together
This is where it tripped you by the
heels" he said nodding to Macpherson.
He then gave an imitation OF Macpher-
sons ridiculous squeaks This is how
1t goes" And he played like an angel.
That's the chorus. Now the woman
comes on. She's a cOntralto." And again
the superb sounds that were match for
the morning filled our ears a hint Of
the futility of life came as he reached the
cadence. My throat was full. l was
tempted to speak. to cry aloud when a
tenor note rang out clear and strong
transporting us to truer, better world.
He played this part twice over and finish
ed with a dying fall that was as sweet as
sleep after nights of pain
Perhaps it was minute. perhaps it was
an hour. before any one spoke. Time and
space were eliminated from our conscious
ness Juan, the Mexican. CLINT Of rever-
ence in his eye. had edged close to the
player. Macpherson sighed and turned
away Even Williams the bullet head of
the outfit. was yisibly affected.
Gentlemen" said Metcalf. calmly UNI
screwing the inspired instrument and
stutfing ii into his saddlebag. that proves
one-half of my contention the other half
can be as easily proved"
Macpherson plucked rervously at his
tuft Of a beard and in his blunt, honest
fashion said, 81 thought that was my
own tune"
Il thought it was mine" remarked Will
liams, and there was in the sliding inflec-
ton Of the last word the suggestion of a
man always sure of himself discovering a
hole In his armor.
II had dreams of developing into a great
composer on the strength Of it, l CON
fessed. and, try as l might, l could not
repress a sigh. Juan echoed the sigh and
turned quietly away.
Metcalf seemed to be ObliviOus of his
triumph. The indifference that was in his
eyes when he looked down the muzzles of
the revolvers still fingered. you are all
wrong" he finally began. "a man OF
whom you know nothing wrote 1t. There
was time when the music stood well in
the worlds opinion. About the beginning
of its vogue l came in contact with it. to
my grievous injury.
"Of course there was a woman" he
went on after a slight pause. There al
ways is. But she was such woman as
only poets know in their dreams. And
by every right that springs from years OF
unfagging devotion and unselfish love
she was mine
Then he came. the composer. with all
his old world charm and his old world
knowledge of the human heart In some
thing less than a month from the day l
introduced him to her l learned that all
my unhagging devotion and unsefish love
could not tip the beam against the least
Of his smiles. This knowledge came dur
Ing the performance of the music you
claim individually and collectively as your
own. AS they sang 1 watched them But
why go on? The music was composed for
her The mans soul was in it.
That was ten years ago. Occasionally
the desire takes possession Of me to learn
II she still lives. if she Is happy-with
him. and l move in the track of men.
Yesterday she seemed to draw me down
that way" And he waved his hand TO-
ward the crowded east. We were hardly
conscious that he had finished His voice
had fallen to a whisper.
Over US the sky hung fiery red. The
desert wore a strange. pathetic look. The