Los Angeles herald., 1905-10-22

'I.h tfEr
The candle had burned low--now it
got lower and lower until, with a great
splutter, it went out, leaving the room
in darkness. save for the faint star
| light from the unlatched window.
Lloyd sat swinging the machete be-
tween his knees. He could lust make
out the form of his friend, whose curly
dark hair seemed a cap of blackness
above the face showing so white and
indistinct. His head ached in dull
heavy way. Ghosts! They were moth
ing to dreams. He supposed they were
near relations. both left such burning
impressions behind them, and there
was always a vagueness that helped
to make them haunting. Haunting?
Aye, his dream! If he had only seen
the face of the man in the dream. Sup
pose he had what then? Who could
could convict rat on the evidence of
a dream? Better keep in the daylight
and let ghosts and dreams alone. And
! he was weary, so weary. Two hours
sleep is scarce enough for man. II
there was but place to throw him
self down. But, no. 1t was his turn
to keep awake and he must try to
rouse himself.
The hanging vine rustled at the Win
dow. He started to his feet, and Went
cautiously toward it. "a vine, not a
snake" he whispered, and, kneeling on
the low seat by the open window.
gazed, as Brereton had done before
him. far into the distance.
The perfect beauty of the tropical
night soothed and quieted his aching
brain and heart and lulled him almost
to slumber. The machete slipped from
his hands and in STOPPING to recover
it his eye fell on an iron ring on the
floor "Then there is a trap door" ana
he drew back instctiVely.
| thafl (1anISt C11nkl
Clank! He sat listening. Again he
heard it. this time more distinctly 1t
| was coming nearer, nearer. The sound
was now just under his feet.
! He rose in horror. The trap door was
slowly raised and a gigantic negro
him to follow. Lloyd tried to call out
to Jack Brereton on the sofa. but an
irresistible force drew him to the negro,
who descended through the trap door.
| He followed down over stone steps and
then on and on, it seemed for an
eternity.
At last they turned into narrow
passage, the walls of which were damp
and Shiny, and came to = door, on
which the negro knocked. 1t opened
and they entered.
In the center of the room was long
table under a faring hanging lamp,
and round the table We're seated
score of men, all negroes, and In
heavy chains. They wore the garb OF
the old time slave, and on the shoulders
of some were the deep welts and scars
which betokened the unruly slave, or
possibly the unjustly punished one.
They were singing, carousing ana
drinking. Lyold tried to call out, but a
deadly coldness began to come over
him. and he stood powerless. They
took no notice of him, however. Their
l.I.n In nya
whose body bore more scars than the
rest suddenly arose and cried; Blood!
Give us blood! Let those suffer whose
parents drew it from us and our
fathers!"
A frightful thought came to him
the blood they called for was hiE' He
must shake off this numbness, must
save himself. He clutched the ma"
chete which he still carried. and.
rushing among the negroes, Slashed
right and left until they all lay
stretched at his feet.
The giant negro who had led him
down was the last to fall, and as the
he gasped out the one word, MAR
jorie"
A horrible shudder went through
Lloyd's frame, and he in turn called
out the name of his wife. Nov! now!"
he cried, II am free! l have killed
them all! Jack! Jack!"
What was it? Where was that dim
violet light coming from? The flaring
lamp was out. All the bodies had dis.
appeared but that of the great black
man. Look! 1t was shrinking and it's
face was whitening. 1t was some
trick of the new light, that was grow
ing stronger and stronger every mo-
ment.
"Oh, my God! 1t is Jack! 1 have
killed him. hacked him to pieces in my
dream! Jack! Jack!
He knelt beside the body. 1t was
warm. Blood everywhere. Was his
heart beating? Was there any hope?
He ran his hand inside the loose coat
and felt around the heart. Ass he
withdrew his hand letter fell to the
floor
When they found the living and the
dead and the letter in the morning the
maniac had only laughter for them.
They pieced out a rather common
story for themselves and hid one Of
the actors in a grave, the other in an
asylum, and burned the letter, as re-
flecting on regimental ethics. But they
did not place events in the sequence
through which justice had been
wrought in the night.