Omaha daily bee., 1909-12-13

S0 blacklist headline:
"Myl Somebody's killed Brownv'
us that so7"
~"Yep-stone dead on his doorstep,
"T-t-t-t! Too bad. The police ought to
do something. ones life isn't safe a
minute any more" But just then Mary
comes in from the kitchen to tell you THAT
the ash man didn't stop and the ash can
is running over, and you forget Brown,
stone dead. on his doorstep.
But 1t isn't like tina in Our Town
Somebody killed DOC" AS. last night and
It wasn't at all like that.
It was cold-twenty-four below somebody
said-so cold that you had to warm your
horses bit so Il wouldn't taxi the skin
off his tongue-this in the afternoon, too
and at night it was worse. You could tell
by the way peoples shoes squeaked on the
snow when they cam home from the
Presbyterian concert. You wondered II the
hydrant was going to freeze and all the
pipes burst, and II 1t wouldn't be cheaper
to pay a plumber a salary than to hire
him by the 'job.' since he was there
every day thawlng pipes anyhow. But, be-
fore you decide, you are asleep, and, pretty
soon. in your sleep you hear a shot
muffled-ominous-somei ow you feel-you
know-the conviction creeps through your
drowsy brain that 1t hit something.
1t wasn't at all like the clear ringing
shots Of exuberant "drunks' riding out ut
town. 1t was dull, deadened, like shooting
into a bale of hay. Is It Imagination, YOU
wonder. Maybe. It isn't a gun fight, you
tell yourself, or there would be more shots
and voices.
You llsten-wide awake now. It is still
oh how still the town is. Then you hear
a sound like the strangling groan of g
dying animal. Then a shrek. God! vhat
a shrek! 1t must have reached the sky
Another, and another, like a man screa n
ing with his mouth wide open-his brair
incapable of forming words. win They
never stopi The long, tremulous agony
Of them n~auseates you a little and vol
find yourself shutting your hands tight.
You pull the shade from the roller trying
to raise 1t. Outside the shadows lie darl
along the fence across the street. TIL,
sky looks cold, as though 1t were studd i
with glitterlng points Of ice. There Is nj
sign OF life. Nothing. 1t is as though al
the world were dead save the single human
being shrieking under the stars,
He is moving, you know. for the erie
grow farther away. They are fainter now
dying; but before they are gone you catcl
the words, Help, ~neighbors!" The weak
appealing wall, the pathos OF 1t, you viii
remember always.
1t is still again, and you wait for tn
sound of hurrying feet, Of excited voic IS
But the stiffness continues, all is as be
fore, and after awhile you tell yoursel
that it was probably a fool drunk lettin
his fool CUR go off in his fool pocket, an
taking himself to the hospital, having she
himself in the heel or blown off his fingert
There are no sounds, so you decide tina
this must be so, and goato sleep.
In the NOR hing a sharp rap upon you
back door startles you. 1t is a neighbo
woman, pale, her grey eyes wide Wit
horror. ~
Doc Ash was murdered last night,
she says, and her voice breaks. '4 - y
Doc Ash was murdered last night,
you repeat stupidity. 49,, W.
"At midnight" atna e.
A midnight" you echo, and the horrc
In her eyes is reflected in your own. ''''
1t was Doc" Ash, then, shrleking unde