The daily Gate City. [volume] (Keokuk, Iowa) 1855-1916, 1911-08-14

As he neared 1t the light for An instant
fickered, then darkness where it lay, whilst
the pale blue light returned and ahone
with gentler glow upon the ground he had
passed over. Hartley stood still and
watched. The night, dark as it was, yet
touched with the clearness of cloudless
sky everything above the floor line with
some distinctness, and he could see the
efforts of the investigator as he passed
from place to place, at one time seemingly
within reach Of the glimmering disks, the
next moment encircled only in the shadow
of the fair green.
Come back" he called softly. Can
not you see he said, as Thorne reached
his side, that they are Willie -the-wisps
that you cannot touch2 See, there they
are nowl"
AS he spoke the blue ball rose from the
ground and dropped short, the green one
following almost at once to place within
watchers knew the hole to be.
Having learned his lesson on the first
stretch Of the course, Thorne was content
to follow, without attempting to investi-
gate too closely, tho game of the phantom
balls to the sixth green. There was no halt
in the game; each disk rose from the tee
and fell with noticeable equality-the
greenish-hued being as rule in advance
on the drive, but the strokes-which the
watchers were able to count-to putting
distance being rarely Of remarkable differ
ence until the sixth hole.
This was stretch Of meadowland, a
short drive to sunken green. The expe-
riences OF the morning were not forgotten.
1t was beyond here the innkeeper had said
the Gray People" had never been seen.
1t was here that Hartley and Thorne had
heard NOTES.-THE one said of animal life,
the other convinced Of some supernatural
agency.
It was therefore with something ike
CONSERVATION they watched the drive and
saw the green disk, to their imagination
more baleful in It's weird CLEAN as it lay
upon the tee than before, rise in the air and
take an erratic direction. It fell far to the
right of its true course into spinney.
Boththe watchers being golfers, recognized
at once an impossible approach to the put
ting green.
This" whispered Thorne, "sees the
end Of the game"
Slowly they made their way to the knoll
overlooking tho pit. The blue ball, played
. second time, lay In the center Of tho
green. For some moments 1t glimmered
in the shadows, q solitary light, glowing
gently, on field Of velvet-then beside it
there lay another ball like clot of
blood-an effulgent mass of deep red which
seemed to drip light on to the carpet of
the pit!
An unreasoning terror shook the two
men. Clutching each other they stood
and looked As they looked, it seemed to
them that the pit became filed with figures
that swayed and fought about the pale
blue light, always with the blood-red light
upon them. There rose on the air cry
cry repeated and breaking into the
silence until every breath around them bore
some wall OF agonized spirit form. And
then-they ran-ran full Of the panic OF
fear, clutching at their breaths, sobbing
with an awful horror of the things they left
behind. Once Thorne stumbled and fell;
1t was at the edge of the grave yard" and
Hartley helped him to his feet and over the
fair green's to the caddy house. In there
were light and people. Thorne dashed in
and fell painting to the floor.
Therewasn no mark of hurt upon him, but
he asked to be driven to the doctors.
It was three years after the death OF
Thorne when Hartley returned to America.
He had gone away Immediately following
the inquest at which he had repeated the
legend as told him by Thorne, and had
given In detail all the circumstances lead
ing to the fatal end of his friend That he
had been looked upon with some suspicion
he knew, but the verdict cleared him and
he left the place, bearing burden OF
thought he sought to tighten by travelling
abroad.
In the library Of mutual friend shortly
after his return, he FIRST saw Legendary
Pathways" by Professor Albion Thorne,
published by his literary executor about q
year after his death. Turning to the index,
he saw that the last chapter, written by
the executor, told of Thorne's death and
the manner of it, and of the Gray Peo-
pie" and of the phantom balls, but-and
he thanked God for it-there was no men
ton of his own name, only that "a friend
was with him." He turned other pages
idly until he found under a chapter headed
"The Contagion of Thought" this pas
sage:
There have been believers in legends
throughout the ages and always will be.
1t is belief which, inoculating childhood,
saturates the blood and if not early elm
mated, formulates in manhood an almost
overpowering faith in mysticism and makes
many followers of occultism and its atten-