The Washington herald., 1913-09-21

him so in a dream. The stranger set
tied himself in the chair with the air
Of one who had come on lucky turn
of fortune. And l come up wifi dat
Rube and find yo first thing. Rube
say you run fo' Congress?"
"Yes. / have the nomination"
Who'd fought dat? Old Wiley who
used to play dat guitar TO dem island
girls to- dance at La CheniereP
The candidate ran his hands through
his hair and looked off at the Meth
odist Church spire. Its different up
here, Maurice. I'm mighty glad to
see you-but I-I-wish you hadn't
GOMEZ He seemed to have forgotten
Harlan's presence. Suddenly he up
rose and came swiftly to the other.
See here, Mauricel Why can't you
get out of town. You see you'll get
to talking, if you hang around; and
my friends-it will bother themi Per-
sonally, | don't care. but they-the
people, these Western country peo-
pie"
He stopped. In Ladeau's small eyes
was a curious confidence of evil.
"Eheul Desc Yankees Dey boil d
coffee, Wiley! Savages! But dey don't
know you, eh? Dat it,"
Curran was staring out the window.
Ladeau came nearer. Il reckon you
got dollar fo' an old friend, Wiley?
Wiley's hand went down. Here"
"Mebbe FIVE dollars? Look at dem
shoes-name of Godl Dat Rube-we
walk from ST. JoeP
"I-haven't that much here, Maui
rice. But-well, I'll get it. But for
Gods sake. 60: let me think a bit !"
Then, as Ladeau shambled on a step
he hurried to him. wait. You know
OF Adrienne? She declare you sure
she died?"
Madame Artois tell me when / go
back to NJ Awlyns To- years after.
She say she write you. She say yo'
send back wan beautiful letter when
Adrienne died-just what a poet would
say, Wiley. Wan beautiful letter-but
no money to bury Adrienne!'
know. | was broke out in Ari-
IONA, Maurice. Madame Artois knows
that. just could thank her for TAX
ing care of Adrienne, that was all.
"Oh, madame Inowl She cry when
she read dat letter. All women yo'
can make cry. somehow, madame she
say. Eheu, dat beautiful letteri"
Curran was watching past him to
the western sky. Tomorrow" he
muttered. come back. Maurice. and
III do what | can-that money. But |
haven't much I'm in debt terribly"
He watched Ladeau shamble down
the street feeling of the dollar, turn
ing presently into the billiard hall
among the idlers. He did not see Har-
Ian in the shadows. After a while he
raised his hand toward the shiftless
figure 'That-might have been mel
Meme! But, God help me-I'm
Savedr
From the numbing vision of his own
past he turned slowly and saw the
younger man. He came to him swift
ly. DO you hear, Harlan? Just that
"a shambler, a wreckT He sat down
and covered his face with his hands.
Presently he writhed with some agony.
claimed; what he filings away! What
ghosts come back, Harlan After
twenty yearsl'
What is it, Wiiey-that hurts so?"
Il don't know. Fear-that must be
it. Nervous fear. OF late it's been so
fine to live, Harlan. To go down the
street and feel that you've done some
thing! That you have ambition, pur-
pose; and that they've counted with
men That's it-that you've wonl
New hope, new courage; I've felt like
shouting il to al the worldT
Il know, Wiley"
No. you don't, boy. You've got to
be down and out first: you've got 10
be adrift and lose hope, and know
yourself the failure first, before you
can ever realize how fine it is to sue
ceed, how sweet it is to live. Oh. boy,
when | was your age l drifted over
all the old West-it was a big adven-
ture. | wanted to write what | felt
its sweep and power and bigness! Ne
vada, New Mexico. California, Alaska
wherever life beat fast and free,
wandered. But | couldn't write it
1t was too big and splendid
for me-the epic But | lived it, Har-
Ian! And then l came back here
when father died and left me the old
ship. No one knew: ! had failed,
that's all. | settled down here and
worked, but the old fine ardor was
gone. Eight years of this village
common. proSy dull-not one to speak !
with of the big things but you and
Janetl And then | awakened-whyI
here .gas the poem l had dreamed and !
was my work, my place, my
people" He lifted his arm and !
swept it out to the hills beyond the |
leafy Square. Yes, ! got back my
old spirit, my fighting soul, but |
didn't put it into poem, Harlan-but |
into politics, this battle-and wonT
Harlan had stirred before his &C.
stacy. Was this the man OF yester-
day?-this winging spirit, whom the
SNUG town had never understood
who had come back to an ennobling |
youth?
Wiley came to put his hand upon
the younger mans shoulder: Il won,
and there's something for me, Har-
an. There's work, there's life-there's
loveF He Strengthened and struck
MS fists together. "And I'm not afraid, |
ooyl tell you I've not been myself |
all this year-Pve been rebornI' Hel
sat at his desk and stared out at the |
summer night "The glory of it! The
beauty of itr' Again he turned and
reached his hand across the table to
lis friend. "Oh. the great hours we've
'pent here, boyl You can't tell what
it all meant. You are so different
from me, but here your manhood was
formed. Harlan-and you watched my
light, too! Just battering away here
At the old press-and then the light
iawned She came Harianr