The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1913-01-30

into water and withdraw 1t, what hap
pens? Nothing. Well, the man who
gives me a benefit is sticking his
nnger into water. I'm Just as un.
stable. How many promises have
made and broken! l mean, promises
to myself. / don't know. This mo.
ment l swear to be good, and along
comes a pack Of cards or a bottle of
wine. and back I slip. Would 1t be
worth while to trust a man so damned
weak as that? Look at me. am six
foot two, normally a hundred and
eighty pounds, no fat. l am as sound
as a cocoanut. There isn't boxer il
the States I'm afraid of. l can ride,
shoot, fence, fight; there isn't a game
can't take creditable hand in. So
much for that. There's the other side.
Morally, I'm putty. When it's soft you
can mold it any which way; when it's
hard, it crumbles. VIII you trust
man like that?"
Yes. Out there you'll be away
from temptation"
Perhaps. Well, l accept. And IL
one day I'm missing, think kindly Of
the poor devil Of an outcast who want
ed to be good and couldn't be. I'm
tagged. I'm going to turn in. Good.
night"
He picked up his blanket and saddle
bags and made his bed a dozen yards
away.
George set his gaze at the fire, now
falling in places and showing incan-
descent holes. A month ago, in the
rut of commonplace, moving round in
oiled grooves of mediocrity. Bang!
like a rocket. Why, never had those
liars in the smokerooms recounted
anything half so wild and strange as
this adventure. Smugglers. card
sharps, an ancient rug, caravan in
the desert! He turned his head and
looked long and earnestly at the little
tent. Love, too; love that had put
into his diftident heart the thrill and
courage Of Bayard. Love! He saw
her again as she stepped down from
the carriage; in the dining-room at his
side, leaning over the parapet; inef-
fably sweet. hauntingly sad Would
she accept the refuge he had offered?
He knew that old Mortimer would
take her without question. Would she
accept the shelter Of that kindly roof?
She must! II she refused and went
her own way into the world, he would
lose her for ever. She must accept!
He would plead with all the elouuence
of his soul, for his own happiness, and
mayhap hers. He rose, faced the
tent, and, with a gesture not unlike
that Of the pagan in prayer, registered
vow that never should she want for
protection, never should she want for
the comforts Of life. How he was
going to keep such a vow was ques-
ton that did not enter his head. Some.
how he was going to accomplish the
feat.
What mattered the ragged beard
upon his face, the ragged clothes upon
his body, the tattered cloths upon his
feet, the grotesQue attitude and en-.
semble? The Lord of Life saw into
his heart and understood. And who
might say with what Joy Pandora
gazed upon her work, knowing as she
did what still remained within her
casket?
From these heights, good occasional.
ly for any mans soul, George came
down abruptly and humanity to the
prosaic question of where would he
make his bed that night? To lie down
at the north side Of the fire meant a
chill in the morning; the south side,
the intermittent, acrid breath Of the
fire itself; SO he threw down his blan-
ket and bags east of the fire, wrapped
himself up, and sank into slumber,
light but dreamless.
What was that? He 5at UP, alert.
straining his ears. How long had he
been asleep? An hour by his watch.
What had awakened him? Not
sound anywhere, yet something had
startled him out of his sleep. He