The Washington herald., 1913-10-12

steps led thither. Without thought
without purpose-only he must be
alone with his crisis of defeat; he
must keep reason. he must grope for
the tatters life had left him.
All the afternoon he had wandered,
keeping from the roads, and meeting
no one. He had beheld the silent
Midland country the cloud patches
chasing one another over the close
cropped meadows from ridge to ridge,
the valleys bleak in the November
hush. Afar he heard the farmers
swapping the corn from the frozen
husks, throwing it with a rough ca
dence against the bump boards of the
wagons; and now and then he saw
the yellow piles among the shocked
fodder and the pumpkin vines. Again
he saw a thrashing crew, the red ma
chine roaring, the flow OF chaff, the
CLINT OF the fork tines as the pitchers
threw the bundles to the band-cutterS;
the farm boys wallowing in the bright
straw, the girls coming out to bid the
hands to dinner which the neighbor
women had gathered to prepare. All
this fine hearty life seemed strangely
unreal, but curiously his mind alb
sorbed itself in it. He pictured the
long table in the farmhouse, the host
welcoming the thrashers. the discus
sion OF the yield and price with the
weighers and sack sewers, as the own
er let the brown wheat run through
his fingers All this he had been Civ
ing. up with his new larger life; this
prosy. country friendlinesS which only
this year he had discovered and loved,
and which had made place for him, given
him honor. And now, at the moment
of his miracle, the precious knowledge
of their trust, and that he was equal
to this mans work, he had fallen;
again, the wanderer, the man without
understanding, the poet without song.
He turned from it all with tear
filled eyes. climbing higher in the
bluffs. The leaves were new-fallen,
showing the far-winding river, the
bronze shields of the corn coming up
the black muddy roads leading to the
town, first past the modest homes of
the workers and hired folk, and then
to the heavy-faced houses of the rich.
After all, a pleasant friendly town,
coming at last to know him; a whole
some town, blown always with odor-
Gus airs. and filed with the voices of
young people, boys climbing the cattle
trails, sweetheartS wandering along
the pebbly water courses of Sunday
or old men and women
coming slowly along the walks under
the arching naples, speaking kindly,
knowing every one and the children
Of every one.
From the last high ridge, where the
Iplands began, he could see the great
yistas. The smoke over the mines and
factories in Earlville, the Mississippi,
a band of dull silver strung among
the hills of Illinois; and now, on his
home shore, far to the north, single
farm wagon toiling up the red cash
of a road to the yellow bluff, then
rattling on, a crawling speCk at last,
the wrapped figure in the seat alone
and desolate under the sky, the low
pressing globe of gray. He thought
it might be his friend, Hemminger,
going back to his home people. He
would tell them the news. He won
dered how they would receive it; if
they would not be saddened? They
would open their weekly paper, the
damp and soggy little sheet, as it
came from his old press, and read his
The talk would go
nameless blight that had
struck their champion, and only the
infinite silence would answer. He
hought OF the farmers driving home
ward from the rally that would not
AXE place, rough-garbed, silent, in a
,ort OF awe OF Thad Tanner, the little
yray boss who was on top again. They
would guess at this much. But Cur
an who, somehow. had appealed to
heir own secret sentiment; who had
ONE clearing an obscure message, the
lighting good, the newer ideal of dem
past the money lust
# the republc-he, who had dreamed
hat out of their gray and honest lives
e might weave the colors of his own
infinite possibilitieS-what would they
hink of him?
Tomorrow was the election. and by
light the great fight might be won.
hey would all win, Delroy, the mill
ant Governor, the junior Senator: all
he men of the North in the brilliant
ampaign. But he who had been of
hem, of whom the home folk had
cen proud as he voiced their con-
cience against outworn theories of
'ealth and privilege, he had fallen: He
hought of how they would discuss
i'm tomorrow about the polls, his use
.Ss name on the ballots-a man apart,
randed with a nameless stain, the
ternal whisper following him. Yes,
e had found bottom after the resurge
{ his life. He had. risen to fall.
owe had made the way and then de-
lated him.
From the high point he saw yellow
ar and knew it was the quarry, with
syond the shanties of the Pocket
luatters. Up this trail she had
1mped and grown, his child, his lit
e girl. laughing the way of her vul.
ar upbringing, all unknown and un-
lred for. And he-he might have
ore so much-he who all his thrift
IS life had needed the touch of a
and in hisl
He tried to recall the first time he
ad seen her-a dark-haired child in
red dress going past his shop with
e bare-legged Lindstrom boys. Then
schoolgirl, slim, with sharp-eyed lit ..
e Gallo tricks and poses, and then
e maid he had come to know. Moody
times, and lonely; passionate still
ith eagerness to live and be. And
ence on to mis- miracle-laughing her
ay into his dreams, the bizarre ro-